#the salesman x reader

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 20 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: His punishment is less of a punishment and more something like your greatest fear. Your jealousy gets worse and you're almost sure - What you once had, is lost. It has to be. And you're alone again.

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 and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy issues, loneliness, isolation, jealousy, our girl is dying without him, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Loving him wasn’t hard.

In fact, it got easier with each day. Each day which he drew further away from you, your own longing grew.

It was more than that  - it was a painful ache in your chest, a biblical yearning for something that was far more complicated than your comprehension could manage to pick up on.

He was yours.

And he was slowly slipping through your fingers.

You knew when it had started – it was obvious. The crack in the façade, nothing more than a word you didn’t mean, a phrase you threw at him, before you could stop yourself.

And yet, you didn’t know if that was truly the moment.

His eyes brought the greatest change in the shortest amount of time. The way they stayed dark and distant, no matter the pained glances you shot him – that was when you realized it. Something had changed and it would change further.

Your loneliness came back tenfold. It was worse, far worse, now that you knew what it felt like to be held.

To be loved.

The way he ignored you was unlike the first time he did it. He didn’t directly reject your advances, he didn’t stay silent this time. His voice was there, like a soft cloud enveloping you, but it lost its warmth. Just like his eyes lost their sparkle.

He was angry. You saw the anger, scratching at the surface, waiting for a moment to pierce through the painful distance between you. But so far? It never did.

And oh, how you would have preferred if it did.

The days got longer. And so did his work times. You couldn’t tell if that was because of what had happened between you or if maybe it was simply, truly just his work. But whatever it was, you had that silent fear in the back of your mind, quietly prodding, always expecting the thought to re-surface.

He met someone else.

The voice was as soft, as it was cruel. You couldn’t tell if it was your mother’s or your own. Whoever it was, it was no less painful. The thought of it alone was enough to make you go sick with jealousy. What if it was true? What if his long evenings, his early outings meant exactly that?

What if there was someone?

Someone who was ready to be everything he ever wanted?

Someone who didn’t doubt him.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest and you doubled over on the couch, hiding your face against your knees. A few minutes ago it had been close to two in the morning. He had never before stayed out so long, never. Normally, it seemed to you, he made his way back to you as fast as he could. He was like a man starved, starved for your touch, for your attention. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, you could also tell how he reveled in your kindness. In your gentleness. Sometimes, he’d rest his head on your thigh, eyes closed and his lips parted in a soft sigh, as your fingers gently played with his hair and massaged his scalp. He didn’t allow it often, but when he did, he was vulnerable. It was a quiet understanding between the two of you. He didn’t give up his control entirely, not ever, but you got close. Close to the thin line that lingered between his need to dominate you at all times and his quiet desire to let loose every once in a while.

And now?

Now he was still out. Working.

And you still had no clue what the hell he was actually doing.

All you wanted was a name. A hint. Anything that proved to you that he was yours as much as you were his. You didn’t need a phone, didn’t need a chip to open the door, didn’t need anything besides him. The thought of being with someone else was repulsive to you. It had taken you so long to open up to him and nothing had ever changed it. Not the pain he caused you, not the fact that he played you like a puppet, pulling the strings of your life. In fact, the thought even brought you some comfort. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Someone. Someone on the other side of the world cared about you enough to do all this. The things he did, the things had to endure. And now you were here.

His.

Irrevocable. Inevitable.

You were his.

But a part of you, a quiet part of your mind which feared his rejection more than death itself, was uncertain. Was he yours? Was he still yours?

No, he didn’t outright ignore you. He kept asking about your condition, he still brought you your breakfast. But his glances got rarer. His touches accidental. And his warmth vanished.

He also didn’t outright leave your bed. It was still yours, still his. Sometimes you’d watch him in the middle of the night as he lay deep asleep, curled up on the other side, his arms outstretched, his expression peaceful. But he didn’t reach for you. Every brush of your hand against his, every touch was initiated by you. And at some point, you stopped. You couldn’t.

You felt like a burden. You felt pathetic running after him, practically begging for his attention, for his affection. Sometimes he gave in, other times he rolled over, pretending to be too deep asleep. But you knew the truth. He was angry. Most likely he was hurt. And now you were, too.

It happened out of your control. The way he fell asleep on the sofa more often than not. You found yourself forced to go back to your bedroom on your own, lying awake for what felt like all night, until your exhaustion eventually caught up. You still felt sick. Pasta was disgusting. But the exhaustion was worse.

Many times you’d fall asleep before he even came home, so you couldn’t really tell when that was. Other times, when you got really unlucky, sleep wouldn’t find you, no matter what you did. Just like that night.

You sat trapped on the sofa, unable to grasp the essence of the situation. What had happened? What had gone so incredibly wrong?

Was one damn mistake really enough to shatter everything, to shatter the love he claimed to feel for you?

He only kept you around because of the child. You didn’t want to have such thoughts, but you couldn’t help it. That was exactly what it felt like. There was no love, let alone passion.

He hadn’t touched you ever since. And you had a feeling he wouldn’t. Ever again.

Your need became unbearable.

Of course you weren’t the most sexual person in the world. Your life had been turned and twisted before you met him and the thought of sex had all but disgusted you – the fantasy was fine. But really doing it? Impossible.

Yet, every brush of his fingers, every kiss against your temple, every breath and every shiver he sent down your spine – every time he took you, either like a gentle lover from a soft, romantic tale or like a man starved and stripped of his composure and control – it all fed into your need. Every memory of every encounter you had with him so far kept playing on repeat in your mind, whenever you lay in that bed alone. Often times you caught yourself staring at him. It wasn’t intended, it was out of your own mind. You sat motionless and watched as he rolled up his sleeves, as he changed his shirt. Every time he undid his belt buckle, something broke inside of you.

He caught on it, of course. He wasn’t an idiot. But he didn’t act on it. Not once.

Sometimes, when your loneliness got to the point of being hopeless and painful, when you heard his quiet breaths from the living room -  you tried. You tried to close your eyes and remember the way it felt to be held by him, loved by him. The way his hot breath felt on your skin. His kisses. His ministrations. And even his anger.

All of it caused your body to go rigid, your thoughts to spiral down a dangerous path. Your hand trailed off every time. Casting a slow way down your chest, lingering between your breasts and going further down, until you finally reached the place where the ache was worst. The warmth, the dampness – it was all there. Sometimes you even went further, bringing yourself to the edge of ecstasy. Every time with only him on your mind.

And then you stopped.

Each time. You stopped.

You couldn’t. It felt like betrayal.

Not, because you weren’t allowed to touch yourself. You were pretty sure he didn’t care about that, maybe he’d even enjoy the thought of it. But to you, it felt like betrayal because you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

You didn’t deserve pleasure. That was what you told yourself.

Not, after you hurt him so badly.

And so you kept lingering somewhere in the middle, somewhere stuck between two worlds. The point where your memories met your reality and caused a storm of hopelessness in your mind and body.

You were so lonely. And slowly, it was breaking you.

You tried to keep yourself grounded. You kept thinking back to the life growing inside of you. He kept taking you to the doctor, lightly holding your hand with every ultrasound. But you could barely even focus on the doctor’s words. You used those rare moments to revel in the way he felt, the way it felt to pretend like nothing had changed.

Like he still belonged to you.

The reality was different. Colder. Endless suffering.

And nothing, not even the prospect of whatever was ahead of you, helped.

The soft sound of the door creaking open made you snap out of your thoughts. Your head perked up almost immediately and you caught sight of him, slowly closing the door behind him and tugging on his tie, a weary look in his eyes. He seemed surprised to see you there, his eyes widening for the briefest moment, but he quickly schooled his expression back into the mask of unyielding distance that he had created between you.

That you had created.

“You shouldn’t be up this late.” He immediately averted his gaze and set his briefcase down. After washing his hands and freeing himself from the confinement of his tie and jacket, he returned to the living room. But he still didn’t look at you, not really.

“Why are you still awake?”

“I was waiting for you.” The sound of your own voice nearly made you flinch. It sounded so hollow, so lifeless. Like your constant sorrow was slowly tearing you apart, slowly turning you into the shell of the human you had always meant to be. Maybe your mother had been right all along. Maybe you were simply unlovable.

At the sound of your choked whisper, his head finally did perk up and he looked at you with a small frown. The redness that marked your eyes, the dark circles. The way you hung draped over the couch like every movement hurt. Which it did.

He released a frustrated sigh. “What were you crying about?” After a beat, he added: “Are you trying to upset the baby on purpose?”

His words sent a painful stab through your chest for two reasons. One being, you loved your child. Despite everything. Despite you not knowing if you even truly knew the real meaning of love. You loved it. And you wouldn’t ever want to cause it any harm. And the other reason…that was far more selfish. You couldn’t help but wonder; is that truly the only reason he cares? Does he truly only care about the child now and is that the only reason I’m still here?

“I-“

“You should go to bed. It’s too late for you. Come on.”

“Please, I-“ Your voice cracked and you were sure, you saw the slightest hint of hesitation in his eyes. He didn’t want to be cruel. It was just in his nature. And you, you had provoked this. “I miss you so terribly.”

As quickly as the softness came, as quickly it was gone again and he scoffed. “I’m right here.”

Your lip quivered and you averted your gaze. “That’s not what I mean.”

He let out a long, exhausted sigh and sat down opposite you, his arms crossed defiantly. “What, then? What is there that’s so hard on you, huh? What makes your life so unbearable?”

That made you frown. Where did he get the notion to mock you in this very moment?

“I never said it’s unbearable. I just said, I missed you. And I meant it.”

He rolled his eyes and something inside of you broke again. He was too far gone. Maybe he…Maybe…

“You don’t love me anymore.” Your voice was no more than a horse whisper, and the hitch in your breath gave way to your tears. The quivering of your lip increased and soon, the dam broke. This weren’t hormones. This was your heart breaking.

You didn’t look at him, so you couldn’t have seen how his eyes softened a fraction.

“Stop being an idiot.” He murmured, but his voice was lacking any real malice. “You’re being dramatic.”

“It’s true.” You said quietly, too exhausted to try and act strong any longer. You felt pathetic, you were pathetic and you didn’t care. You were one lonely night away from feeling like you used to. The way you felt whenever your mother locked the door behind you, leaving you small and alone in the darkness. “You haven’t touched me in weeks. You can’t even look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you still love me.”

His lips pressed into a tight line.

God, he was so handsome. All you wanted was to melt into him. You would have rather perished, died by his hand, than to endure another moment without him.

“You’re being absolutely ridiculous. We have one fight and now I don’t love you anymore? Can’t you see how childish that is?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. No. No, you had done enough damage. One stupid accusation had caused all of this, one idiotic question had driven him so far away from you. You couldn’t ask another one.

But you were sure. If you kept it to yourself a second longer, the ground would split up, casting the way to the eternal flames of purgatory and swallow you whole. That was what it felt like. That was how your fear made you feel.

“Did you meet someone else?”

Your voice was barely audible. It was no more than a faint cry, a pained whimper in the night. God, you had never been this afraid before.

What if there was someone?

What if he would never embrace you again?

What if the man who loved you, the man who did all these things for you, was gone? What if not even the evil twin was left?

You would have endured any punishment. The sound of him cutting your hair sounded delightful, all of a sudden. That meant he was reacting. He cared about you. He saw you. He needed you.

And your hair kept falling into your face all the time anyway.

When you looked up to meet his gaze, you didn’t see the quiet fury you had expected. He didn’t seem angry at all, just…

Confused.

His brows furrowed in a frown. “What?”

“If you did”, you choked out somehow, “I’ll accept it. I’ll find a way to live with it or no – well, it might kill me alright, but that’s fine. I’ll find a way. But I need to know. Please, I need to know. Just let me know, okay? Please, don’t lie to me. Please don’t withdraw, please-“

Your quiet despair quickly turned into something else entirely. Something cold and raw, something that was clawing at your sanity and you didn’t care. A dark force took your mind hostage and suddenly you realized, you were dying.

“I’m sorry.” You cried out, unable to lift your gaze. “I’m sorry for saying that, I’m sorry for ever doubting you, I’m so, so sorry for what I said that day. I know you would never harm me nor the child, I know. I don’t know why I did. I don’t know why I-“

Your breaths came quick, too quick to be properly controlled. You just existed. Melted. Burst.

“You think I met someone? You think I’m fucking someone else?” His voice was low and controlled, with a darkness lingering behind. A darkness only you could see.

“Please don’t be angry with me.” You kept muttering out in your despair, clutching at the cushions. You wanted nothing more than to be able to hold him, have him steady you, but you were afraid. Too afraid of his rejection.

If he’d reject you then, you’d die. You’d simply die.

Would at least death be gentle?

“I’m sorry I asked. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please…If you’ll punish me, punish me. I don’t care what you do, I don’t care how much of my hair you cut off. I don’t care how you much you hurt me, okay?! I’m your Hana. I’ll be your Hana for the rest of my life, I’ll be your girl. I’ll be your-“

His grip was sudden, unexpected and firm. And yet you recognized it.

The gentleness.

You inhaled sharply when you felt his hands gently circle your wrists. He turned them in his hands, slowly running his thumbs over the insides.

“Look at me.”

You couldn’t. You were shaking. Too afraid, too…lost.

He used one hand to gently tilt your chin up, giving you no other option than to look at him.

His eyes were serious, so serious, you hadn’t seen him like that in a while. But the cold. The cold was gone.

Not a little, not briefly. Entirely.

Before you knew, he had you wrapped up in his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, into his warmth, his scent, his life.

You let out a startled breath, a quiet sob soaking into his shirt.

And then you broke.

You clung to him like a child, your grip tight and unyielding. It was as though you were trying to melt you into one person and he let you. He let you. He didn’t pull away, didn’t push you and he made no cruel remarks.

He simply held you. Tighter and tighter, until it was bordering on painful.

His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, while the other one ran soothing circles over your back.

“I’m so sorry.” You cried out.

He sighed deeply. “No, darling, no. I’m sorry.”

You froze and pulled your head back, just enough to be able to see his face. “What?”

He nodded, his expression solemn. “I shouldn’t have allowed your words to get to me like that. Deep inside, I knew you didn’t mean it. I should have been there for you. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t.”

“Does that mean-“

“There is no one else.” He said calmly. “I spent the time questioning your little detective. I never…I would never…” He sighed again. “There’s only you for me. Get that in your silly, little head.”

Your lip twitched. It was almost a smile. Almost.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ever have thought that.”

He leaned back, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders as a lazy smile stretched over his lips. “I had no idea you could get so jealous. That’s…interesting.”

You shot him a dark look. But before you had the time to make another comment, you felt his lips press against your own. You didn’t even manage to close your eyes at first. No. You needed to make sure he was really there. Was it really him? Was this real?

Eventually your eyes did flutter shut, first one, then the other.

And your lips parted to let him in.

The kiss tasted like tears and relief.

The will to live flooded your veins in a way you had felt not often before. His kiss was deep. Bruising. Not gentle, not patient.

And you didn’t mind. No. You needed him. Needed him desperately.

“Fuck.” You breathed out, already half on your way to straddle his lap.

“Wait, wait, wait.” A dark laugh rumbled in his chest as he kept you firmly in place. You whimpered and looked at him with the most pleading look.

“What?”

He leaned back and regarded you with a long, soft look.

“You’re not Hana.” He murmured suddenly. “That’s not your name. And I don’t want that name to come over your lips again.”

Your brows shot up and you froze. “But I just-“

“I know why you said it.” He said calmly. “I understand it. But it doesn’t change anything. It’s just…not your name.”

A shiver ran down your spine, causing goosebumps to break out on your skin.

Did he really say that?

Did he…acknowledge it?

Was it in the past? Was the pain in the past? The uncertainty?

Or was this just a passing flicker of hope, that he might crush the next time you said something he didn’t agree with?

You had no time think about it, because he already had you on you his lap, his tongue parting your lips with the same fervor you felt.

It didn’t matter anyway.

He loved you three times that night.

___________________________________

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

Author's note: I know I said I wouldn't upload anything, but I guess this was a way of venting my own frustrations somehow. I'm not sure if it helped - I hope you'll like anyway. Thank you all for your sweet and kind words. You make me feel really seen and less lonely. I love you, guys.🤍

Ps. Sorry for the drama. But I'd totally die for that man, if I was her. Am I insane? Probably. But that doesn't change a thing for me.

[sweetestcowboy]

i legit melted as i continued to read this.

The Offer—Salesman x Fem!Reader

summary— After an encounter with the mysterious and dangerously charming salesman, you find yourself drawn to him and what begins as a simple game quickly escalates when he offers you a deal outside the Squid Game. based on this request.

warnings— sugar baby undertones, praise kink, fingering, oral(f!receiving), body worship, ass slapping, choking, unprotected sex, creampie.

The subway station felt like a dull hum in the background as you sat on a hard bench, looking at your phone. The notification from your bank app stared back at you, a harsh reminder of your poor spending choices. Shopping sprees, credit card bills, and an insurmountable amount of student loan debt weighed on you. You sighed, barely noticing the man who had taken a seat next to you until he cleared his throat.

“Rough day?” a deep, smooth voice said.

You glanced up, and your breath caught in your throat. The man was striking, his tailored suit fit perfectly, his features sharp and symmetrical, with a mischievous glint in his eyes that sent a spark of unease and intrigue down your spine.

“Uh, yeah, you could say that,” you muttered, looking away as you grew flustered.

He chuckled softly. “Well, I can help,” he said, pulling out a neat red envelope from his briefcase. “How about a game?”

“A game?” You frowned, wary but unable to deny the curiosity bubbling inside you.

He opened the envelope, revealing a stack of blue and red tiles. “Ddakji,” he explained, holding up one of the tiles. “We take turns throwing the tile to flip the other. You win, you get 100,000 won each time. You lose,” his smile widened. “I get to slap you.”

Your stomach churned at the proposal, but the thought of cash was too enticing to ignore. “Whatever,” you said, your voice shaky but firm.

The first few rounds were a blur. He was calm, composed, and terrifyingly skilled. You, on the other hand, had no idea what you were doing, your tile landing uselessly each time.

“Not your game, is it?” he teased after you failed again.

“Nah,” you replied.

He leaned closer, and you smelled his cologne, subtle but intoxicating. Instead of raising his hand to deliver the promised slap, he surprised you by tucking the envelope into your hands.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Take my card instead.”

You blinked, staring at the card he offered. It was embossed with a phone number and a strange symbol. “What’s this?”

“For something bigger than a subway game,” he replied. His hand lingered for a moment on yours as he added, “How about I come over, and we talk a bit more? About the game, the prize, and— possibilities.”

Your heart raced as you nodded.

You led him to your apartment, your nerves heightened by his presence. He seemed so calm and confident, while you felt like a mess. Inside, he leaned against your kitchen counter, his jacket now draped over the back of a chair.

“You’re nervous,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile.

“Not nervous,” you lied, but your trembling hands gave you away.

He chuckled, taking a step closer. “You’re interesting. Most people I approach don’t look at me the way you do.”

“And how’s that?” you asked, swallowing hard.

“Like you’re trying to figure me out,” he said, his voice sending a shiver through you.

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, clutching the card tightly.

“Good,” he murmured. “Keep that curiosity. It might take you further than you think.”

You weren’t sure if it was a warning or what, but you couldn’t deny the way his presence filled the room, leaving you breathless and wanting to know more.

“You’ve got a fire in you. I like that.” His voice softened as he added, “But you don’t need to play any games to fix your problems.”

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I could take care of you,” he said simply. He stepped even closer, the space between you closing to almost nothing. “You wouldn’t have to worry about loans, bills—anything. We could come to an arrangement.”

You blinked up at him, your heart racing. “An arrangement?”

“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of.” He reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering near your jaw. “I can take care of you in more ways than one.”

The way he said it sent heat through you. His gaze dipped to your lips again, and you found yourself leaning into his presence without even realizing it. “I’m down for that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. He tilted his head, his face now inches from yours. “Because I think you’ve needed someone to take care of you for a long time.”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours, unhurried, testing the waters. The kiss deepened quickly, fueled by what had been building between you since he first approached you.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue teased yours, earning a soft gasp. He took the opportunity to lift you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, his hands warm and steady against your ass.

“You’re something else,” he said against your lips, his breath hot as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and for a moment, the intensity softened into something almost tender.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, his forehead resting against yours. “This could be the start of something very interesting.”

And boy, you couldn’t help but agree. The kiss reignited, deeper and hotter than before. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him on the counter. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of something warm and spicy made your head swim.

“You smell incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. He pressed his nose to the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply as his lips ghosted over your skin. “Too good, really. Makes me wonder if you’re even real.”

Heat spread through your cheeks, but his words lit something inside you. “I think you’re the one who’s too good to be real,” you teased back.

“Flattery, huh? I like that. But don’t think for a second I don’t see through you.” His hand slid up your thigh, his touch warm. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he silenced you with another kiss, his teeth gently tugging at your bottom lip before pulling back to study your reaction. “No need to lie, sweetheart. I know.”

His hand ventured lower, fingers brushing over the fabric of your skirt, and he hesitated, his eyes meeting yours. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, his tone serious, despite the fire burning in his gaze.

Instead of answering, you bucked your hips into his touch instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips. The corner of his mouth lifted in approval. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered.

His fingers worked, finding your dripping pussy and working their magic, skilled and precise. You couldn’t help but arch into him, your head falling back against the cabinet. “Look at me,” he commanded gently, one hand cupping your jaw to bring your gaze back to his. “I want to see those pretty eyes.”

You obeyed, locking eyes with him as his fingers thrusting inside you intensified, his thumb brushing over your cheek when you whimpered softly. “That’s it,” he said, “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t form words, only nodding as waves of pleasure rolled through you. His digits curled expertly inside you, thrusting against that spongy spot that made your breath catch and your pussy throb. You thrashed and moaned, feeling practically possessed by pleasure. God, you really did need this. He probably thought you were a desperate slut. His thumb tilted your chin up slightly. “Say it,” he murmured, his tone coaxing. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” you managed, your voice shaky. “Yes, I’m—I’m your good girl.”

His grin widened. “That’s my girl.”

Your hand gripped his muscular bicep as he stared down at you, the moment so intimate. Eyes locked on yours, two finger buried inside your pussy and a thumb rubbing your clit, giving you more pleasure your little fingers could ever manage to. Saving money had prevented you from even thinking of buying a vibrator. Soft moans left your lips as he rubbed rough circles on your bundle of nerves, your pussy clenching around nothing before he plunged his fingers back inside you. He thrusted roughly and you couldn’t help but clamp around him.

When the tension inside you reached its peak, he leaned closer, his lips grazing your ear. “Cum for me. Right here, right now. I want to see you fucking cum.”

And you did, trembling against him as his fingers pushed you over the edge, your breaths coming out in stuttering gasps. His praises washed over you as he held you steady, his grip comforting.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You stayed like that for a moment, letting the quiet hum of the room wrap around you as you caught your breath.

The heat between you both heightened as his lips trailed down your neck softly. His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you closer on the counter. He paused, meeting your gaze with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re addictive,” he murmured, voice rich and low. “I want to taste every part of you.”

Your breath hitched as he dropped to his knees, his hands steady on your thighs. “Can I taste you?” he asked, his tone sincere despite the hunger in his eyes.

You nodded, words escaping you entirely. His smirk deepened as he guided your legs apart, his lips brushing your inner thigh. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice soft. “And all mine.”

His tongue explored every inch of you, licking from your pelvis, then down to your clit. His focus on your clit, slurping and flicking it made your toes curl and your legs clamp around his head. He chuckled deeply, the sound sending vibrations through your body and he pried your legs open, continuing his feast.

“I’ve never seen anyone as stunning as you,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”

Each kiss on your clit and touch over your thighs sent sparks through you, and you couldn’t help the soft moans escaping your lips. He looked up, his eyes dark. “I want to hear you,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good it feels.”

You moaned loudly, your voice trembling with emotion. “That’s my good girl,” he said. “So beautiful, my perfect girl.”

As he continued to worship you, every lick and word worked together, unraveling you completely. When you finally came, trembling with his mouth on your pussy, he held your gaze, his expression softening as he spoke.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your clit. “Don’t forget that.”

When you came down from your high, he stood, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re everything I need,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours.

His hands gripped your hips as he lifted you slightly, settling you more securely on the counter. The warmth of his hard cock pressed against your pussy sent shivers down your spine, but his lips found yours again, slow and tender.

“Relax,” he murmured, “I’ve got you, baby.”

You exhaled shakily as he freed his hard cock moving closer. He dragged the thick, leaking tip along your folds before slowly inching inside your tight pussy. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, giving you time to adjust to his size. His hands were steady on your waist, his thrusts careful and slow. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours.

“Yes,” you whispered, and he smiled.

“Good,” he said, his lips capturing yours again, deeper this time. “I’ll take care of you, always.”

The praise flowed from him effortlessly as he began pounding into you. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured against your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your skin. “So good for me. Taking my cock so well.”

Your hands tangled in his dark hair as you tilted your head back. His pace shifted, repeatedly slamming against the sweet spot inside you and his lips found yours once more. “Cum on my cock,” he said, his forehead pressed to yours. “I’ve got you. Just cum for me.”

You gripped his bicep, your pussy responding to his words as your juices soaked his cock inside you. He held you steady, his praises unrelenting. “That’s it,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your temple. “You’re incredible, such a good girl for me.”

The moment lingered, but you didn’t let it fade completely. Instead, your shaky hands found his, as he helped you off the counter and his lips captured yours again. You guided him toward your bedroom, the two of you stumbling slightly as you moved.

“You’re mine,” he murmured between kisses, his words muffled but filled with conviction. “No one else gets you like this.”

The bedroom door swung open, and he didn’t hesitate, his hands finding your waist again as he backed you toward the bed. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he muttered in awe.

You moved onto your hands and knees, adjusting until your back arched perfectly, drawing a low hum of approval from him.

“There we go,” he said, his hand smoothing over the curve of your spine before resting on your hip. “Just like that, absolutely perfect.”

A sharp, playful slap landed on your ass, making you jolt slightly, and he chuckled. “Couldn’t resist,” he teased, his hand soothing over the spot. “You look too good like this.”

He held onto your waist as his cock rested against your pussy. “You’ve got such a gorgeous body,” he murmured, his voice dropping as his hands roamed gently over your ass. “You don’t even realize how stunning you are, do you?”

You felt his gaze on you lingering, as you wiggled onto his cock, “That’s it, bring that ass back just like that for me. You’re so perfect.”

You met his thrusts as he rolled his hips, his cock disappearing inside your pussy. Each time he bottomed out, his cock was covered in your cream.

“Fuck, you’re really enjoying this baby,” he hummed, staring at how wet you got his shaft.

He held you steady, his hands molding to your curves, his cock brushing against your cervix with each thrust, his voice warm as he leaned closer. “You’re incredible,” he said, his breath brushing against your ear. “Every single part of you fucking especially this.” He squeezed your ass gently, his admiration clear.

He placed a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder before wrapping his hand around your neck to bring you closer so you were arching off him. His pace quickened, each thrust deep, as he held you by your neck securely in place. You arched deeper instinctively, your back pressing against his chest, and his breath warmed your ear.

“Let me hear you,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Cum for me.”

Your breaths quickened, and you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you just as he requested. His grip was firm and his words spilled effortlessly, “That’s my good girl. You’re incredible.”

As everything built to a crescendo, you felt yourself shudder. His hand on your throat tightened slightly, steadying you through the moment. The world around you faded, leaving only his cock moving inside you, anchoring you. You were still squirting as he pounded into you and soon, you felt his sticky cum coat your walls.

When it was over, he pulled you close, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re breathtaking,” he said softly before retreating, leaving you to catch your breath.

Moments later, he appeared with a damp cloth, cleaning you up with a care that seemed to contradict his character. He set it aside, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk that was entirely too charming.

“So,” he said casually, folding his arms, “about those bank account details.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. He grinned, the shine in his eyes unmistakable.

“Relax,” he added with a soft chuckle, leaning down to brush a lock of hair from your face. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

[willyoubemycherryy]

Seeing is deceiving. (Salesman x reader)

Summary: You were witness to something you shouldn’t have been. Or were you? Seeing is deceiving after all…

Contains: [Oh Lord😭😭🙏🏽], here we go because not only is this long, it’s filth😭, you see him slightly in action as the recruiter, bullying, small panic attack, Clueless mention, manhandling, kissing, edging, vibrators, being restricted, the word daddy but referring to her actual father it’s NOT a sex thing, degradation, cursing, manipulation, nasty kissing, pussy spanking, overstimulation, multiple 0rgasms, squirting, dacriphylia, oral, a bit of cl!t t°rture, throat fucking, dom/sub dynamics, he’s big meanie :(((, my word, mind-break but not like that, we’re consensual and safe over here, biting, breezing by red flags like here comes the sun, praise, dirty talk and petnames anddd that’s all for now😭

A/N: back again for that threepeat of the dads!friend au! babies so here we go😉🤭

Kisses and more to—>@dorayakissu @jae-mie @lcvsanaa @love2fangirl @jusferisnothere @dilfismz @mybahama @trentknd @reka13 @511rkive @gr-red @karrashifts @nicklet94 @sangwoosb1tch @muchwita @deliur @urfavdarkskinn @lilahardell @ilovemusic28 @se0kie @taylormarieee aka my wife ♡

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ _ X _

You slammed the door behind you and lean against it with a deep sigh. You shake your head trying to process what you just saw on your way home. You’d been passing through the same park you always did on your commute when you saw a familiar dark haired suited man in the distance.

His back was turned to you but the shot of heat to your core at the mere sight of him was a dead certain ringer that you weren’t seeing things. It was him. Perfect hair, perfect suit, perfect shoes, and fuck you all over again- his height. He seemed to be talking to someone or multiple people when he suddenly started yelling and your eyes popped open as you took a small step forward and saw who, exactly. They were homeless people.

He stood on a pile that looked a lot like snack food and your breath caught; freezing you in place as your mind began to race.

Something blew past your foot and when you look down your heart stops as your wide eyes land on a scratched lottery ticket. The looming sense- almost the same as when you first met him- takes over but with more dread as you put two and two together.

You’d always had strong intuitions. They were never wrong.

From the moment you locked eyes with him in your kitchen, you knew right then and there that there was something wrong with him. Even through the interest, the attraction, and the arousal- deep down you knew. And you were right. Staring right at the evidence.

Looking up, you watch him turn around and see that same perfect grin on his perfect face before his eyes scan the downtrodden looking crowd- until they land on you.

You share a brief moment of eye contact before you’re spinning on your heel and escaping before it’s too late leaving.

Now, you’re at home, trying to process the fact that the only man who’s ever been able to rail you not only into submission but unconsciousness as well is also a complete empathy lacking sociopath who gets his jollies from bullying homeless people as if they didn’t have it hard enough. You know in a way, it’s contradictory for you of all people to judge him given all the ways you’ve let him have you- your dads friend- but you still had limits.

Dropping your bag by the door, you take a deep breath before pushing yourself off and look around, taking in the familiar space as you will yourself to calm. A soft smile crosses your face as you see your dads half finished drink mug on the coffee table, the slight dip in the spot he normally sat on the couch and you breathe. He wouldn’t be home for another few hours which gives you time to figure out how to casually question him about his new friend and what exactly he knew about him and his life…say, if he’s noticed any..deranged tendencies.

You go up to your room to change, trying to think but not overwhelm yourself but it’s hard. Everyone had a dark side but what daunted you most was that you never knew how dark it went- especially with older men you didn’t truly know. You take off your set of the day; a plaid miniskirt with matching blazer, fitted white blouse and white thigh high stockings complete with heels to a oversized band shirt but leave your socks on after you ditch your heels. The whole outfit was inspired after a movie you watched last night with your dad and your friend called ‘Clueless’. Before you can finish getting unready, the doorbell chime echos through the house and your brows crease in confusion.

Your classes ended before your friends so you know it wasn’t any of them plus your best friend had the code. It was too early for your dad and he obviously had the code but you also remember that your dad has the habit of falling for the nonsensical shit sold on infomercials; having ordered some stuff last week with prime shipping so it was probably here already. The doorbell rings again and you sigh as you make sure your shirt is long enough to cover anything too heart-racing before grabbing a pen off your desk incase you need to sign for anything and bounding down the stairs to swing open the door.

The second you open it, your heart falls clean through your chest and out your ass when you come face to face with a pair of dark almond eyes and full lips curved into a smile.

“Hello-”,

You slam the door shut so fast the sound of the lock is delayed, pen slipping out of your hand.

Now comes the painful moment when your heart shoots back up into your chest, powered by pure adrenaline as it pounds 2 times its normal speed. He was probably here to kill you. Yet before your raw panic leads to hysterics, the doorbell rings again with all the comfort of the tolling of an undertakers bell as it rolls through the large space and for once you wish your house was smaller.

You don’t move at all to open it again and after a beat of silence, his deep voice calls out to you- by name first, shaking you to your core because you don’t remember him ever calling you by your name and the way it sounds…

“Let’s have a talk-”,

“How about no. Or actually, why? I don’t believe we have anything to talk about.” You interrupt him and your voice doesn’t shake like you thought it definitely would but he can still hear the nervousness and smirks to himself, tossing a glance to the side before looking back at the door. The one his recently acquired sharp mouthed pretty little investment stood behind. You’d been a clear witness to something you weren’t supposed to witness.

Clear in the sense that you were a credible witness. Not on any drugs- besides the birth control pills he’d seen on your nightstand your first time together- you weren’t an alcoholic, and you came from a well off, honest background unlike the people who met their fate at his hands, if you were to anyone anything about…something…they’d most likely believe you.

A huge part of being able to do what he does is staying traceless.

You were now a liability to that. And liabilities left unattended became issues.

So, he was here to attend to that liability, not by harming you but making you forget a little bit.

“Why? Well because you saw something that I’d prefer to keep quiet. Much like how I saw you somewhere wearing less than something, away from daddy dearests watchful eye not even a week and a half ago-”,

Your eyes snap wide and before he can finish outing the rest of your last tryst, you’re swinging the door open and pulling him in by his pristine blazer jacket, staring up at his annoying attractive face in irritation, shock and disbelief.

“Fine. Let’s chat. I’ll go first-”, you sneer and he just smiles innocently down at you, pissing you off enough to forget your previous apprehension. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Ooh. There’s that biting tone again but he’s come to appreciate what it gets him. As much as he wants to drag this out, rile you to your breaking point and play with tipping you over, he’s not sure if time is on his side.

“To which standard? Societally, humanitarilly, or personally?” He asks cluelessly, as if talking about the weather and your frown deepens.

“All of them.” You hiss out, narrowing your doe eyes at him and he coos; making a show out of bending to your height; looking you condescendingly in the eyes when he replies, “Uh-oh. That’s not allowed. You were only supposed to pick one, little girl.”

“But-!“, he continues like you didn’t even speak,“But since you technically didn’t, I don’t have to answer.” He flicks an eyebrow up while you look like you’re seconds from throwing a fit which is exactly where he wants you because this way it’s easier to steer you back towards the original focus, standing to his full height as he readjusts the grip on his briefcase.

“Then can you answer what was that at the park? Is that something you just do in your free time-”, you pause as you remember something he said to you the last time he saw you out, “Does my dad know his friend gets his rocks off playing sick games with the less fortunate?” His eyes darken at that and so does his smile at the exaggerated wide eyed expression on your face, shiny lips dropped in a small ‘O’ as you raise your manicured hand to hover over it and he huffs in amusement. Shaking his head he steps closer into your space, wiping that look right off as your heart stutters at his proximity- the expensively warm smell of him wafting in your face as he leans back down to your height to even the score. You stare back defiantly and he chuckles darkly; wondering if you were aware of your penchant for getting in over your lovely little head.

“No. And he won’t- in fact nobody will. Not unless you want daddy to know all about how you like being my personal slut in your free time.”

His words are like ice but the heat in their explicitness makes fire slot to your cunt. You stare back at him stunned, letting out a scandalized hiss.

“You wouldn’t.” But he nods, nice n’ slow as he raises a finger to tilt your chin up and against everything, you feel your body start to warm.

“Oh, but I would. Care to find out?”

You keep your mouth shut but your glare says more than enough and he rises fully, moving his hand to your lower back as he guides you to a chair with a padded leather cushion, firm hand making you sit.

You look up at him in untrusting confusion while he takes you in from the sweetness of your face down to the swells of your chest through your oversized shirt and the soft fat of your thighs being squeezed by the pure white fabric of your socks. He kneels in front of you, big hands settling on your ankles before running up the smoothness of your legs and you suck in a sharp breath. His hands were dangerous. Memories of what he could do with them make you burn from the inside out and you try to blink it away but then he speaks.

“Let’s play a game. One where you can learn enough about me to decide if I’m sane-”,

“What’s the catch?” You cut him off with an unknowingly spot on question and he grins.

“How do you mean?” He tries to feign ignorance but you scoff, not buying it.

“You’re a business man right? So sales come with catches. Like to get one free, you have to buy one.” He hums, nodding as he rises to his feet. You’re a clever little thing.

He’s leaning down over you, making your breath hitch at how close he suddenly is to your face; looking at you appraisingly for a couple seconds before catching you in a deep kiss. Almost instinctively, your eyes flutter shut and letting him take control is muscle memory as his hands ghosts over your jaw to fit around your throat; sucking your lips between his own before licking into your mouth- tongue hot and demanding and you melt. Wet, muffled moans come from your chest as he kisses you dizzy before pulling away with a harsh smack. Licking his lips of the taste of you and one look at you tells him that you’re wet. Wet and distracted.

Perfect.

Backing off, he kneels back down to where he was before but he grabs his briefcase as well, setting it down in front of you. Watching you shift. He was dangerous- not well- but reminding yourself of that doesn’t make giving in any less hard behind all the reasons why you’re so attracted to him in the first place either. There was something you needed to know but the specifics of it were getting further and further away with every hit of him.

“Let’s do this”, his low drawl breaks your train of thought, “every 3 minutes you last without coming, you get to ask me a question.”

You try to hide the flicker of interest on your face as lava pools in your stomach, clit pulsing at the thought of him making you cum but it gives as curiosity wins over. However, as of current, you still hardly knew him so you could be wrong but your gut never was; deciding to leave the skepticism in your voice as you begin your interrogation.

“..but what if you lie? We’re not exactly close so how would I even know if you did? ‘S not exactly fair…” He smiles as he commends you.

You were keen.

Dangerously intuitive and he’s eager even to get you to play now- see how far they go as he runs the risk of exposing the more sinister side of him.

But that’s what made games fun; the risks.

“Then I’ll give you my word. I won’t lie during our game.” You pause to think but it sounded simple enough to you agree.

“Deal.”

•

•

•

No sooner than the word left your lips, he opened his briefcase, pulling out a rod of sorts with thick leather loops on either side and a small oval case. It was obvious by your face that you had no idea what the items were but he ignored it, setting you up prettily with a grin.

He goes over the rules of your little game as he shifts your hips forward, smiling at your gasp before extending to the rod and opening the loops where he fits each one around of your ankles- sliding them up just under your knees; your face heats at how completely exposed you are and you shake your head in confusion before it suddenly makes sense.

You couldn’t close your legs.

The realization fills you with more arousal than fear and you bite your lip, feeling giddy. It kinda bums that the only way you’d get what you need to know was by depriving yourself of what you want but that’s fine. Only- you didn’t know that the game you just agreed to was nothing more than a distraction and whether you could handle it or not, he’s making sure by the end of it that you don’t even remember your own name.

Once your legs are secure, he opens the small oval case and pulls out something about 4 inches long but thick as 3 of his own fingers and your jaw drops as he pushes the bar up- blowing over your messy wet hole before looking up at you with a dark smile, eyebrow raised and you swallow harshly.

“Ready?”

You nod, heart thrumming when a choked gasp tumbles out of you as the thing in his hand is sliding into you. It’s not that long but fuck is it thick and you can’t help the whine from the back of your throat, cunt fluttering around the stretch of the intrusion and he whistles. Watching with rapt eyes as wetness drips down your holes and he licks his lips at the sight- remembering the sweet taste of your pussy vividly and it makes his cock jump.

He presses the bottom of the the device and you think it’s to push it deeper but to your horror; it begins to vibrate. And strongly. A sharp moan shoots out of you, eyes widening while you instinctively try to arch away from the pleasure making your nerves go haywire.

Unfortunately for you, the way your lower body is already positioned makes it easy for those delicious vibrations to simmer up against that spot inside you and your temperature rises and short, quick breaths are all you can do to keep from even wanting to cum. Holding out is supposed to be one of those mind over matter things but when he lowers his head, sucking firm openmouthed kisses to the sensitive skin around your cunt but not where you want him and it’s absolute torture.

A hand cracks down on the back of your thigh and it stings so good- you hiss in pleasure even as he bites the apex of your opposite thigh, leaving behind a painful sting. Your hips involuntarily jerk up at the sensations as your moans rise in pitch while you squeeze your eyes shut and think of every unsexy thing you can imagine when everything suddenly stops and you drop your head back with a relieved sigh.

3 minutes was up.

He looks you over, swiping through your wetness with a finger up to your clit and giving you some tight, quick circles, enjoying the way you tremble from the direct pressure but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came and you’re starting to get whiplash. A blow of air to your clit makes you look down, blinking blearily. The man responsible for your condition smiles.

“Congratulations. You won the first round. What do you want to know?” He asks and you scramble to sort your thoughts, the dull ache from being close and not coming nags at you but you needed to focus…the only issue was deciding if you needed to cum more than focus. Clearing your throat so you don’t sound too affected, you ask the first thing that comes to mind.

“How old are you?” The look he shoots you makes you groan, especially when you move to squeeze your thighs together only to remember that you can’t thanks to the bar keeping them open.

He’d told you when you first met that he was older than your father but you didn’t believe it. Mainly because he just looked too young; older than you of course but not too up there. You half expect him to lie but he smiles when you learn that you’re wrong again.

“I’m 45 turning 46 this summer.” Holy shit. Your dad is 43. He really was older.

You can’t keep the slack-jawed shock off your face and he laughs. You were such a treat when you weren’t getting in trouble or being a brat. You rush to squeeze in another question.

“Wait so do you actually work in sales too-ah!” He cuts you off by licking a hot strip up your cunt, vibrator vrring to life and it starts melting your insides. It feels like your chest is gonna cave in from how hard you suck in your next breath when he slots his mouth over your clit like he’s wanted to since the first flashback he had of how sweet you’d tasted under his tongue last time, and sucking- flicking his tongue over the nub during the process.

Your heart sinks when you realize how close you already are from being pushed to the edge but not over. It’s not fair. If you didn’t cum then he’d have to answer whatever you asked but there’s no way you’d be able to stay composed enough for long enough to ask anything that actually mattered. His mouth is relentless as he laps and sucks at your pussy, humming like you’re a drink he’s been craving after a long stressful day at work.

The hands around your hips are scalding, caressing your skin underneath your shirt and you feel like screaming; lick after lick you get closer and it’s both heaven and hell.

There’s a sick sense of glee that settles in his lower stomach at how close he knows you are. When your buzzing hole is practically pouring slick and your beautifully desperate moans break into hiccuping sobs as your chest begins to rise and fall with every pointless breath you take to fight your inevitable. If he were a better man, he’d ease up on you- or better yet- not fuck around with his friends daughter to begin with but you were too delicious to pass by.

He slows the drag of his tongue upwards, catching the underside of your twitching clit, he closes his eyes when you wail- letting the sound ring in his ears like his favorite tune. He manages to give you one last flick through your slit before time is up and he’s pulling away with pupils just as blown as your teary ones. Your wet sniffle makes his cock ache and his hard on almost feels uncomfortable. He doesn’t wipe his mouth of your wetness, just looks up at you with it smeared all over and smiles. Like a fucking wolf before speaking.

“Good girl. You won again so what do you want to know?”

You briefly look at him like he’s out of his goddamn mind while you try to catch your breath because you can’t focus. Not like this. The ache in your stretched cunny hurt, the weight of the vibrator was driving you mad as every puff of air on your clit made it twitch painfully. God, the ache. You have half a mind to ask him to fuck you stupid but you need to know things apparently. You try to remember those things as you open your mouth, adrenaline infused arousal clouding your thoughts. Fuck, you needed to cum.

“D-do you seriously work in marketing and sales? Like- the legit stuff?” Your voice is wet and hoarse but to him it’s when you sound the best and he hums, tilting his head as he thinks.

In a way, what he did was marketing and sales. “Not the same as your dad but I do market to people. They get the opportunity of getting money out of what I market to them so I’d say it’s legit.” He chooses his words carefully and you process them but you’re too out of it to notice the deliberate placement of them and it’s so pretty and pathetic that he can’t help himself- dipping his head to meanly suck your clit into his mouth and the ache of your missing orgasms makes your cunt burn; tears budding in your eyes as you grip the sides of the chair. He pulls off with a slick ‘pop’, grinning darkly as he cooes at you.

“Aw- you’re just the sweetest, huh baby?”

That sentence alone almost sends you hurtling headfirst into coming, mouth dropping open as you let out a weak moan. Said moan turns into a shriek as he turns your vibe back on, the strength in the vibrations knock the air out of your lungs, not giving you any longer than a second to adjust before rubbing messily at your pearl and it’s barely been a full minute but you’re there. You’re right there and you can’t keep yourself from begging.

“N-uhn! Not so mu-fuck!” Pleasured moans make it a feat to get the words out and you pray he understands and he does but he doesn’t stop and he knows you don’t want him to. The game wasn’t over yet and sadly for you since it was his game, he was in charge.

“No. We said we’d play, remember pretty? Can’t quit because it feels like you might lose. That’s poor sportsmanship and I’m sure your daddy didn’t raise a quitter?” He’s so mean about it.

Deep voice full of fake warm encouragement as he mocks you and the budding tears fall, spurring him on as he raises his hand; cuff link catching in the light before he’s cracking down on your cunt. Slap echoing through the air and it stings it stings it stings- so bad.

Just not enough to stop you from getting closer, heart pounding and you can’t catch your breath, every inhale seems to dissolve like smoke and he’s cruel about it. Not letting you catch a break with the hot lashes of his tongue; even coming up every few times to degrade you.

“You should see yourself”,

“Aw, does it hurt? She’s so swollen- I imagine it does”,

“You cry so easily; c’mon, where’s daddy’s big girl?”

You don’t know if he’s referring to himself or your actual father but it doesn’t matter anymore. You feel about ready to pass out from the intensity of all his ministrations as you go limp, pussy walls spasming around the toy and you resign to your fate of an orgasm so strong it’ll stop your heart and finally put you out of your misery when everything stops and empty pulses make you scream for real as you’re edged for the third time.

You’d be impressed with yourself if you had more presence of mind but you just don’t have it in you. He knows that too seeing as how that was the whole point. Tears stream down your face, running your eye makeup but the glossy ruined look suits you. Biting his lip, he smothers a chuckle as he asks you what you want to ask him. The way you cry sending shockwaves of delight up his spine.

It also takes you longer to regulate your breathing, stiff nipples poke through your shirt as your chest heaves until you lift your head enough to look at him; the fight, the confusion, the sheer desperation in your gaze makes him want to take you and keep you.

“..i-i don’t..look-”, clear thinking evades you as you try to remember what started this and what exactly you needed to know so badly from him. The knowing glint in his eye is unhelpful.

“Wha- what did I ask you again?” Your voice is small but thick with neediness that’s cuter than it should be given the situation and it gives him the nastiest rush as he pushes the spreader bar more towards your chest. Tutting as he shakes his head in faux disappointment.

“The same words that just left your lips. Not a very good question but oh well. Better luck next time.”

Your eyes pop open and you feel like slapping yourself because that was technically a question. Before you can protest- demand a reassessment- the vibrator gets flipped back on but instead of leaving it in, he takes it out to press it on your clit. It’s warm and slick with your wet as he holds it against the sensitive bundle of nerves. At this point you’re shaking and he watches with heated eyes as the slight gape of your hole flutters around nothing and he slides his own fingers in- crooking them upwards with a filthy grind against that spot and a punched out gasp is all that manages to squeak by your lips when you cum.

It hits you hard and oh god- it goes on forever as your body doesn’t just chase one orgasm but all the other ones you edged yourself with and you sob in the bliss that takes you over, white hot pleasure leaving you raw from the inside out as you make a fucking mess. Liquid sputtering on the leather beneath you, the fingers inside you and the man in front of you. It’s so good that by the time it’s over you’re a blank slate. Not a single thought in your brain as you lay motionless.

He watches with a stare so hungry it’s scary and his own voice is heady when he speaks, unable to tear his eyes away from the mess that was your swollen pussy fresh off a squirting orgasm. You always came so hard.

“Ooh. That was a gooood one wasn’t it? Unfortunately, it cost you this round. That means I get to ask you a question so focus up pretty girl.”

He taps your cheek a few times with wet fingers and you groan, forcing your head up as you let out a wrecked,

“Y-yes?”

Even in the face of everything he’s managed to put you through in such a short time, he’s still so good looking. Maddeningly and devastatingly attractive; you’d let him walk you like a dog if it would please him and your cunt throbs at the sight of his face as he asks his question.

“How long until daddy dearest gets home?” The answer fall out before you can stop it, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall behind him.

“4 hours.”

And that’s the sound of your benediction.

He huffs out a dark breath moving to lift your chin with his finger, quirking his eyebrow in a condescending look and your pulse races as he rises to full height before bending down to whisper against your mouth.

“Want to go another round? Can you think of any more questions for me, little girl? If you can think at all…”

It’s a rhetorical question because he can see from the familiar vacant look in those doe eyes of yours that whatever suspicions about him are the farthest things from your mind that involve him and he smiles when you prove him right with a cute shake once of your head.

After that, he hums, dropping to a knee to free you from the bar, leaving it next to his case as he stands and wraps his large hand around your upper arm- wrenching you up as he tosses you on the couch, drawing a breathy gasp from you. Your heart skyrockets as he throws you around and as you watch him strip his jacket; leaving it on the back of the chair you just came on.

He undoes his belt as he walks back to you, fat cock in hand with his eyes locked on you and the sinful picture you make with tight high socks, the inside of your thighs wet from the liquid of your orgasm. He stops to stand behind you looking into your eyes as he pushes you to lay back down but with your head hanging over the armrest of the couch and the way your heart pikes straight down to your clit- you know exactly what’s coming next. A hand brushes the side of your face, going up to your hair as fingers lock into the strands.

“You still wanna play with me, baby?” He asks for your consent in that roundabout way he does and you nod.

“Open your mouth.”

You do, squeezing your thighs together as he slides in, stretching your throat with the sheer size of him and your eyes water. You swallow hard to keep from choking and it makes him groan deep from his chest. Biting his lip as his brows draw together in pleasure.

The tight slick walls of your throat are snug around him and you’re so good; shivers wrack up his spine as he pulls out and starts thrusting, making you gag as your mouth becomes wetter from his rough treatment of you. Your wet gags send wonderful vibrations up his cock every-time he slams in and he looks down, almost coming from the sight. Your glossy eyes with fucked up runny makeup fluttering into the back of your skull, spit coming from the sides of your stretched out lips and he curses, losing himself in the debauched pleasure.

“Yeah…that’s it. Gag on it- my pretty little slut”, he groans, wrapping a hand around the bulge of your throat with a shudder, bending over until he can touch your cunt, making you choke when he stuffs you with 3 of his fingers, immediately fucking them up into that gooey bundle that makes you nice n’ easy as he treats your poor throat like a fleshlight.

You let him use you, chasing the same high as he bullies your cunt. The added oxygen deprivation from him fucking your throat makes you dizzy- drunk on raw sensations as your heart works overtime to support your fix.

You don’t remember how you got here and you don’t care; pussy twitching hotly around his pounding digits and he doubles his efforts, hips slamming into your face- your muffled cries around his cock bringing him close to the brink. Thumbing your nub roughly, the sweet bliss crashes over you and your eyes knock back into your skull as you cum almost deliriously.

When you cum, your throat becomes airtight as it flexes, milking him so hard he’s shooting ropes with a wet heady moan that makes you thrum.

Taking his fingers out, wet with the milky strings of your arousal- he sucks them clean. Buried in your throat all the while as he catches his breath and enjoys your taste, a pleasant buzz settling over him as he slips out a few seconds later, bending down to kiss you. It’s concerning how he overlooks the fact that his dick was just in there as he sucks harshly at your lips, kissing you like he owned you as he licks deeper into your mouth still wet with saliva and him. You kiss back in a daze until he pulls away with a satisfied purr.

You looked as fucked out as you felt and he finally decides to take mercy on you. Swayed a little by the barb-toothed liking he’s taken to you. He fixes his pants as he grabs a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wipes your mouth while you watch him dazedly. He pulls your shirt down and puts his items back in his briefcase- even wipes your cum off the chair. When he’s done, he kneels next to your limp form on the couch with a secretive grin not even trying to hide that he knew something you didn’t and that now you were too out of it to clock or press what it was. Oh well. He opens his mouth to mindfuck you one more time.

“So what did you want to talk about again?”

Your brows furrow and you squint at him while you try to wrack your mind for whatever he was talking about. Was he asking about what happened at the club? You’d gotten home late in somewhat presentable condition but he ran a good story to your father about happening across you and your friend and picking you up on his way home because her car broke down and he’d spotted you guys stranded somewhere with no cell service which explained why you weren’t picking up your phone.

But during everything that happened. You don’t remember telling him you two needed to talk about anything. You give him a belated sigh, shrugging noncommittally and his grin broadens.

“I dunno, can’t remember.” You slur out, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under you as you close your eyes.

He watches you in silence until your breathing evens out when he looks at the clock.

Your dad would come home in two and a half hours to you sleeping innocently on the couch. You who he’d succeeded in making forget the nasty scene at the park.

He’ll be more careful in the future.

He looks down at the captivating features of your face, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your cheek like he did your first night together- inclined to give you something soft after being so rough- reasoning that it’s out of habit and nothing more as he rises to his feet, collecting his jacket and case as he slips out the front door, closing it softly behind him so you stayed sleeping.

He smiles something twisted as he walks down the street to hail a taxi and he thinks about you.

You were smart- keen. Enough to give him trouble…. but nowhere near his game. Not yet.

You’d stay in the dark for a while. Might as well have fun too while you’re there.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ your love is like a drug (but it isn't enough) ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anon ˚₊ ⊹

ft. the salesman (+ kang dae-ho) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ being a mere “sugar baby” was never enough to begin with, not when he wanted to possess you entirely┊2.3k words

contains: yandere salesman!! obsessive/possessive behaviors, drugging, kidnapping/abduction, legal age gap (reader is early 20s, salesman is mid 40s), jealousy, mentioned smut, handcuffs (not kinky)

➤ author's note: sorry for the lack of posts!! this isn't very good and is pretty rushed, but it's something, i hope to post more soon!!

the arrangement between the two of you is simple. you needed funds to pay off college tuition, he wanted companionship from a pretty thing like you and was willing to give you anything money could buy for it. there wasn’t much else to it, or so you thought at first.

you were hesitant at first when he came to you with his proposal, as expected. most people only joke about being a sugar baby and never anticipate actually doing it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. you were living in a cramped apartment with two roommates, working a job at the local bakery where he met you, and a full-time student trying so hard to get her degree. stressed and overworked seemed too weak to describe your situation, and you needed a reprieve even if the most convenient solution was rather taboo to most people. although, most people wouldn’t turn down a golden opportunity like the one he was offering you. you could have anything your heart desired as long as it had a price tag: jewelry, luxury clothing items, foreign cars, merchandise from your favorite media, and whatever else you could think of. there seemed to be no limits to his wealth, and all you had to do was spend time with him whenever he called for you.

sometimes he would take you on shopping trips to help you navigate the opulent malls and pick out what he thought looked best on you, often talking to the store assistants the entire time to help dress you up. it left you feeling like an antique doll with how they put you in extravagant dresses, treated you delicately like porcelain, and ignored you for the most part as if you didn’t have sentience or an opinion about what you liked. it didn’t really matter if you liked the blue dress more than the red one or if you thought the material was itchy, he was the one paying and you often stayed silent because of that. 

sometimes he would take you out for dinner in fancy restaurants whose names you couldn’t pronounce properly and wine that cost more than what your monthly rent used to. he would frown each time you instinctively pick the cheapest item on the menu, but you never pick the most expensive one out of good conscience, so you settle for somewhere in the middle. occasionally he would run into someone he knew, another bigwig businessman you presume, and while he’s polite, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you can tell he’s annoyed that his time with you has been interrupted. you’re not sure why though, you don’t think your company is anything worth noting. 

once he took you on vacation to a tropical foreign country after hearing you complain once about the winters in korea. first-class tickets, of course. no matter how hot it became, you only ever saw him in a suit in tie, never seeming to break a sweat or having a hair out of place. now that you think of it, you’ve ever seen him in formalwear, completely nude, or in a towel after the fact. the air of formality never leaves him, even in your most vulnerable moments together.

truthfully, he’s strange, not just because of his choice of dress. even if he’s older, you’re curious as to why he isn’t married when he’s tall, handsome, rich, and well-educated. you also wonder about his past since he rarely ever talks about himself, much preferring to hear you talk about your day or whatever was weighing on your mind instead. most of all though, you want to know why he chose you of all people when you’re nothing special and think of yourself to be average in all aspects.

oh, and did you mention that you didn’t know his name? you always called him ‘sir,’ asking about it a few times just for him to tell you it wasn’t important, not seeming to mind the nickname. if anything, he seemed to like the reminder of the power he had over you.

still, you didn’t push anything. you didn’t feel like you had a right to when he was basically financing your entire life at the moment. besides, you were just grateful your sugar daddy was a good-looking businessman who didn’t force affection on you when you didn’t want it rather than some slimy old man. there wasn’t much to complain about other than his excessively mysterious nature, so you continued to say nothing and just smiled as you always have.

you were so fucking stupid, not blind to the warning signs but choosing to ignore them. learning the answers to all your questions came at a heavy cost. if only you had known then what his true nature was like, just how twisted his mind and feelings were, you would have run far and never looked back. although, knowing his insanity, he probably would walked through hell to track you down and bring you back to his arms.

it all started to fall apart with a guy you met at a local cafe, running into him when you turned a corner and knocked over the boxes he was carrying. while rushing to help him out, you thought he looked familiar and asked about it, quickly finding out that he was the younger brother of an old coworker whom you were close with. he seemed to brighten up like a lightbulb went off in his head, immediately knowing who you were saying that his sister mentioned you a lot. you were embarrassed yet curious to know what was discussed, which led to a lengthy conversation over coffee and cake once his shift was over that ended with you giving him his number. 

it was history from there. although the two of you were only friends at the current, there was an undeniable undertone of romance behind every word, touch, and interaction. you couldn’t help it, not when he was naturally so sweet, attentive, and most importantly, emotionally available while also treating you like an equal. you know you shouldn’t yearn for that when an imbalance of power was standard for your “unique” relationship with the other older man in your life, but it made you feel so seen and human instead of a little glorified pet. dae-ho may not have much money, but he made you so happy in a way you’ve never felt before. it felt so right to be with him, two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.

was it really so bad to “cheat” on your sugar daddy? it’s not like there was a contract involved that was binding you to him, it was only an exchange of your time and affection for his money. there was never a conversation about seeing other people, so as far as you were concerned, there wasn’t any real reason why you couldn’t flirt a little with dae-ho, but you still tried your best to keep him as a little secret and was careful never to bring it up to him. he seemed to be extremely busy with work at the moment anyways, you haven’t been seeing him for days at a time with the only notice from him being a couple million of won each morning for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. you often found yourself calling up your new friend and spending the money with him instead.

it was a simple business relationship with benefits, that’s what you told yourself because that was all it was to you. you didn’t love that man and you didn’t think he loved you, you loved his money and he loved your pretty face.

truthfully, his adoration for you was deeper than skin and ran to the bone, more intense than the burning rays of the sun. 

one second, you were having dinner with him during one of this few free night during this busy time, smiling and chatting about whatever all dolled up in a pretty purple silk dress and amethyst jewelry, the next, you woke up groggy atop a large king-sized bed with a cold metal handcuff wrapped around your wrist fastening you to the post. you blinked a few times slowly, trying to get your vision to focus as you unsuccessfully tried to tug yourself free. the room was unrecognizable to you, but it was clearly that of a home and not a hotel. the curtains were drawn shut and too far away for them to pull them apart, but even if you weren’t bound, you didn’t have it in you to move an inch. it was as if all the energy in you was zapped and replaced with a banging headache. you groaned softly at the dull pain, barely able to hear the door creak open followed by footsteps.

there was no need for an introduction nor a need for you to crane your head in the direction of the sound, you recognized him by his overwhelming presence alone and could read the stupid smirk on his face as if he’d won some sort of game you didn’t even know you were playing to begin with. all of the warning signs were blaring danger in your head, rather than ignoring it like you usually did, this time you were too weak to run away when it mattered most.

“ah, darling, you’re already awake? i thought the drug would have lasted a bit longer, but i can see that you’re resilient, as always. did you really think i wouldn’t notice that there was a new man in your life?”

“what… what the fuck are you talking about…?”

he stood next to you, making you feel so small compared to his towering height like a cornered mouse at the mercy of a cat, “i’m talking about that ex-marine, kang dae-ho.”

“... how did you..?”

“you aren’t very subtle, my dear. again, did you really think i didn’t know about it?” taking a step closer, he sat next to you on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight, and gently stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. “i must say, i’m rather displeased, but not surprised. that’s what happens when i don’t keep my eye on the prize at all times. thankfully, he won’t be bothering you anymore, i took care of him as i do with everything…”

“w-what… what did you do to him?!” your voice was finally raised above a whisper as you shot up from your spot, only to cringe in pain at the splitting sensation in your mind and lay back down, exhausted at the sudden exertion. 

he pouted at you childishly like he was disappointed you assumed he hurt him, or maybe he was disappointed you only now found the strength to panic when that boy’s safety was being compromised. “i didn’t do anything.” he was acting offended at the accusation like it wasn’t completely warranted after he drugged you and abducted you to god knows where. “i just played ddajki with him— maybe slapped him around a bit— nothing permanent. all that matters is that he’s out of the picture and you’re in my arms again, as it was always meant to be. do you have any idea how hurt i was to see you in the company of that boy? do you really think he could provide for you like i can? honestly, it hurt me so much to see you leaning on him like you’re a couple, especially at that movie theater— are our dates not enough?”

“you crazy ass motherfucker— so you were stalking me this entire time?!” you felt so pitiful and useless, wanting to curl up into a ball and wail about your predicament. he would get a pick out of seeing you suffer, you’re sure, so you tried your best to blink back the tears. “so you’ve been sick in the head this entire time? is that why you’re still single at your age? guess money and a handsome face isn’t enough when you’re a fucking psychopath!”

if it was anyone else on this earth, he would have slapped them so hard their face would swell and they could taste blood in their mouth for the disrespect, but since it was you, he was willing to brush it off as bratty behavior like a baby kitten biting at his fingers. 

“why did it have to be me?” you voice cracked, “you could have anyone you want: models, actresses, daughters of billionaires— why do you want some stupid college student who barely knows what she’s doing with her life?”

he didn’t answer you, choosing to remain silent rather than tell the truth or a lie. there’s nothing to say if he doesn’t even know the answer himself. “just get some rest, my love, i’ll be back with food in an hour.” 

and with that he left, ignoring you trying to kick and scream for your freedom. he didn’t know why he had grown so fond of you where he felt it was necessary to drug and kidnap you, but it would have ended up this way regardless of whether or not he first approached you with his proposition. if he didn’t approach you, he would have been stalking you from the shadows until he couldn’t take it anymore. he was never a patient man, but he was never someone who formed such intense attachments either. 

you were different from anyone he’s ever encountered before, even if neither of you knew the reason why. your company and affection was like a drug that gave him a high he’s never experienced before, like he was struck in the heart with cupid’s arrow and filled with ecstasy with every thought, but it wasn’t enough. it would never be enough with the way things were going, but now that he’s keeping you locked away like a beautiful butterfly in a silver cage for his eyes only, he feels the edge being taken off knowing that you were where you belonged and kang dae-ho was waking up on a mysterious island. love is really something special, isn’t it?

request from anon

sugar baby reader x the salesman but lowkey (or highkey LMAO) YANDERE DARK pretty pleaaasee 

[carnalcrows]

NO WAY OUT – THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x bottom male reader

synopsis: Trapped in a nightmare disguised as a quiet town, you make a desperate deal with the devil in a suit.

content warnings: 18+, dubcon (borderline noncon), gore, death, coercion, spit used as lube, painful penetration, a gun. dead dove do not eat

word count: 1.8k

The town had been quiet. Too quiet.

You had arrived with a small group, dumped in this unfamiliar countryside village with little explanation beyond the cryptic instructions: Survive until dawn, and you will be rewarded.

There was no mention of what you were meant to be surviving. No clarification on who, or what, might be out there.

It looked real enough—a cluster of rustic houses, a few scattered street vendors, a convenience store at the corner, and a small diner where an old radio crackled with static-laced music. There were people, too. Locals, you assumed, tending to their shops, walking lazily down the street, chatting as they leaned against their bikes.

And yet… something was off.

The air felt too still, like the town itself was watching. The people—while convincingly real—had a strange, rehearsed quality to them, like actors in a poorly directed play. A woman behind the fruit stall smiled at you, but her expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. A man sitting on a bench flipped through a newspaper, but his gaze never actually moved across the page.

You weren’t the only one who felt it.

“This is weird, right?” one of the others muttered beside you.

You nodded, keeping your voice low. “Yeah. I don’t like it.”

“Where even are we?”

No one had an answer.

Then, the first shot rang out.

A loud, piercing crack split the air, echoing between the buildings.

You barely had time to process it before a man in the center of the street jerked violently—his chest erupting in a burst of blood. He staggered backward, mouth opening in shock, hands clawing at the gaping wound before his legs gave out beneath him. His body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

For a moment, no one moved.

The woman at the fruit stall blinked at the corpse as if unsure how to react. The man with the newspaper lowered it, his lips twitching downward in something almost like annoyance.

Then the second shot rang out.

A woman’s head snapped back, a spray of red painting the shop window behind her. Her body crumpled.

Panic detonated.

Screams tore through the air. The "locals" abandoned their pretense of normalcy, scattering into nearby buildings, locking doors behind them. The other participants—actual people—bolted in every direction, sprinting for cover, shoving past each other in blind terror.

You ran.

Your breath burned in your lungs as you tore down the street, dodging past fallen bodies, slipping in their blood. You barely registered the faces around you—people who, just moments ago, had been joking nervously about what the challenge might be. People who were now dead or dying.

Someone tripped in front of you, hitting the pavement hard. They barely had time to push themselves up before another crack split the air—blood spattered across your face. Their body slumped forward, unmoving.

You kept running.

The town was a trap. The entire thing had been staged—a perfectly crafted illusion of safety, meant to lull you into a false sense of security before the real game began.

And now, the hunt was on.

You skidded around a corner, chest heaving. The bullets weren’t stopping. The laughter—the laughter—of your unseen pursuers echoed between the buildings. This wasn’t just a game to them.

It was fun.

Your stomach twisted violently. You had to hide.

The convenience store was the first thing you saw.

You ducked inside, slamming into the nearest shelf, sending a few snack bags tumbling to the floor. The store looked untouched. Too normal. The flickering lights, the neatly stocked shelves—it all felt like a cruel joke.

You pressed yourself into the corner, crouching low. Your hands were shaking. Your breath came too fast, too loud. If they found you—if they saw you—

The bell above the door jingled.

You went rigid.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate.

And then—

"You shouldn't be out here alone."

Your blood turned to ice.

The voice was smooth, velvety—too calm for a situation like this.

Your breath caught in your throat as you turned, pressing your back harder against the shelves. He stood just a few feet away, partially silhouetted by the convenience store’s flickering fluorescent lights. His suit was crisp, clean—untouched by the chaos outside. He looked completely at ease, like he’d just stepped in for a late-night snack instead of stalking a blood-soaked battlefield.

Your gut twisted.

He wasn’t one of you.

"You… you have to help me," you forced out, even as your voice wavered.

His expression didn’t change. "Help you?"

Your chest heaved. "They’re killing people out there—I don’t know what’s going on, but we have to get out of here before—"

He took a step closer.

You froze.

Something was wrong.

His gaze dragged over you, slow and measured, like he was considering something. You swallowed hard. He hadn’t looked surprised when you mentioned the killings. He hadn’t asked what was happening. He hadn’t even looked concerned.

Then it hit you.

He already knew.

Your stomach dropped.

He was one of them.

Panic clawed its way up your throat. You tried to move, to run—

Too late.

He surged forward, faster than you could react. A hand slammed into the shelf beside your head, cutting off your escape. The other gripped your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His touch was deceptively light, almost gentle—but beneath it was an unspoken force that made your pulse hammer in terror.

"Now, now," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Where do you think you’re going?"

You shook.

He was playing with you. Toying with you.

Your survival instincts kicked in, overriding every other thought in your head. You grabbed onto his wrist, voice cracking with desperation. "Please—I’ll do anything—"

Something in his eyes gleamed.

Oh.

Oh, you’d just said the magic words.

The corners of his lips curled into a smile. It wasn’t reassuring—it was wrong, twisted by something dark and knowing. He leaned in, tilting his head like he was thinking about what to do with you. His thumb traced absently along your jaw, a touch too intimate for a situation dripping in blood and fear.

"Anything?" he echoed.

You felt sick.

Before you could take it back, before you could rethink—

He kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow.

It was hungry.

His lips crashed against yours, rough and possessive, as if tasting victory. His hand tightened on your jaw, angling you up to meet the force of it. The kiss was messy, feverish—sloppy. His tongue swiped against yours without hesitation, deepening the kiss with a level of control that made your knees weak.

Your mind was screaming.

This was wrong. So wrong.

And yet—your survival instinct told you to go with it.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit, gripping it like a lifeline. His breath was hot, uneven, and the way he moved was deliberate—like he was savoring this, drinking in every little shudder, every sharp inhale you made.

You didn’t want this.

But you wanted to live.

His grip on you was suffocating, his body caging yours against the shelf. You whimpered into the kiss—half from fear, half from the raw intensity of it. He devoured you, taking his time, making it clear who was in control.

And then, finally, he pulled back.

A strand of saliva still connected your lips.

His thumb ran over your bottom lip, almost affectionate, before he leaned down, his voice a breathy whisper against your ear.

"Good boy."

The realization hit you like a freight train.

You weren’t escaping this.

You had already been caught.

His hand trailed from your jaw to you neck– almost choking you as his other hand went to the hem of your pants, pulling them down with a swift tug.

Reality hit you, and you looked up at him– wide eyed. His hand left your neck

“Hey– maybe this isn't a good idea–”

You were silenced by a gun pressed to your throat.

“I don't think you're in the position to make demands here, hm?” He questioned, revelling in the way your eyes widened with fear.

He trailed the gun down from your neck to your boxers, pushing it down gently to reveal your erection.

“So you do enjoy this… And here I was thinking I was the bad person.”

You shuddered as he nudged your cock with his gun– you were fucking terrified.

The hand that wasn't holding the gun went to your lios6, parting them open.

“Suck.”

You merely obeyed, sucking on his digits until they were slick enough.

He removed them with a pop and suddenly turned you around, so that your back was facing him.

He must've put the gun aside, but a guy feeling told you that you shouldn't try to run.

He prodded a finger at your hole– making you gasp. This wasn't right, this–

You screamed as he pushed his finger through the tight ring of muscle, the pain being almost too much to bear.

Without concern, he pushed two more fingers in, making your back arch into him.

His other hand held you close, digits pushing in and out of you, squelches filling the air.

The pain was soon overcome by pleasure, and you found yourself moaning softly, eyes drooping.

“Please–” “Please what? Use your words.”

“Fuck me– god–”

You didn't even get to finish your sentence before he removed his fingers from your hole and replaced it with the head of his cock.

You whined at the sudden intrusion, feeling so, so full.

He pushed his entire length in, until the tip almost hit your prostrate, before pulling out to the head and slamming back in with full force.

Your back arched, a loud moan leaving your lips.

Both his hands steadied themselves on your waist, holding you upright as he fucked into you like an animal in heat.

This man must be really pent up.

Your hands held onto the nearest shelf, the packets on it nearly falling out due to the heavy movement.

He practically pushed you into the shelf, your face getting smushed into the ramen packets.

Without a care in the world, the man continued fucking you animalistically, using you for his own pleasure.

Suddenly, without warning, he came into your with a low groan, hiding his face into the crook of your neck as he painted your insides white.

He pulls out of you as you come undone, coating the food that (hopefully) no one was going to touch.

He got up and adjusted his suit, reaching for this gun as you slowly turned yourself around, arms shaking.

You felt your eyelids close before you heard the cock of the gun.

You looked up in shock to see the gun being pointed straight at you, the man looking completely nonchalant.

“But– you said you would let me go–”

“Well… I lied.”

The gun fires.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[wastedpanda]

The Salesman/The Recruiter NSFW Audio

MDNI 18+ ONLY

The Recruiter takes you to a party full of rich VIPs and game makers. You tease your boyfriend throughout the night and he doesn’t mind fucking you while all of his friends watch

LINK (cr: alot-of-axolotl)

[voxslays]

CLOSE TO YOU — THE SALESMAN

PART SEVEN — KIDNAPPED PAIRINGS: The Salesman (Gong Yoo) x Reader. WARNINGS: Mentions of kidnapping, Reader is mentioned to be a foreigner (not stated from where), not proofread.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

When you awoke, you were in a sterile black room. The only thing you could remember was running after the recruiter and being knocked out cold. Everything else was still a bit hazy.

You squint your eyes, trying to adjust to the dark room. It was small and square, somewhat reminiscent of a childhood bedroom in scale. There were a few contemporary black and white framed paintings lining the dark walls too. On the far left side was the bed you were just sleeping on, with dark gray sheets and a white duvet.

Next to the bed, a small black marble nightstand. It had two identical power outlets—which could possibly used to cut the power if worse came to worst—and a small lamp. Yet as you tried to get up from the bed and take a look around the room for a possible escape route, you felt a sharp jolt on your left arm. You turned to look at your arm, but to your horror, it was chained to the wall. Now you really were trapped.

You try to tug your arm out of the pair of handcuffs, but it’s no use. The handcuffs are much too tight for you to escape without missing a limb. Before you could ponder amputation, you heard the click of a door. You turned, to be met with Gong Yoo, and a masked pink soldier at his side. You frown. “What the hell did you do to me!?” You sneer violently. The recruiter simply blinked.

“Good morning.” He clears his throat, leaning over your trembling form. “You’ve been out for two days.” He smirks. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop your body from shaking, which only made Gong Yoo let out a slight chuckle at your struggle. “How do you like your new home?” You let out a bitter, fake laugh. “Excuse me?”

“Unfortunately, with the information I so willingly gave away earlier,” Gong Yoo pauses, giving you a moment to remember the game of Ddakji you had played two days ago. “It’s a risk to allow you near the public.” He smiles, gesturing to the handcuffs. “So you’ll stay here for a while.” What the hell? He couldn’t just leave you in here to rot. Actually, he could and probably would. You take a deep breath.

“You’re a monster.” You point rudely in his face with your right (and unchained) hand. “I know.” He smiles back down at you, slightly leaning over your chained form, boxing you in. “I guess I really am cut out for this, aren’t I?” He chuckles, slowly leaning away from the bed and walking towards the door. The pink guard, whom you had practically forgotten was in the room with you following closely behind.

You sigh as the door closes, leaving you in almost pitch black darkness. What had you gotten yourself into?

TAGLIST: @scuzmunkie @iloveinhodaeho @devilishdelirium @muchwita @ang3lgvts @beebeechaos @yru3xme @princeofkhaenri-ah

[carlosainzgf]

Hi i like to request a salesmen x platonic teenage daughter idea, the daughter could have a crush on one of the players maybe and salesmen goes full papa bear mode?

the salesmen might be a psychopath, a killer, an asshole but he was one hell of a father. he never said no to you- i mean how could he when you’re his whole world, his little baby- even tho you’re 17 you are still his little baby. in his eyes you hadn’t grown a day since you’ve been 5 years old.

he never kept his job hidden from you but never let you too close to it either, he didn’t want you to be like him some day. you were an angel, you always have been and you always will be.

he also always thought that no man would ever be good enough for you. whenever you had a crush on a boy he would find a way to scare them away from you. it hurt your ego as a young girl not being liked by boys but your dad thought it’s better to have a hurt ego than a broken heart.

you were sat on the big couch of your dad’s office as he filed up some information about the players he recruited today. you helped him with it reading some stuff outloud for him to type faster. he sometimes watched back the clips he took with a hidden camera to get a second look on the, soon to be, players.

“darling, would you mind getting your laptop so i can watch the clips of today?”

“of course!” as much as you weren’t a fond of the thought that most of those people in those clips would end up dead you still found it entertaining. i mean it runs in the family.

you helped him connect the camera to the laptop and set down with him to watch. a few faces- and a whole lot of slaps- later something caught your eye. someone, to be exact. “what’s this ones name, dad?” you tried to ask as subtly as possible. “lee myung gi. he had a youtube account on crypto money. he lost all his money and made his subscribers also lose theirs.” he sounded uninterested. i mean after all he was just a pathetic guy who needs money so desperately he’s willing to get slapped for it.

“what’s his youtube?” you, again, tried to ask subtly. “why are you asking, dear?” your dad wasn’t a dumb man- not even close- but he tried to see the best in you. his precious little girl whom can never have a boyfriend. he also wasn’t blind, he could see that myung gi was a handsome young man. “oh- no reason. just wondering.” wow, real subtle.

“he is a handsome young man. shame. he probably won’t survive in the games.” he said without hesitation before quickly skipping the parts that had myung gi’s face. he saw how you frowned when your dad said he wouldn’t survive. maybe he should kill the man himself, he tought to himself but he knew you wouldn’t forgive him if you were to find out.

while his mind wondered about all the things he could do to myung gi, you were busy looking for his youtube. which you were quick to find. MG Coin. you wanted to dm him, tell him to not join the games and save himself a lot of trouble but you couldn’t. so instead you decided to manipulate you dad into, somehow, make sure myung gi doesn’t get into the games.

“isn’t it sad seeing such young people getting into death games because they are in dept. i mean they are only a few years older than me. imagine if i were one of them, you would be devastated as a parent. maybe we could help the young ones, you know. we have the money for it after all.” real touching.

“there had always been young players, darling. you never seemed to mind it or care for them. why do you care all of a sudden.” yeah, he didn’t buy it. “i mean it’s their fault that they are in such miserable conditions. they are young they could work and have money, they have a whole future ahead of them yet they prefer playing ddakji and getting slapped to get money instead of working a real job.” he was too defensive with his words. like he had done no wrong in his life and those other people have committed all kinds of sins. they were directed to myung gi even tho he referred to him as ‘young players’. i guess manipulation is in the blood.

he would make sure to run into myung gi again just to slap him again. and he would also make sure to block all his accounts from your phone. he couldn’t bare the idea of a pathetic loser who was too dumb to invest in crypto money being by your side. he wasn’t good enough for you. no man was and no man could be enough for his dear daughter. maybe a kitten or a little puppy would distract you from men. yep that seemed like a good idea to him.

[skyrigel]

me: feels unloved *searches x reader tag*

[muntitled]

Tic-Tac-Toe

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: Every Wednesday your schedule consisted of attending classes during the day, and satisfying the needs of a sadist through the night.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Violence, Kidnapping, Isolation, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Gore, Stockholm Syndrome, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Insertion, Fingering, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Gunplay, Deepthroating, Breeding Kink, Unprotected sex

A/N: Hell is empty

4k Words

You're strapped in a chair, like always, and you are blindfolded because he doesn't trust easily.

It's terribly annoying.

At any point of during and after your little 'arrangement' you could have called the cops. Doesn't he understand that?

Every Wednesday, you're taken from the warmth of your apartment, and you're delivered right back at 00:00 on the dot, every Thursday with barely an inch of life left in your bones. You'd either always come back wet, with semen sliding between your thighs, or with mysterious marks- old and new- crawling underneath your sweater. Whatever mood he was in, he'd always leave you feeling sore.

It should have bothered you.

The thought of seeing this large, domineering shadow-in-a-suit every Wednesday should not overwhelm you with all these feelings of excitement. Instead, you should do like all the mentally ill girls do and just get some fucking help.

But you want him to trust you, for some reason.

Which was utterly ridiculous considering the fact that to him, you were something akin to a porcelain wind up toy for his amusement. You had no business requesting he remove the blindfold aspect but still, you asked anyway. Toy's couldn't be trusted, could they?

"I'd really appreciate it if I didn't have to wear one of these everytime I visit your place." He removes the blindfold, and in a second, your vision is filled with nothing but him. One moment you were in the cozy warmth of your dorm room. Curled up on the couch while your roommate spends her youth effectively- out with boyfriends and friends and everything you didn't have. You answered the front door when you heard his special knock, like you always do. You walked with him to the cab. You let him put on the blindfold. You said 'I'm fine’ when the taxi driver got a little too nosy and you let him lead you away from your boring life.

If only for a few hours.

You'd let him do whatever he wanted for those few hours because such surrender was almost sacred. You forfeited your safety in his hands, to do with it whatever he pleased and in that, you found rest. Whatever happens, happens.

Forget this room- what was essentially his personal dungeon, windowless, red and boasting various torture objects- your eyes are only on him.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't feel the need to kidnap me anymore? We do this every Wednesday," You become more childish around him and he lets you. Like you forgot you are a fully autonomous university student. There was power in that too. "Surely we've established some sort of trust?” He doesn't respond to you immediately. You crane your head up at him, hungry to lock eyes with his cold, empty slits that enchanted you body and soul.

You are in love with him, perhaps.

That's a logical response isn't it?

You laugh almost.

Listening to yourself try to rationalize your fondness for such a horrible man.

Said horrible man is silent. All you hear is the clicking of his dress shoes as he moves to the leather seat directly across from yours. Your eyes scan over all his movements.

The right corner of his lip quirks up. A small coffee table creates the only distance between you and he bends over to pour you both a generous glass of Brandy on the rocks. You don't drink it. Ever since he's been bringing you here, you never do. He knows this, yet still he pours.

"This relationship isn't about trust." He says finally. Something inside you, that is perhaps a little broken, actually purrs at the sound of his voice. You're hyperaware of your thighs squeezing together on the leather seat. They're spilling out of the sundress you purposely wore today.

Lots of your clothes were for the function of comfort. Your body was full and curvy and not always something to be advertised, unless you wished it to. Tonight, you wanted to show off as much as possible.

A thick leather band is keeping both your wrists locked to the armrests, while he sits back, free and so irrevocably in charge it should scare you. It should. But the sick and incredibly deranged thing is that it doesn't.

Outside, the rain is beating down on whatever building you're in, casting a thick veneer of grey all across the city.

But inside this velvet room... your heart is hammering inside its cage as you watch him undo the buttons of his crisp suit. A black one today. Jet black like his hair.

Although-

"You've got more grey in your hair than last week." You can't help but say.

He tilts his head in inquisition. "Are you insulting me or complimenting me?"

"I'll leave that up to you to decide," you shrug your shoulders as much as you can under these limited restraints. At least he hasn't restrained your ankles this time. Progress. "In here, you're the boss. Right?"

He takes a sip of his drink until finally, you've finally locked eyes. Your bare toes curl and your back arches slightly as you sit a bit straighter in your seat. Like you're in a lecture hall, although he is far more interesting than any of your professors.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," he finally says as he takes one more sip of his drink before bringing his briefcase onto the coffee table. Its presence is ominous and so horribly loud for an inanimate object. It kickstarts all your dormant nerves, revving up all the rest of your senses that have yet to catch up to the fact that you were facing the man of both your desires and nightmares once again.

"Who have you told about our arrangement?" The question causes you to roll your eyes. He watches the petulant movement with that same, silent smile and blank eyes. He unclicks the briefcase. Your stomach lurches and your thighs squeeze together. Pavlov's dog.

"Every time you ask me-" an object clinks onto the table. A butcher knife.

You try to pull your eyes away from the objects he's placing on the table, one by one. "Everytime you ask me if I've told anyone about our arrangement-" another object. A wooden spoon beside the knife. "Everytime I tell you the same thing."

Your throat closes when he uncovers a dildo. Bright pink and fucking menacing. "Carry on talking." He says, snapping your gaze away from the objects lining the table.

"I don't have any friends." Your voice is wobblier. You try to deny the sight of the rabbit vibrator, "It's the reason you picked me." You clear your throat as you hoped to clear all the nerves beginning to fog your mind. "Someone could've followed me here. B-But I don't really know anyone enough to care." The final object that clunks onto the glass coffee table and this time, you're unable to look away.

"Are we ready to begin?"

The metal revolver laying quiet and undisturbed beside the rabbit vibrator makes everything else on the table look like children's toys. Even the butcher knife.

You pull at the restraints, your legs quivering slightly as you shift and writhe in the seat. He studies you as closely as you were once studying him. You can see the excitement begin to flood his eyes at the physical manifestation of your discomfort.

"Now you're getting it." He nods sardonically, taking another sip from his glass before placing the briefcase on the floor beside him. "You were a little too happy to see me," he joked, letting out an airy exhale of laughter.

"You wanna hazard a guess as to what we'll be playing today?" He's smiling, genuinely. With that look in his eyes you can tell he's hovering in the clouds. Meanwhile you've begun to feel real fear. No matter how regular these visits might become you'd never get used to him. It's impossible. Not when he found new and daring ways to torture and pleasure you every single week. You couldn't get used to something as brash and unconventional as him. Like the conditions of a child in a broken home, he kept his tactics inconsistent so that every week is a new hell or perhaps- depending on his mood- heaven.

"If I guess wrong?" You swallow thickly and something dark in him settles. He spreads his legs more, there's a twitch inside his lips before he smiles again.

"Well, guessing isn't the game, so you'll be fine."

You nod your head... assessing the objects. There's menacing objects and household objects. Even just looking at them you can tell what they all have in common.

"Am I going to have to insert-"

"You're not guessing." His voice booms. He rests his elbow on the armrests, his hands corded with veins seem itching to do something, you're not sure what. "I said guess." He commands.

"Hide and seek?"

He snickers, "A favourite-"

"More like your favourite." You snip back, "I couldn't sit down the whole week." You frown at the memory. That week he'd brought you to an abandoned warehouse, letting you run the entire perimeter full.

"It's in your best interest to keep coming to our sessions-" he reminds you, snapping you back into the present.

"You're paying my university fees, I'm not complaining." You nod, before plastering a thin smile on your face, "All I have to do every week is prostitute myself to a literal sadist-"

"Have you given up on guessing today's game?" He didn't like you making him hyper aware of the fact that this dynamic, whatever it is, is considered objectively bad. And so you're not surprised when he swiftly moves past the topic.

He leans forward. His large hand disappears under his chair before uncovering a small whiteboard. Four lines- 2 horizontals are running across 2 verticals, creating 9 blocks. He stands up, while your eye is still focusing on the board. From your point of view it sits underneath the row of objects on the table. You don't even realize your right wrist strap is being untied.

"Colour?" He asks, pushing a crate of whiteboard markers towards you. With your now free hand you pick the pink one.

He snickers. "Predictable." He whispers before placing a large, domineering hand on your head. He presses down your braids, patting you like a stray he's rescued from the cold. You stare aimlessly ahead, fearing you won't be able to contain everything you've begun to feel for him if you lock eyes now.

"We're playing tic-tac-toe," he relents. His hand lingers on your head a bit longer before he's stepping away.

"With a twist, I presume?"

"Clever girl," he nods, walking back to his seat. "So you're aware of the objects."

"Place a gun in front of a girl and she's going to notice."

"Paranoid girl." He tsks before leaning forward.

"You want to start or should I?"

"Wait-" you swallow, "What happens if I win?"

He smiles that dazzling, debonair smile.

"You pick which one goes inside you."

Lightning cracks across the sky. A chorus of thunder roars all at once like some kind of phenomenon and your lips stutter open.

"Th-That's insane I-"

"I shouldn't have to remind you that you came here out of your own volition. "

"What happens if you win?"

"Then I choose." He says.

Your eyes skate over the object. It doesn't take an ivy league graduate to hazard a guess as to which of the objects he's itching to stick inside you.

"There's a fucking knife here-" You're trembling. Tears are pooling in your eyes. It doesn't even matter that you're a somewhat decent tic tac toe player. It doesn't matter that you're confident in this game. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

"And there's also a spoon," he nods, neutrally, "And a vibrator, and a dildo. Etcetera. Etcetera." He leans forward, unclicking his whiteboard pen, "your words are just words, Darling. You're just listing things. Start," he says, with a deadly lilt in his voice. "Or I will."

You scramble to uncap your marker with one hand, all while he watches with dead and black eyes. You knew that whoever starts the game was placed at a big advantage and so you're nearly scrambling to place that dignified X in the center block.

"Clever girl." He says once again, drawing his blue 'O' directly beside your pink 'X'. You aim for the block above him. He blocks it. You aim for the block beside the center. He blocks that too.

Your victory comes too quickly. You barely feel it as you strike a line vertically through the blocks. 3 X's.

Relief washes over you but it's overcast with doubt. Like you're celebrating in trepidation as you watch him stand up.

"Congratulations! Which do you choose?"

"I can pick anything?" You ask, staring up at him, bright eyes wild with the adrenaline that comes with wanting to preserve your organs.

"Anything you want, my little winner."

You begin to lean over. His eyebrows quirk up when you wrap a small hand around his wrist.

"I pick that." You say breathlessly. Your eyes zeroed in on his hands at his side. And you watch as he walks towards you, as if compelled by an unforeseen force. His palms are calloused underneath yours and you blow out several unstable breaths as he stands above you. So imposing it's breathtaking.

"You sure?" It's the way he asks it that has you second guessing. And perhaps he sees the caution seeping into your eyes because there's excitement lurking in his. Before you're even able to formulate a response, his hand is locked tightly around your esophagus, vacuuming all pathways shut until you're writhing for air.

"A fine, fine choice," He's becoming more and more riled up the more you writhe in your seat, trying to scrounge for a single breath of air. He doesn't let you. Instead he moves behind you, before leaning down.

If you could breathe, you would shiver at the feeling of his lips behind your ear. "Here we go-" he whispers, before reaching around your torso with his free hand before forcing your legs open. The second he lets his three digits stab into your cunt, he uncurls the grip on your throat as you make a horrid sound somewhere between a moan, a scream, and a haggard gasp. "FUCK- Sl-Slowdown-" you knew better than to request something like that. All you hear is a snicker from behind you as pain blossoms all across your nether regions. He's not gentle. He's not kind. He doesn't allow you to adjust to his fingers before he's scissoring them inside you, causing a blood-curdling scream to rip itself out of your throat. Your back is arched and you're trying to get away from him but the fucking persists.

"You've been wet like this for me the entire time?" He sounds absolutely demented, behind you, "You wanted this didn't you?" He bites at your ear as the first tears begin to pool at your eyes, "My little winner."

"P-Please stop-" His fingers are restless inside you. Curling and uncurling. Scissoring and stabbing as if wanting to open you up and split you all the way in half.

"What a pretty little pussy, huh? Look at what a mess you're making."

"When-" you can't form words. "When- Stop?" It's all you're able to say as your nails dig into the material of his suit.

"The sooner you cum the sooner it stops."

You doubted your ability to cum under these circumstances. He's setting an ungodly pace and it's all so hurried and in a frenzy, it's like your brain does not have time to understand if you even like what's currently being done to you.

"What- Do you want you want my help?" you begin to shake your head. "I'll help you, baby-"

His other hand reaches over and pinches your clit.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm is quite literally forced out of you. Your hips writhe and your ass tries to leave the seat as the first feelings of pleasure rip through you by force. "That's it, Clever girl," he coos, still curling his fingers inside you, "That's my Clever girl." He says once more before stilling his movements. For a second you just sit there, trying to collect your breath while he's still inside you. All at once, his hands are removed from your body.

He grabs a handkerchief from his breast pocket and you watch him clinically wipe his hands before erasing the marks on the board with the same cloth. A very clear boner pushes against his black slacks yet still his face is calm.

"Alright, My turn to start-"

"WHAT!? B-But I won." You scream, absolutely seething with desperation.

"You know everyone who plays 'X' has a significantly higher chance at winning-" You say with your eyes narrowed. He nods.

"And you know that too, which means we each should be granted alternating times to play ‘X’. Regardless if you won or not." You slump in your seat, suddenly far too aware that your bare cunt is exposed.

"Don't mope." He says, "It's not cute." Before drawing his 'X' in the center.

You close your legs, sitting upright with a new zeal of self preservation as you grab ahold of your marker.

You draw your pink 'O' underneath his.

You both play many more rounds. All ending in ties. This is how you play- with a frazzled grip and closed legs. A shiver every now and then overcomes you with the gravity of your aftershocks. His snickers bring your eyes up to his. He speaks as he makes his move.

"You're so focused on blocking," he sighs, "You're not even trying to win anymore-"

"I'm not letting you stick a knife in my cunt." You nod in finality before blocking another move.

"Not even if I say please?" He asks, making a faux pout.

"Fuck off."

"In that case, I have to win."

Your heart kickstarts as he pushes his pen to the board. Images flash across your mind. Blood splattered across his gorgeous face. Your blood as he fucks the sharp end of a knife inside you. You nearly vomit while he speaks. “Easy as-" you block him.

"Tic-" you block him again.

"Tac-" you block him some more

"Toe- I Win."

A victory that somehow escaped your vision. He strikes a line diagonally through the squares and your stomach sinks. He stares at you from across the room. His eyes so deeply satisfied you can feel it radiating off of him in waves.

You lower your teeth to the other restraint, violently trying to free your left wrist from its oppressive hold. And you watch as the devil slowly rises.

Your heart aches. Your brain is sent into complete alarm as your flight or fight kicks in and your sympathetic nervous system fires.

"Now, which one would look pretty inside you?" He drags his fingers along the objects, undoubtedly an act of taunting. You stomp your feet on the ground. You try to push the chair underneath you but it's plastered to the floor.

"Please!" Tears are running thickly. They cloud your vision. You don't even see the way his smile falls enough for him to rub over the bulge in his slacks.

"Fuck," he says gravelly as he relents and picks up the gun. "You're so fucking pretty when you're scared out of your fucking mind. You know that?"

You shake your head as he nears, wondering if this might really be the end. Has your body become too worn out by his games? Has the time for him to discard his toy finally dawned on you both? Is he all grown up with no need for such things as toys?

"PLEASE-NO-"

"Open your mouth." He's standing in front of you, your head directly in front of his raging bulge.

You shake your head, trying to move away but he rips your face towards him. "Listening to me is the only choice you have to make it out alive, Baby. You wanna live, don't you?" He's nothing but a tall figure, with the overhead lights shining around his head like a halo. Your face right by his bulge.

"Little girl needs to go to school." He nods, eyes fluttering shut, "She needs to complete her studies and get a good job so she wouldn't have to meet with scary men like me- Fuck-" it riled him up to no end to have you scared of him. You suppose it triggered a part of him that craved attention. He needed to feel like he existed and if that was reeped from fear then so be it.

"Stick the barrel in your mouth," the bottom of his hand coaxed open your jaw, and, as if on autopilot, you listen. Perhaps there is a way out of this. Perhaps you should just listen.

"That's it... Fuck," he brings your free hand up to rub his erection "That's it, Baby, stick it inside your mouth." Cold metal hits your lower teeth, "Stick it in like you would a cock." He says, looking down at you intently as your tongue unfurls and you suck the barrel in. "Shit-" he places his other hand on the back of your head before forcing you to take the gun deeper down your throat. He's trembling. Far too badly. And so is his finger on the trigger.

"Fuck, you're such a fucking whore, you know that?"

You're gagging and flailing around the barrel, saliva slides down.

So desperate to please him.

In your hast you don't even realize your left hand that had been restrained is now free. Your eyes are closed.

Please him.

Just please him and you'll live.

"That's my brainless girl..." he praises and that rouses something in you. It has your hips bucking against nothing.

"Such a stupid girl..." he continues, "You're gonna ride me, aren't you? You're gonna fuck me so good-" You're not about to tell him that sex wasn't supposed to be apart of this game. You're not stupid.

You faintly hear the sound of a belt unlooping. A zipper siding down. "You're making me so happy, baby." He admits before effortlessly lifting you from the chair until you're straddling him.

You're free.

When did that happen?

"F-Fuck, I need you to ride me." His head is leaning back against the chair. His tie hangs messily from his shirt that has two buttons undone.

You're free.

"Don't try anything," he warns, as he lifts you enough to pull his cock out of his pants. "Matter of fact. Keep it in your mouth while you ride me-" He slams you down onto his cock the very second those words leave his mouth. He's fucking into you with recklessness and fury and violence. His hair falls in his face but the gun is too heavy, without a hand there, it nearly slips from your mouth.

He's careful to catch it, forcing the barrel back in your mouth as he places a hand on your ass, controlling how your ass bounces on his lap. The gun offers motivation like no other. It has you arching your back and swirling your hips as you tighten your cunt around him.

He sticks the gun down too far and you gag. "You trying to get me to cum, huh? You little slut-" you nod, the tears still spilling as pleasure begins to stream through your brain. It has you excited by the prospect of being held at gunpoint. You realize with grave certainty that you've arrived at the point of no return.

"What a good girl- fuck-" he's ramming up into you, his hand on the gun twitching like his cock does. "I'm gonna fucking cum- FUCK-" he does and your orgasm immediately barrels into you at the exact same time. You try to ride him, to milk it as much as you can, to continue to make him happy.

"Such a stupid fucking slut-" he whispers, eyes hooded as his hips still spurt cum into you.

Your ears perk. You see his finger on the trigger move. You squeeze your eyes shut as you hear a click.

"Such a silly girl." You hear him say. "Don't worry, Baby, it isn't loaded." You're still in your body. You're still alive, on his lap, your sundress unfurling around you both.

"Not yet anyway."

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[miihho]

Can you please write the salesman next for the kind of guy?🙏🏻🙏🏻

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) nsfw

The Salesman

— HES THE KIND OF GUY who never expected to fall in love—his life was far too consumed by duties and endless responsibilities. Love wasn’t even a consideration, not until you appeared like a sudden burst of color in his monochrome world. At first, it was your skill that caught his attention, the way you effortlessly bested him in ddakji, round after round, slap after slap. Frustrated but undeniably impressed, he handed you a card, feigning indifference. But as you walked away, something unfamiliar stirred within him—a quiet ache, a sense of loss he couldn’t quite place.

He tried to push it aside, burying himself in his work, recruiting others, and maintaining the facade of control. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. Then, one day, he saw you again, sitting at your usual spot. You hadn’t joined the game, and strangely, he felt a wave of relief he couldn’t explain. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of you, asking for just one more match. The words came out almost on their own, a fragile excuse to see you again, to hear your voice, or maybe just to keep you close for a little longer.

— He’s the kind of guy who’s spent years trapped in a monotonous cycle—lonely, unfulfilled, and carrying the weight of a life that feels directionless. Every day bleeds into the next, nothing to look forward to, nothing to hold onto. But then, somehow, he acquires you. You, with your rare kindness, your quiet care, and the sweetness that seems to radiate from your every action.

You don’t even realize what you’ve done to him, how you’ve unknowingly become the one bright spot in his otherwise dull world. He starts catching himself stealing glances at you, his gaze softening without his permission. It’s the way you move, the way you speak, the way you bring life into spaces that once felt empty.

And then there are those moments—when you laugh, or when you smile at something simple—that makes his chest tighten in ways he didn’t think were possible anymore. He smiles back without realizing it, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that feels foreign but good. You don’t just make his days better; you make him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s still something worth living for. (He's in love)

—He’s the kind of guy who would boldly approach you, his intentions clear but unspoken. He’d ask to get to know you better, his flirting subtle at first—smiles that linger a little too long, looks that make your heart race without explanation. At first, you might be taken aback, unsure of his advances, but when he offers you something you can’t refuse, like money, your resistance crumbles. You agreed, but something in the way he looks at you makes you forget about the deal. Slowly, you start enjoying your time together more than you care to admit.

—He’s also the kind of guy who wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, not for a second. If anyone dared to claim you as theirs, especially some trash asking you out, he’d make sure they paid. He’d go to any lengths to protect what’s his, with no hesitation, no mercy. If it came to it, he wouldn’t think twice about making them disappear, just so they’d know—he was the first one, and that meant something.

But it’s not just about possessiveness. He watches over you, guards you in ways you’ll never fully see, keeping a close eye without you ever knowing. He’s always there, even when you don’t realize it—protecting you from this world that’s full of danger, keeping the darkness at bay as best as he can. It’s his silent promise to you, even if you never ask for it. He doesn’t want to see you hurt, not ever.

— He's the kind of guy who would soil his hands with blood, not hesitating for a second, if it meant protecting you from anything that threatens your peace.

— He’s the kind of guy who will make you fall for him as deeply as he’s fallen for you. He adores your smaller build against his, the way your petite hands fit perfectly when cuffed by his larger ones—it drives him wild. The contrast, the way you seem so delicate in his grasp, makes him want to claim you entirely, to make you his in every way.

But he’s not the kind of man to stop at mere affection. No, he’s the type who thrives on control. He’ll manipulate you carefully, subtly, until the thought of leaving him feels impossible—terrifying even. He wants you to need him, crave him, think of him endlessly. He’s meticulous in the way he weaves himself into your thoughts, ensuring you wake up and fall asleep with only him in mind.

And when he flirts with you, watching as your cheeks turn that irresistible shade of red, your voice faltering under his gaze—it’s everything to him. You turn into a hot, blushing mess, and he loves it. It fuels his obsession, makes him fall even harder for you, because to him, you’re the epitome of perfection. Cute, vulnerable, and entirely his.

—He’s the kind of guy who takes his time with you, the tension between you building like a carefully orchestrated symphony. When the moment feels just right—your faces close, the air thick with anticipation—he starts leaning in, his eyes locked on yours, ready to steal a kiss.

But then it hits you, the realization of what’s happening, and your face flushes a deep red. You turn away in a rush, looking anywhere but at him, your heart racing like crazy. He pauses, letting the moment linger, before chuckling softly. That low, amused laugh of his sends a shiver down your spine, and when you finally sneak a glance at him, he’s grinning.

“Cute,” he murmurs, his tone playful but laced with something deeper. Yeah, he loves teasing you—loves watching you squirm and stutter, loves the way your reactions only make you more endearing to him. And he’ll do it all over again, just to see that flustered look on your face that he can’t get enough of.

—He’s also the kind of guy who knows exactly how to manipulate you, slow and calculated, planting seeds of dependence and trust without you fully realizing it. He knows your vulnerabilities, your habits, and where to find you when you’re at your lowest.

So, when he spots you crying at your usual secluded spot, alone and trembling, he makes his move. Sitting beside you, his presence feels warm, comforting—like he’s the only safe harbor in a storm. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, his voice soft and soothing as he whispers, “There, there, it’ll be alright. I’m here.”

As you cry into his chest, he murmurs gentle reassurances, “It’s alright, baby. Cry it all out.” His hand strokes your back, his touch deliberate and grounding, and he smiles. Not the kind of smile you can see—this one is hidden, smug, satisfied. His plan is working perfectly, and you’re falling deeper into his web. And oh, how he loves it—watching you lean into him, needing him, trusting him like he’s your savior. That’s exactly where he wants you.

— He’s the kind of guy who thrives on control, especially in moments of intimacy. The kind who, with practiced ease, unclips your bra with just one hand, never breaking the intensity of your kiss. And when he pulls back, his lips hovering just above yours, he’ll smirk and whisper in that low, teasing voice, “I’m not done with you yet.”

When you bury your face into his neck, trying to stifle your moans out of shyness, he doesn’t miss a beat. The scent of his cologne and aftershave lingers, intoxicating you further, as he lets out a deep chuckle, amused at your attempt to hide.

And when he’s got you pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy, he makes sure you’re not holding back. He loves to hear you scream, loves the way his name falls from your lips like a prayer. Even when a phone call interrupts, he doesn’t stop. Oh no, he sees it as a challenge, a chance to tease you further. He’ll move slower, deeper, just to hear your breath hitch as you struggle to keep your composure.

If you try to stay professional, biting your lip to muffle the sounds threatening to escape, he’ll smirk, his pace relentless. “Go on,” he’ll purr, his voice dripping with mischief. “Try to keep quiet, baby. Let’s see how long you last.” And with that, he’ll have you unraveling, barely able to focus, completely at his mercy.

— He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just tease you with words—he lets his actions speak louder. Even in public, fully clothed, he’ll find a way to make you lose your composure. He steps in close, his large hands resting on your waist, pulling you just enough that his hips press against yours.

That’s when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness straining against his pants, pressing firmly into you. His voice drops, low and dripping with desire, as he leans into your ear and whispers, “Feel that, baby? That’s what you do to me. You’ve got me all worked up, and I don't think I can wait any much longer."

The heat of his breath against your ear sends a shiver through you, and his bulge pressing into you makes it impossible to think straight. His grip tightens slightly, and the smirk playing on his lips tells you he’s enjoying every second of your reaction. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he loves driving you wild, even when you’re supposed to be keeping things composed.

— He's the kind of guy who leaves his mark on you, a silent declaration that you're his and his alone

— He's the kind of guy who would pin you against the wall, bite your lip, and pull your hair—taking control in a way that leaves you breathles.

—He’s the kind of guy who’ll leave you completely undone, your body trembling as you take every inch of his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks while you beg for mercy. But he doesn’t stop—he thrives on the way you break beneath him, his voice dripping with a wicked mix of praise and degradation.

“You're being such an obedient little cum slut,” his hand tilting your chin so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. “Taking me so well like a fucking whore, like you were made for my cock. My perfect little bitch.” he said, his tone low and velvety, sending shivers down your spine as he continued to fuck his cock in and out of you. Your walls clenching hard around his massive cock as he fills you up with his fat load, still pounding into your hole not letting even a single drop of his release go to waste. (He has a breeding kink)

And if that's not enough. His thick, veiny cock would plunge relentlessly into your dripping folds, the sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh filling the air. Each powerful thrust drives him deeper, his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he ravages your insides with unbridled lust while you're in a mating press. He is determined to make you the mother of his child, so he will pound your fertile womb over and over again until it's full of his cum. If his cum is seeping out of your pussy, he would pump it back with his fingers inside while he also plays with your swollen clit making you overstimulated as you beg him to stop. (he just fucking loves you crying and begging for him and only him. )

— Hes the kind of guy who craves more than just conception; he yearns to enslave your senses, to make your body crave the feeling of being utterly filled by him. He wants ypu to beg for his cock, to plead for the intense pleasure-pain of being stuffed to overflowing, regardless of your reproductive cycle.

The very thought of you, round and ripe with his seed, brings him unparalleled satisfaction. He delights in the idea of your addiction to his cum, to the exquisite bliss of having your cunt packed to capacity with his thick, hot essence. For him, there is no greater joy than knowing you're forever changed, forever his, your body and soul irreversibly marked by his possession.

[murderofravens]

DUSK TILL DAWN

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader.

part: 1/3 [finished]

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, inho is in his late 40s) slowburn. oral fixation. thigh riding. plot with porn. yearning. sexual tension. canon compliant. slight infantilization. no y/n used.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 6.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore any mistakes.

as you wipe the blood from your face, the reality of your situation sets in. you never thought you'd get used to the smell of blood— much less the sight of it. or the texture. and now you're covered in it. the white of your uniform splattered with crimson, the metallic smell of it almost overwhelming. in a situation like the one you're in, you can only laugh. the mere sight of blood used to make you feel faint; make you want to throw up because you're squeamish. now you're covered in it from head to toe.

it's not yours. it's of the people they shot dead during the second game.

you barely remember how you made it out alive. the second one was all thanks to your team— thanos and nam-gyu were the closest to your age, and teaming up with them worked in your favour. your age and gender was a liability to the others, but they were kind enough to take you in. or perhaps they were thinking with their dicks. would it really matter either way?

but with the way they act, you're not sure if you want to continue being in a team with them. especially since thanos keeps trying to woo you with his poor rapping skills. they're way too loud and reckless for you, and you're scared they might get you killed. they're not willing to give up the game anytime soon, either.

then there's the first game— you're alive, because of 456. that crazy man who supposedly had played the games before. if it wasn't for him pulling you behind his back, you would've left the premises in a cardboard box. especially because you fucking sneezed as soon as the doll turned back.

since then, you've decided you don't want to play this game anymore. 456 has been desperately trying to change the other's mind— but they're greedy and insistent. you pressed the cross for his sake, and for the others, and for yourself. hell, you can live in debt, but what use is that money if you die trying? you're not that much of a hard worker. you value your life above anything else.

you walk over to their team— 456, and his two loud team members. another man is sitting there— player 001. the one who ruined your chance of going home on the first vote. he seems ordinary, but you know of him because you saw him beat the shit out of thanos. that was another reason you decided to abandon that team— you could not be seen with a bully, or a loser. as you approach him, you give him a slight nod of acknowledgement, which he returns. you turn your attention to 456, and thank him profusely for what he did for you. he's kind, you'll give him that. you like kind people.

"if you don't mind me asking—" a voice interrupts, and you look over your shoulder. it's player 001. he looks at you curiously. "how old are you?"

"old enough." you retort cheekily. he doesn't look amused as he cocks his head to the side.

"i'm curious as to why a little kid like you would compromise herself for money."

that shuts you up. you're offended, to say the least. who is he to call you a little kid? the entire team also looks on, seemingly baffled. the question makes sense. you're sure you're the youngest out of all players. and people can tell because you look it too. you don't really know how to respond, so you just look on with a frown, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"forgive me—" he lets out an awkward chuckle, "i didn't mean it the wrong way. i'm just worried."

you give him an uneasy smile, rubbing the back of your neck. the others go back to their conversations, and you shrug. he shoots a glance towards gi-hun before sitting back down and shifting slightly, as if making room for you. you take a seat beside him. there's silence before he glances at the symbol on your jacket— the cross.

"i'm sorry." he says with a small smile, looking straight ahead, "you wanted to go home but you had to continue because of me. i put a kid in danger."

"i'm not a kid," you huff softly, straightening up, "i'm twenty. but yeah, you should be sorry."

you give him a small smile to ensure he knows that the last line is lighthearted. he seems to understand and returns it.

"dont worry about it," you sigh, fiddling with the zip of your jacket, "im sure you had your reasons. just like i have mine for coming here."

"and your parents?" he asks. he's so polite, it warms your heart. polite and soft spoken. and visibly tough. probably some officer, you think, judging by his skills you previously saw.

"that's what i need the money for." you sigh, leaning back against the bunker. "i need enough money to establish myself. continue my studies. bring my mom and my sister to come live with me. settle off my father's debts because he's a coward who decided to pass down his sins onto his daughter."

he raises his eyebrows, and you take a sharp breath. there's a moment of silence between you two— you think for a moment, and feel your eyes get slightly glassy. you're not going to cry in front of a stranger. you put on a brave face. "if i die here, my mother—"

he stares at you silently, before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, interrupting your cursed sentence. "you'll make it out alive."

the doors open, and the staff comes in again. they reveal the number of players left, showcase the money that each person would get, and then the voting starts again.

this time, player 001 doesn't disappoint you. he goes first, and clicks on the cross. the hope it gives you eventually shatters as more and more players begin to vote in favour of continuing the game. you see 456 get increasingly agitated as he begins to make his way towards the front of the crowd. before he can speak, he's interrupted.

001's voice rings out loud and authoritative, and worried. he reprimands the voters in favour, calls them out on their selfishness.

"we'll all die if we keep playing!" he chastises the crowd urgently. "you have to survive first, or there won't be a next step—"

"there's no next step for us!" he's interrupted by player 100. a stout old man who had been at odds against 456 since the start— you remember him having 10 billion won in debt. it makes you snicker. he eggs on the crowd. "with that money, we won't be able to pay our debts. we need to play one more game, then the money will increase to 240 million. with that we can pay atleast a little of our debts! isn't that right!?"

"you're going to die trying!" you snap, making your way to the front of the crowd. you glare at player 100, at all his little supporters cheering at the back. "your greed is going to get you killed. how can you be so confident to say that you'll survive the next game? what if you die?"

"you shut up, young lady!" he hisses, mouth scrunching bitterly. "is that how you speak to your elders? your brain is too small to comprehend real life problems. we can't continue with our lives with that little money!"

"continue your lives?" a laugh bubbles out of your throat. "look at that greying head of yours, you barely have a life ahead of you! why don't you let us live ours?!"

that seems to have ticked him off, because he quite literally turns red as he takes a threatening step towards you.

"what did you just say?"

"i said—" you step forward, shooting him a challenging glare, "you're too old to be playing children's games. vote wisely and let us go home."

he lets out a snarl before trying to lunge at you, but you're pulled back as player 001 steps between the two of you. like a wall. he looks at the old man, eyes cold, his voice low. "that's enough."

since the incident with thanos, nobody has really tried anything with 001. it's obvious enough they're intimidated by him, and they don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. 100 doesn't either, with the way he collects himself and steps back, embarrassed. you look over 001's shoulder, make eye contact with the old man and shoot him a taunting smile. you know it's childish, but you've resented him from the start.

before the old man can say anything, player 001 drags you to the side where you can't argue with people anymore. and the voting continues.

"you can't talk to people like this," he says lowly, gaze focused on the crowd. staring at something that you can't figure out. "you never know what they might do."

you huff bitterly. you know what he means.

"i don't care. i fucking hate bullies."

"potty mouth." he chastises, but theres a smirk on his face. he's teasing. you chuckle.

"remember you need to get out of here alive." he repeats, looking at you with an intensity that is almost terrifying. "you can't do that if you keep this up."

"jeez, okay dad." you joke, rolling your eyes. your words make him smile lightly.

"thanks for having my back there." you tell him sincerely. he looks at you for a bit before nodding in acknowledgement.

the voting ends, and they announce that the games will continue tomorrow. it makes your heart drop.

that night, you feel uneasy when you try to sleep. your clothes stick to your skin, and the side of your face keeps itching. with an irritated grumble, you get off the bunker and walk over to your new friend's side. you squint your eyes before looking for 001— and when you find him, you gently shake him.

"are you sleeping?" you whisper.

he opens his eyes, wincing slightly before sitting up. his voice is hushed as he responds, "not anymore. what is it?"

you bite your lower lip nervously before reluctantly asking, "will you go to the restroom with me? i'm kinda scared to go alone."

he blinks at you, confused. you continue out of sheer desperation.

"those guards just stare weirdly with their weird little masks and it makes me nervous." you hope your voice doesn't shake as you speak. "last time one of them kept knocking on the door while i was in the washroom and it just— scared the shit out of me. and my face is itching and i really need to go. please?"

he listens patiently. for a moment you think he'd decline but he just sighs and nods, and you cheer just a little as he steps out and follows you to the door. you bang on it, loudly telling the guards that you need to go. one of them opens the sliding window, and then immediately opens the door. it makes you feel strange, because usually it takes a lot more effort to convince them. either way, you're grateful.

you know your better option would've been to take one of the girls with you, but the sad fact is you haven't had the chance to get friendly with any of the female players yet. and for some reason, player 001 makes you feel a sense of safety and security that is almost strange— you feel at ease around him.

"i'll be in the men's room," he tells you, and you nod. he shoots a glance to the guard standing outside the women's restroom before walking away. you quickly go inside, and the first thing you do is splash water on your face.

you quickly clean the blood off your skin, holding back the urge to cry. you scrub at your cheeks till you're sure you can scratch the itch away for good. your nails dig a little too deep, and a little blood oozes out of the scratches on the side of your face. you clean that too, and then try to scrub the splatters of blood off your t-shirt. it's white, and you have no soap— so the stains remain. a faint reminder. you take your time, and anticipate the knocking— but it never comes.

you look in the mirror, at your tired face and sunken eyes, before giving yourself a nod and stepping out. 001 is waiting for you outside, looking to the side. he gives you an odd look as you step out, before walking alongside you.

"are you alright?" he asks gently, concerned. kind as ever.

you look at him again, give him a nod. "thank you."

when you two reach the room, he returns the smile with one of his own.

as you make your way to the bunker, he grabs your shoulder, "why don't you start sleeping on our side?" he says quietly, "join the team. there's a bed near mine. you won't feel so scared that way."

you blink, trying to see his face in the darkness. the offer is enticing— and most of all, it warms your heart.

"really?" you ask hopefully.

"really." he says kindly.

you follow him to the bunker, and he covers the railing with his hand to avoid you getting hurt as you bend down to get into the bed. he looks at the slightly wet patches on your shirt— blinks before getting a bedsheet and putting it over you. "get some sleep. we got a game to play tomorrow."

you smile softly at him. as he turns to get into his own bed, you grab his hand. it's warm against yours— big and rough. you don't allow your mind to drift that way. it's not right. he looks at you, gaze questioning.

"thanks again," you say softly, "it means a lot to me."

he leans down a little to ruffle your hair before going back to his bed and laying down. you close your eyes and drift to sleep— unaware that he stays up, thinking.

breakfast is boring— bread and milk. you sit on the bed, scowling. player 456 is surprised as he sees you there, before you two share understanding smiles. you bow a little and he bows back before going along with his friend. 001 comes to sit by you then, munching on his own breakfast.

"i miss home," you mumble, "how am i supposed to survive on just this? it's not even chocolate milk."

001 laughs, "don't worry, you can have whatever you want once you get out of here."

"will i?"

he looks at you, raising his eyebrows. you take his silence as a cue to continue, "im scared i'll die in here."

he looks down, before shifting to be closer to you. "you made it this far, didn't you?"

you look at him, voice getting shaky. "and what if i dont make it till the end? what if i die here and my family thinks i abandoned them? i don't want to die. i haven't even lived my life yet."

his expression is hard to read. "you'll make it out of here alive," he tells you with conviction, "ill make sure of it."

your lips wobble as you stare at him, and he smiles before poking you in the nose. "finish your food. you need the energy for the next game. we'll make it out alive, then we'll try to get the voters on our side and go home. sound good?"

you snort, rolling your eyes before nodding. "sounds good."

he gives you his bread then, tells you to eat more. when you protest, he sends a warning glare your way— the one with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing gaze. you roll your eyes, and happily eat it.

you were hungry. perhaps he can tell things like that. you're just grateful.

today, you decided to be a little rebellious. when you first joined the games, you used to spend a long time in the bathrooms— analyzing, looking for a way out. during that time, you'd discovered that one of the screws in the ceiling vent was loose. you hadn't really bothered checking it before, but since it's daytime and you have some time before the next game, you decide to explore.

your hairclip works— the screws were not tightly fixed, so it unscrewed easily. you'd contemplated checking it out last night, but you didn't want to take any risks, especially since player 001 was with you. so now whatever you do, the responsibility will be yours.

when the bathroom gets empty and all the women leave, you pull it down and try climbing up. it's moments like these that you can pride yourself on your agility— work that usually required two people, you could do alone. with one leg on the flush and the other on the top of the cubicle, you climbed up, scratching the side of your arm slightly before finally getting in the vents. you groaned to yourself, and then started crawling inside. there were two ways to go— you chose the left one. you looked down, trying to understand the layout of the place where you were practically held hostage. you keep crawling, making sure not to make too much noise before finally seeing a place through the gaps that you hadn't seen before— you carefully remove the screws and pull it apart.

the place looks empty. the walls are all sorts of pink and green. you put your head down and look both ways, seeing a door at the end of the hallway. carefully, you climb down and lower yourself to the ground with a thump. your shoulder hurts a little. you stand up, and aim for the door. as soon as you begin walking, you hear footsteps. it's as if someone splashed cold water on you— you realize the grave mistake you just made. guards walk here with guns, and you made the impulsive decision to explore a dangerous place like this by yourself?

you look around, running towards the other end of the hallway. the footsteps get louder, and as you look over your shoulder, something grabs you. out of reflex, you go to scream, but a hand clamps down on your mouth, and your back collides with a hard chest.

"shh, it's me." the voice hisses. your wide eyes look up, scared, before realizing who it is.

player 001.

your chest heaves as you break out into a sweat, a tear rolling down your cheek. he keeps you in a tight hold, looking to the side, your breath dampening his hand. the footsteps suddenly become faint, as if walking away. your breaths sync together, and after a moment, he relaxes.

he takes his hand off your mouth before harshly twisting you to face him. his voice is hushed but angry, "what were you thinking?!"

"what are you doing here?" you whisper shakily at the same time.

"everyone was back in the room except you. i came to find you!" he chides, eyes hard. he shakes you slightly, "do you really plan to get killed like this? is this how you want to die? can you go one moment without being a reckless brat—"

his words make you want to cower in on yourself.

"i wanted to find a way out." you try to sound assertive, but your voice betrays you. your words come out panicked, "I wanted to help and— fuck— i got you in trouble too— you shouldn't have come looking for me! fuck— how are we gonna make it out of here?"

he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you tiredly. "the game is about to start. we'll mix in with the crowd when they leave, i doubt they'll notice."

"are you sure it'll work?" you ask. you hear a faint announcement. the game is about to start.

he looks up at the speakers, alert. he grabs you tightly and drags you away with an air of confidence. "let's go."

you don't encounter any guards on the way back. it's strange, but you figure it's because they're all preparing for the next game. player 001's plan worked, because you two mixed in with the crowd, and the guards didn't notice. one of them turned back to look at you, and you panted, staring back at him. your heart raced, but you felt the presence of 001 next to you, and you felt at ease again. the guard looked away.

"i told you to stop being reckless." he says quietly, looking at 456 and 390, before looking back at you. your legs hurt from climbing so many stairs. "what would you have done if they found you?"

you swallow the lump in your throat, staring up at him intensely, eyes glassy. he saved your life. "i guess you stopped that from happening."

he clenches his jaw, his gaze flickering up and down your face before looking away. "i won't always be there to save you."

you look away, heart dropping. "thank you, 001."

"call me young-il."

you look up at him, blinking back tears, quirking an eyebrow as you two walk. "only if you allow me to add 'sir' at the end of it."

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. he has such a nice laugh. "why's that? respect?"

you nod, giving a little bow. "respect is very important in my culture as well. so thank you for saving my life, young-il sir."

he grins a little and pats your head. you thank him again, and decide you like him enough. so you tell him your name.

he tests it on his tongue, and you quite like the way he says it.

the next game had to be the most terrifying so far.

it was called mingle, and you had to run to the rooms in groups according to the number announced. things like these were where you got scared— where you had to group with people. in dangerous situations, you know people usually only look out for two types of people— themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

you were not dear to anyone here. you really should've interacted with more people.

the platform rotates, before the number is announced. six. your eyes widen and you frantically look around, but young-il is faster. he grabs you and drags you to the room with the rest of the team. you pant as the 30 seconds pass, and then look out the window in the door to see how many people were left— quite a few. your eyes widen as the red guards move forward with their guns raised.

young-il leaps forward and covers your eyes with his hand before pulling you into himself as the gunshots ring out— you flinch and shudder at every single one, breathing sharp and your entire frame trembling violently. when there is silence and the doors open, you look up. young-il gently lets go of you, looking around. he's panting too, and you look at him with the most crushed look on your face before he meets your gaze. he can tell what you want to know— why would you do that?

"you shouldn't have to see all this." he says quietly, adjusting his jacket and putting a little distance between you two. 456 pats your shoulder and makes sure people are okay before moving out. you just look at young-il for a while, but he simply looks around, seemingly lost in thought. as if fighting a war within himself. you wish you knew how to reassure him like he did with you, but you realize you barely know anything about him.

the entire floor is painted with blood. the sight makes you want to vomit. you walk carefully, but your foot slips in someone's blood and you begin to fall over. 456 catches you. "are you alright?"

instinctively, your gaze tries to find young-il but he's standing away. his head is lowered.

"yes, thank you." you give 456 a smile, before assuming your place on the platform again.

you play a few more rounds. you're lucky enough to have someone to team with each time— young-il and 456 don't let go of you even once. but then the voice runs out again, and they announce the number 3. this time, 456 is dragged along with the old woman and her son. you look around frantically, and meet young-il's panicked gaze with your own. you begin to run towards him, but two people grab you and drag you towards one of the rooms.

thanos and nam-gyu. you shriek at them, clawing at their arms and trying to run back out. what if young-il doesn't make it? what if something bad happens?

this time, you have no one to cover your eyes or ears. thanos and nam-gyu talk shit within themselves, and you look outside the little window, flinching with every gunshot ringing out, trying to pinpoint if it's young-il's body falling to the ground. you can't help the light sob erupting from your throat, and thanos chooses the wrong moment to come bother you.

"watcha looking for, señorita?" he laughs, poking your side, "is it your old man? did he finally—"

you turn to him and punch him in the face. he falls back and groans dramatically, rubbing the blood running down his nose. nam-gyu rushes to his rescue, giggling. they're both high as a kite. the doors open, and you rush out before they can bother you further.

you look around. 456 is with the rest of the team, but you can't find young-il. frantically, you look towards the dead bodies, heart pounding against your chest and head throbbing. suddenly, there's cheers from your team, and you look up to see young-il walking over with a bright grin on his face.

you don't know what compelled you to do it. you were acting on your emotions— overwhelmed by the relief you felt on the sight of his face. before you can even stop, you're dashing towards him and crashing into his body, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

he's shocked, that much is obvious by the way he tenses slightly. but then he returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you and placing one hand on your head, gently patting. "i told you we'd make it."

you choke on a soft sob, nodding, burying your head further into his chest, as if ready to climb inside him, "i thought you—"

he shushes you softly, voice gentle as he runs a hand through your hair. you can feel his heart racing against his chest too. you wonder if it's for the same reasons as you. "i'm okay."

you wish the game ended there. but there was one more round to go. as you rotated on the platform— the moment you were dreading finally happened as young-il predicted it. the number announced was two.

you were ready to die there. things seemed to happen in slow motion— 456 took his best friend 390, 149 was dragged by her son. you didn't get the chance to see who took who next, because young-il had grabbed your hand and was dragging you towards one of the rooms. there were only fifty rooms— the first one you two got to was taken. he dragged you to another with a mere ten seconds left.

you sighed in relief as you got in, before seeing another man was already there. he was shaking in fear, and you jumped at the harshness of young-il's voice when he ordered him to get out. when the other player refused, young-il lunged at him and put him in a headlock.

your eyes widened and you stepped forward, panic stricken but he looked right at you and called your name, "close your eyes!"

you flinched. you looked at the man, then at young-il, before squeezing your eyes shut. you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as soon as you heard a 'crack' before opening your eyes.

the player was dead. young-il cracked his neck.

the timer finished at that exact moment, and young-il crawled over to you before pulling you into his chest. the gunshots rang out, and you flinched, sobbing.

young-il killed someone.

"i had to do it," he whispered against your hair, holding your head against his chest, "we both have to make it out alive. i had to do it. you know that right?"

you wanted to believe him, you really did. but in that moment, you felt scared of him for the first time.

the doors opened, and the game finished.

while you wanted to revel in your victory, the incident during mingle had rattled you to your core. the others checked up on you, especially 388 and 456. young-il maintained some distance. you could feel like he thought it's what you wanted. but you could really use his comfort. you just don't know how to talk to him again without being nervous. you force yourself to relive your previous interactions with him— he's still the same young-il who has saved you and comforted you countless times.

he did what he had to do to ensure your survival. that wasn't something you could hold against him. not when both of your lives were on the line.

the voting this time was just as challenging. you made your way to the front of the crowd, praying that they'd choose wisely this time. you need to go home.

one of the players in the old man's team showed you the finger before clicking the 'o' button. the action made your eye twitch, and you grit your teeth before straightening up to attack that guy and scratch his face off, but a hand to your chest held you back.

if looks could kill, young-il's glare could've sent that guy home in a body bag. as the votes in favour of continuing the game increased, you pushed his hand off you and addressed the crowd, "have you all lost your fucking minds?!"

their chitter chatter stopped and they looked at you. you clench your jaw, "after losing so many people out there you still want to play? what the fuck is wrong with you people? are human lives that invaluable to you?"

player 100 steps forward, insufferable as always. "don't you see how much money we're getting for each person? it could settle our debt! we can't give up after how far we've come."

"you're gonna die!" you snap, pointing at him, "you could take this money and go home and be happy instead of risking your life for something that is not assured to you! why won't you listen?! i want to go home!"

the others in favour of terminating the game start chanting with you, a string of 'i want to go home' echoing across the room.

player 100 glares, urging his own team to chant against you. he looks towards young-il, yells something along the lines of, "look after your fucking kid!" before the barell of a gun presses against the back of your head. the whole room freezes, and so do you.

"disruptions against a democratic vote will not be excused." the robotic voice calls out. for a second you think this is it. you look at young-il. if you die here, you'd prefer the man who saved your life to be the last person you see. he glares at the guard, his jaw clenching. the guard lowers the gun and steps back and you let out a breath of relief.

you immediately saunter over to him, gritting your teeth. the vote is a tie— and they announce the next voting to be held tomorrow.

456 says there's about to be a fight. the rest of the team got busy setting up a barricade— and you didn't get the chance to talk to your player. you knew his concern though, when he made sure to especially hide your side of the bed with two mattresses.

you play with the hem of your shirt as you sit in your bed by your lonesome. your food sits by you, untouched. you dont feel like eating. the weight on the bed shifts, and young-il appears into view.

"you're not eating."

you swallow the lump in your throat. "i don't feel like it."

he contemplates, eyes lowered before he looks at you again. "im sorry you had to witness that. I don't want you to be scared of me."

you want to cry. "im not." you whisper, "you.. you had to do what you had to do. to save us."

he blinks, nodding.

"back there, i thought that was it. it's over." you chuckle bitterly. "but you saved me again. you acted on impulse. i could never resent you for it."

your eyes are bloodshot as you look at him again. fat tears roll down your cheeks, and he frowns. he sighs before leaning closer, brushing the tears away. "why are you crying?"

"i wouldn't have survived this far if it wasn't for you." you whisper, voice cracking. "promise me you wouldn't abandon me. promise me you won't die."

his gaze softens. he's silent for a bit, his hand coming to rest on your knee, "i promise."

you sniffle, wiping your tears away. a small smile appears on your face, "i punched thanos."

"thanos?" he frowns, confused before raising his eyebrows in recognition, "ah, the loud kid with the purple hair?"

you nod proudly. "he said something like 'did 001 finally die?' so i punched him."

he laughs heartily— face scrunching cutely, eyes crinkling. he shakes his head fondly before ruffling your hair again. "attagirl."

it makes you blush slightly and you smile, looking down at your lap. he grabs your dinner— the roll sitting next to you and unwraps it, taking out a piece before holding it out, "eat."

you snort before leaning forward and taking a bite. he looks at you for a while with that faraway look in his eyes, before wordlessly continuing to feed you the rest. the words go unsaid. 'what are we doing? why are we so comfortable with each other?'

some sauce sticks to the corner of your mouth. he raises his hand to hold your chin, his thumb gently wiping it off. your breath hitches.

neither of you protest when his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, gaze focused on it like he's hypnotized. he's thinking, mindlessly feeling the plush texture of it.

you've always been impulsive. especially in situations where you shouldn't be. it happens so naturally— how your lips part just slightly. and maybe he's impulsive too, because his thumb slips inside, and his breath hitches as soon as your lips wrap around his thumb.

his gaze raises to meet yours— and you blink almost dazedly. his thumb presses down on your tongue, and he calls out your name in the softest voice.

"i'm too old for you." he whispers, shaking his head in disapproval.

your eyes flutter, and you lean forward, grabbing hold of his wrist. he pulls his thumb out, and you almost whine in protest. to your utter delight, he replaces it with two of his fingers, and your eyes almost roll back as you crawl forward till you're situated on his lap, mouth stuffed with his index and middle finger. you suck on them enthusiastically. they're long and thick and perfect and you don't want them out of your mouth ever again. it elicits a soft moan out of him— and if you could put that sound on repeat for the rest of your life, you'd be happy.

he pulls his fingers out and grabs the back of your head, pulling you close till your foreheads press together. you try to lean forward, to capture his lips with your own. he chuckles slightly, eyes closed, playfully rubbing his nose against yours. you whine.

"so impatient." he whispers, and then his lips are colliding with yours. it would be embarrassing if someone were to catch you two like this— more so for him than for you. thankfully, the others are busy strategizing for the night, and are not looking for either of you.

you moan softly and he bites down on your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. it's desperate and reckless and so full of spit— it makes you whimper into his mouth and he pulls you further into himself, as if telling you to shut up. his experience is obvious in the way he kisses, and you follow his lead. unknowingly, your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and he lets out a soft hiss. he pulls away slightly, strings of saliva connecting your mouths. he licks it away.

"come on, sweetheart," he whispers, one hand coming down to help your hips grind against his thigh, "make yourself feel good— that's it, that's my good girl."

you moan softly, and his free hand clamps your mouth shut. he speeds his movement, clenching and unclenching the muscle of his thigh, guiding your hips to move faster against his lap. it's been so long since you've masturbated— and this is unarguably the hottest situation you've ever been in, with the hottest man you've ever seen. so you're already close. you cry out into his hand, your voice muffled. he understands what you mean and lets you move on your own speed then, pulling your head into the crook of his neck as he whispers soft words of praise into your ear.

the moment he calls you his good girl again, you cum. he muffles the sound with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut before he looks at you intensely. you collapse against him, slightly sweaty, your hands holding onto his shoulders as you cling to him. he runs his hand through your hair, breathing sharply. it's a small moment of bliss in the hell you've found yourself in.

soon, the lights go out, and dread settles in your stomach once you feel his body tensing. player 388 pulls one of the mattresses back slightly, hisses a quick "get under the bed!"

and the next game begins.

A/N: this was incredibly fun to write. i love writing him a little soft and fatherly, so deal with it. i might write a part 2 for this, if anyone wants that. this idea has been in my head for a while. i love him so, so much. this fic is my baby and i truly hope you guys like reading it as much as i liked writing it.

tags! @carolinevoight @lovers-roq @wildtigerlili @menabuser16 @deadlyobsessivfennec @watasinekoru @hanakokunzz @cowuies

[willyoubemycherryy]

“Who’s your new friend?” (Salesman x reader)

Summary: Your dad’s dark stranger is the one for you. Too bad about his cruel streak….

Contains: sit down chicas this is a LONG one, plot but gratuitous p+rn, dads!friend au, rough sex, edging, pussy spanking, he’s mean :( , choking, drugging, everything IS consensual bc I’m tired of everyone writing him as a domestic terrorlzing rapist, he’s still psychotic and unhinged tho, just not psychosexual because psychotic traits don’t always translate to sexual violence, your dad is sweet but trusting and naive, squirting, pussyspanking unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy, wrap your gummy) begging, degradation, praise, cursing, reader is a bit of a bitch, light dom/sub dynamics, his cock is stuuuupid fat bc I said so and have eyeballs, ur 22 in this period and he’ll spit in your mouth in the next installment of this series :)

A/N: Yeah, he got me y’all😔 Gong Yoo sexy, fine, tall, handsome ass got me😞I’ve been tripping out for 17 days straight over this man sooo…

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ _ _

_ ➵ ✩ ◛ ° . +

You knew your dad often had strange friends but this one takes the cake.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow at the tall man your father was currently introducing you to. Standing over 6 feet in a pitch black suit he was extremely easy on the eyes with full lips, perfectly styled hair, relaxed posture and not a wrinkle in sight paired with the darkest almond eyes you’d ever seen. You rove your eyes over him once more before looking back up to find him staring back at you…

Yes, he was perfectly lovely but was it too soon to assume something about him was..off?

You feel your face warm at how strong his gaze is but you stare back defiantly, mentally cursing your too trusting dad.

“…and since we chat almost everyday during our commute to work- would you guess that we’re both in sales and marketing?- I thought it’d be great to invite him over and talk more in a more comfortable setting!” Your dad says excitedly, smiling as he tells you all about his new friend. The man smiles alongside him, cheeks faintly dimpling and despite your distrust, you can’t take your eyes off of him as you feel your heart beat harder in its cage.

“I was going to call to tell you I was bringing company but you know I forget to use that thing.” ‘That thing’ being a modern phone to a man who was awful with tech. You scoff but nod to let him know you don’t mind (completely) and because you already know how your father is and he continues,

“Oh right! Speaking of forgetting, I don’t remember if I ever mentioned my daughter even though I know I probably did-“, you listen to your dad introduce you and the man smiles even wider as he steps forward, offering his hand to yours in a shake.

“How pleasant to meet you.” Holy shit. His voice is a lot deeper than you expected and you absentmindedly place your hand into his waiting one. The way it completely encases your hand due to its sheer size makes your heart stop before it melts down to a warm pool in your lower stomach, settling in your core like hot tea as you breathe out a shaky exhale. His hand is also rougher than you thought it’d be for a simple businessman as it squeezes yours and a quick flash image of that same hand around your throat has you snatching your hand back as you shoot him a tight smile.

“Right. Back at ya. Um, how old are you again?”

“Ah. Isn’t that improper to ask new people?”

“I’m just curious to how you maintain a career as developed as my dads because you seem so young.”

Oh. You’re quick witted; that makes things a potential hassle for him.

“Well, I’m much older than you. I’m certainly older than your father.”

“Ha! Are you also the Emperor of China-”, You’re cut off as your dad says your name in the way he does when you’re being rude but you ignore it, glaring at the man.

“Be polite! He’s older so you should speak respectfully”, you barely hide the roll of your eyes but your fathers new friend catches it and you swear you hear a huff of amusement from him, the low sound makes you shiver as you turn on your heel to go back upstairs, your dads scolding calling after you.

“Aish! Spoiled! Brat! You were so much cuter when you were younger!”

“Whatever!”

“Bellybutton lint!”

“Old man!”

“Oh yeah?! You won’t be 22 forever!”

The only response he gets back is the sound of your bedroom door slamming while you’re all too aware of the eyes on your back when you’d left. Your dad sighs as he runs a hand down his face. The salesman simply stands quietly, grinning as always as he observes your little spat. Something about it caught his attention though.

“She’s young.” And your father agrees, insisting that’s part of the reason for your behavior, you apparently were “much nicer” and he nods in understanding.

“College age is tricky. I met her mom around her age and things are so much more different than they were back in our day so I try not to be too hard on her but sometimes she’s so-!” He tilts his head as he waits for your dad to find the word.

“Difficult!”

Ah. How cute. A little attitude problem.

That honestly doesn’t surprise him because most pretty little things almost always had one- you were no exception. Though, you yourself were a pleasant surprise. He’d maintained a friendly relationship with your father on a mere whim, finding him to be…nice unlike most he considered nuisances, so when the man invited him over one day he accepted and as he trailed through the door behind him, taking in the warm tones of your house when he spotted you. Standing near the island by the kitchen in shorts so tiny the wide waistband made them look like a mini skirt, the words ‘PINK’ on the back and a snug white tee shirt, the blue of your bra peeking through, you walk towards them smelling of fabric softener and cold vanilla. Your hair was down as you stared at him like you were both scared and wanting with big eyes full of suspicion. The gloss of your lips shining back at him as your lips curl during your inspection of him, lightly arched brow raising as you gave him a thorough once over, eyes flicking back up to his when you were done. You were absolutely delicious to look at. Short, smart mouthed, pretty and prissy.

He didn’t mind the rude way you spoke to him- no- because your eyes tell. You were weary but interested; cynical in all the ways your father wasn’t but that was perfectly fine.

His smile slowly shifted into a smirk as he followed your father to the living room, humming whenever he would speak, but his thoughts were preoccupied.

Thinking of smooth legs on a cute face he’d love to see wet with tears as he spanked your smart ass raw.

•

•

•

When you went upstairs the first thing you did was grab your headphones and tune out.

What the fuck was your dad thinking??

You huff as you flop on your bed, scrolling through your favorite apps while you tried to slow your thoughts.

Everything is fine.

Your dad always has the most unconventional friends and acquaintances so this was probably just that and you were freaking out more than usual because he was unfathomably attractive. That’s it. You just needed to get a grip. But fuck would you love to ride him through the weekend if only he didn’t have such a concerning aura…and wasn’t pals with your dad of-course.

About 2 hours later when you go downstairs to get food and bring it back to your room-answering curtly when your dad asks if you want to join him and the hot stare of the suited man you’re trying to pretend isn’t there.

“Hard no. Do I look like a nurse? You two senior citizens can play amongst yourselves.”

You sigh when you get back up to your room, FaceTiming your friends as you eat, talking about whatever and whoever before you remember you need to organize some of your class notes and say goodbye before you hang up.

It takes less time than you thought it would so when you’re done, you go about your night routine. Teeth, skincare, oversized cotton shirt, lights off as you put on a movie you’ve seen a million times. It’s harder for you to fall asleep when you can still hear his deep voice through the walls talking and laughing with your dad, shaking your core as you toss and turn- physically fighting the feeling- until you fall asleep.

X

Another few hours later, you wake with a start. Something’s not right.

You can still hear the tv downstairs but no voices. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and as you turn your head towards your door- pulling the covers off your legs, the sight of a tall dark figure rips a blood curdling scream from your throat. In that same second the figure steps closer, the light from your tv illuminates him and your heart races as you stare back wide eyed at your dads suited stranger friend. You’re still gasping and reeling as he sits down on your soft bedding, watching with rapt eyes at you trying to calm down from the near heart-attack he almost gave you.

“W-what..what the fuck?!” He smiles as you get up to yell in his face, gesturing wildly.

“Why the hell are you in my-“, you cut yourself off as another realization dawns on you completely and he can’t help the compulsion he feels towards you.

“How long have you been in my room- wait where’s my dad?!” If you knew who he was and what he did for a living, you’d be much more agreeable…or maybe not and that’s what fascinated him about you. You were so unusual. Wanting to steer clear of him instead of on, even though he’d piqued your curiosity, you didn’t blindly follow like every other nuisance did; instead he was the inconvenience and the way you let him know via sharp words and distrusting looks was something he hadn’t gotten in a while. The way you brushed him and your hard working dad off with no more than a pretty glare while probably never having actually worked for anything in your life made him itch to correct you. Make you say sorry- break you back into the sweet girl he knew you could be.

“I swear to god- WHERE IS MY DAD-!“, before you can raise your voice anymore, turning to go find him yourself, he’s pulling you back by your wrist, covering your mouth with his other hand as he hooks his chin over your shoulder cooing at you to calm down - listen to him a bit.

“Shh. Your father is alright, had too much to drink so he’s passed out downstairs but safe nonetheless.” You feel your body relax against your will at his words but you still bite his palm for scaring the hell out of you. The pain that blooms up his wrist from his hand makes him hiss against your ear and you wish it didn’t sound so good before it trails off into a light chuckle.

“I’m going to move my hand. You won’t scream. Understand?” You roll your eyes but nod anyway and a few seconds later his hand is lowered but he keeps you sitting up against him.

“Look- if you’re some kind of extortionist or blackmailer, my dad only works for clean honest compan-“,

“I’m none of those things.” Huh. You’re even more confused but the silence that follows he doesn’t break instead he waits for you, enjoying your discomfort as you shift against him.

“Then what the fuck do you want? Nothing better to do in your ancient age on a Tuesday night besides creep around?” Your mouth would be the death of you and this might very well be the moment as you mouth off to a complete stranger who could be (and actually is) very dangerous but bravado was all you had. You’d seen and heard more than enough to know that an older man in a suit visiting a young girl he didn’t know in the dead of night never ended well.

“I want to chat for a bit.” You tilt your head a bit in confusion but he takes your silence as the go ahead, making your heart pound when he shuffles even closer causing you to feel his firm pecs through his expensive smelling dress shirt; the heady combination makes your pulse race as you fight yourself on whatever it is exactly that you’re feeling but shouldn’t be.

“When your father mentioned you, you sounded like such a nice girl…”, the low way he speaks resembles a purr, words vibrating his chest, thick arms holding you tight to him as his warm breaths coast across your chest and neck.

“Imagine my surprise when I meet you and you’re nothing more than an ungrateful little princess with a pretty face but very nasty attitude.” You feel your face warm in shame at the blatant way he calls you out, immediately defensive as you shoot back,

“What’s it to you? If you want to see some obedient thing then get a boarder collie-!” Enough of that. His hand claps down over your throat, squeezing not enough to hurt but enough to make you shut up as your heart rate spikes, nerves going haywire at the sudden cut of oxygen. You get dizzy quick. Blood rushing through your ears like a current of cotton, hand flying up on instinct to pull at his muscled forearm but it doesn’t budge and you whine- biting your lip as your heart beats liquid fire through your body. You were so fucked up, clamping your thighs shut as if that will stop you from getting wet but it’s hard to pay attention to that with a tight hand around your neck and mean lips against your ear.

“Didn’t your father tell you to respect your elders?” He tuts out and you nod desperately, willing to swallow your snideness if it meant getting air. He loosens his grip enough for you and you gasp so hard you nearly choke, the sound turning him on more than it should; he grabs your chin so you face him with teary eyes and he nearly groans at how weak you look. The sedatives he slipped in your dad’s drink would last for a while so for now it was just you and him.

“Answer me.”

“You first-“, you’re quick to shut your mouth as a smirk grows on his face. A fast learner.

“Smart. But”, he pauses to put you on edge before continuing, “because I quite enjoy your father and his company, I don’t like the thought of him being troubled by anything.” His words are sweet but they also fill you with dread because you know how much you intentionally butt heads with your father. Mouthing off at him just to amuse yourself sometimes. You never meant to stress him but messing with him a little was how you showed your affection.

“That includes you as well.” He rasps against your neck, nipping the sensitive skin there with more teeth than tongue and you choke on a moan, breathing hard.

“Okay. Got it. I need to be nicer-”,

“No, you need a firm hand.” Oh fuck. You bite your lip at that, watching through bleary eyes as he rubs his other hand down your chest, brushing your hard nipples through your shirt as he feels up your soft curves. The hand around your throat tightens when he feels you might move but when you don’t he doesn’t loosen it- instead he rewards you with wet, scalding kisses behind that spot under your ear, suckling down until he reaches your collarbones. Your eyes water from all the sensations as you try to rationalize what’s going on before you lose yourself to how good you feel.

The hand caressing over your body doesn’t stop, threatening to burn you alive with the heat it ignites in you. To make matters worse, you can’t even breathe deeply enough to calm down with the hold he has on your neck and you’re reminded of how pathetically wet you are whenever you move your legs as you’re completely naked underneath your shirt. So much is happening but it’s not enough. Fleetingly scarce touches is all you’re being given but you need more. You shouldn’t want this, want him- or anything having to do with him- but you do and that thought scares you more than any potential repercussions.

He watches you with an unreadable expression as you shift constantly, sliding a hand under your shirt to cup your tits, flicking and twisting the stiff nubs cruelly between his fingers. Laving his tongue over each bruise he’s left on your neck before choking you harder, making the veins on the back of his hand show and your mouth drops open, hoarse broken moans falling as your hips twitch upwards. This was how he liked you. Melting into him so obediently…

“You’re going to be a good girl now?” He asks like it’s a question but the even in hazy state you’re falling into, you know it’s an order. He loosens his grip again so you can answer, voice hoarse,

“..y-yeah.” The softened tone you use when you respond makes him hard beyond belief and he bites your shoulder with a satisfied groan and you swear your cunt has a pulse. The familiar burning ache is so blinding that you listen immediately when he tells you-

“Open your legs.”

He almost didn’t hear your sharp intake of breath. He barely noticed the way your hips snapped up to hump his hand… he was preoccupied with just how wet you were. Your arousal coats his fingers as he slides them between your sopping lips making you keen through shuddering breaths as you try to control yourself. A few hard circles to your clit shatters that control as you cry out, needy sobs falling from your gloss smeared lips while you beg prettily for him.

“Please! I-! I’ll-anything! Just-!” His hand collar tightens again as he slides two fingers knuckle deep in your spasming hole, immediately curling them towards him, grinding them against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you and the fire that’s been steadily burning inside you almost makes you black out from how quick it threatens to consume you. You’ve never felt more out of your mind, your cunt so soaking wet it’s audible. White-searing pleasure shoots electricity through every nerve and you’re screaming. Between the fuzz in your head from oxygen loss or the brutal way he’s fucking you with his fingers- the one thing you do know is that if you cum now, you’ll faint.

“Waittt- mm-! S-stopp!!” It’s the struggle of a lifetime to get the words out but you do and when you do, surprisingly- he listens. Taking his fingers out as the strings of your slick drip from them and you cry at the loss, the ache still there but you could at least breathe. You feel a nip at your ear and you only then notice the way you’ve rested your weight completely against him.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick with arousal from how wonderfully you responded to him. So wet he could taste it in the air as you trembled and cried against him. The water in your eyes spilling down over as they rolled back into your skull. Your face was the perfect erotic expression of tormented bliss as he made you earn air and fight off an orgasm so strong it would’ve put you in a vegetative state.

The sound of your weak sniffles make his cock ache as he lays back on your bed, maneuvering your hips over his as he opens his pants, taking his length out he moans at the pressure relief. Swiping his fat head through your messy folds but not inside.

“Well? I need you to answer me. Or do I need to get it out of you myself?” You shake your head, lifting your arms when he moves your shirt up off you and now you’re completely naked while he’s still clothed. As much as his stare intimidated you, his attentions felt even better, moaning at the dirty kisses his cock gave your hole.

“Was gonna cum…but you didn’t say I could yet”, you reach up to use his arm as leverage while you wiggle your hips and your submission drives him mad with how much he wants to ruin you.

“Aw. That’s cute…but if you came before I let you, what then? Are you smart enough to tell me?” He asks sweetly but the condescending undertone makes you feel dumb as heat blooms in your chest and you will away the fuzz that’s making it hard to think so you can give him a proper answer. One that would please him. The fact that you even wanted to please him was something you’d have to get back to.

“I’d be in trouble?” You say it like a question and less of an answer and he finds your uncertainty so cute as he laughs indulgently at you.

“Close. It’s because you’re my good girl. And my girl only does as she’s told, yeah?” The same trickling tingle at the base of your skull is back again as you mindlessly repeat after him.

“Yeah.” He hums, lining himself up with your drooling pussy, sliding in with one thrust. Gritting his teeth with a heavy groan while you choke on a sob.

“Fuckin’ tight-!” Deep grunting in your ear overwhelming you in the best way and you lose it from how full you are. You could’ve guessed by his height and frame that he’d be packing but it felt fatter than you would have ever been able to accurately guess, pressing effortlessly against every spot that made you see stars.

You were everlastingly grateful your dad was knocked out because the sounds coming from you and your room were beyond incriminating. Even though he wasn’t moving, every-time you did, you could feel the deliciously heavy pressure against your slick walls. Shivers wracking up your body as wheezing fucked out moans left your mouth and you grind down in messy circles until the hand on your throat stops you.

“Look at you. Desperate n’ wet begging to cum. You’d do anything I tell you, huh? Just like a dog.”

A disgustingly pathetic warble is his reply but he wants more from you, choking you hard as he pinches your sensitive nipples.

“Uhhn! Yes!” The sheer desperation in your shaky voice gives him a sick head-rush.

“Open your legs for me.”

You obey before he even finishes his sentence. Thighs falling apart, cooled air over your center makes you moan wetly as you wait patiently. So patiently that the first heavy slap against your pussy winds you by the time the pain registers. As soon as the sting settles, warmth pools in its place, sensitivity heightened as you wail. The stricken sound makes his cock throb inside you.

“Wha-!”, another slap cracks down on your swollen lips, hitting your clit spot on and again and you try in vain to wriggle away.

“You still need to prove to me that you’re sorry for your behavior earlier.” He says, voice casual but no less mocking and you cry. Tears running down your cheeks as your body struggles to adjust and obey. Before you can shout out however many strings of apologies it’ll take for him to let you cum, he strikes your center again, hissing in pleasure at your screams. He feels it. That somehow you’re even wetter, dripping down his balls and smearing your slick all over the front of his slacks. He has half a mind to make you clean it up when he’s done with with you as he spanks your cunt again, biting your ear hard until it reddens.

“If you cum before I tell you, I promise I’ll make this the longest night of your life”, he groans darkly in your ear. You’re blessed that you can still hear him through the bass of your heart’s beat and the loud, wet connect every time his hand comes down. You were so close. The sharp sting and the pained pleasure of swelling warmth his heavy hand left behind was too much and your poor clit couldn’t take much more. Gasping through your tears, you scramble to find the right words.

“‘Lease- please! Ah-m’sorry!” Your raspy voice breaks halfway through when lifts you only to slam you back down on his fat length, flicking your sensitive nub when he meanly asks you,

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Try again, little girl.” You night just be in for a long night after all.

You could barely breathe from how hard he was choking you, swollen pussy enflamed from countless spanks, and your center was stuffed to the brim as he was so big that he didn’t even have to try to hit your spots. You scratch and wrestle with his hand until he loosens it, gasping and whining, you pray you don’t come from the instant relief it gives you. The rush settling over you like a fuzzy blanket. He shifts below you and you hurry to get the words out before he makes you come without his say-so.

“I’m- I’m sorry! So sorry! Please Sir, can I-!”

Sir. You called him sir.

It’s less of you apologizing but more of you submitting to him, acknowledging him by title that he held superiority over you that pleases him enough to let you cum. Cutting off your sweet begging with more mean, heavy slaps to your wet pussy, basking in your delighted wails as he fucks up into you.

His hand tightens around your throat and this time, you welcome the suffocating pleasure. Scratchy cries escape when they can but you’re so far on the road to ecstasy that you don’t even care how you look or sound, chest heaving as your eyes water. Your cunt feels like it’s on fire but you beg him in every way you can to keep going even though you can’t take it and he does, groaning against your ear as he rubs messily at your throbbing clit.

“So good, baby- you can cum. Make your little mess before I make you beg some more-”, he does not have to tell you twice as everything you’ve been holding, releases and you do make a mess.

Mouth dropped open as you sob and for the next couple minutes hot unending pleasure is all you know as the stinging slaps get faster, ending with harsh circles on your bud after each one and your hole gets even tighter before you go limp- liquid jetting out of you. He fucks you through it with a tight grip on your windpipe, using you like a snug fleshlight until he’s coming harder than he has in a while at the state he’s put you in. He waits until he catches his breath to slide out of you- who’s deadweight as he lifts you off him.

Rolling off the bed, the silence makes him look over at you only to see that you’re out cold. His eyebrows raise as he huffs out an amused laugh, fixing his pants before brushing his hand over your pretty face. He might have overdone it he thinks as he sees your face return to it’s normal, less flushed hue. Leaning down, on impulse he presses a kiss to your cheek, his gentlest touch of the night before getting up and covering your worn naked body with one of the many blankets on your bed.

“You’re a treat in more ways than you know.”

As he stands, before he opens your door to leave, he pulls a card out of his pocket and leaves it on your nightstand then heads back downstairs to get his shoes and jacket. Turning off the tv where your dad sleeps easily and quietly slipping out the door, smiling the entire way. Now he has even more fun.

You.

•

•

•

When you wake up the next morning, you turn with a pleasant ache and stinging between your legs as you stretch, sighing with a blissful smile until you remember why you ache and who caused it.

Pushing yourself up, you stop when you see a card on your stand, rolling to the edge of your bed, you swipe it off and raise it to your face. It’s a picture of lollipop, a simple circle on a stick but the words below it make your chest warm and you don’t even bother pretending to yourself that you aren’t interested in seeing him again.

“Next time I’ll make you even sweeter.”

In part 2…

Or 3…

[labelneo]

SQUID GAME HEADCANON: sitting on his lap 💰

WARNING: suggestive themes

IN HO ★ sips on whiskey while telling you about his day. after drinking enough, would start caressing your thighs while letting you know how much he had missed you while he was gone. kisses your shoulder while you tell him about yours. loves how nervous he still makes you with his lingering touching even when the two of you have already been together for a while. likes to know how much control he has over you with just simple touches and his attention.

THE SALESMAN ★ pulls you into his lap and makes you stay there. likes for you to tell him about how your day while he kisses your neck, loving the way you start to lose focus on what you’re saying and cut your sentences short while he feels you up your hips and waist. tells you how pretty you are sitting on his lap and squirming from his touch. tells you to help him unbutton his button up, smirking when he sees a bashful expression form on your face.

DAEHO ★ runs his hands through your hair while telling you how much l he loves you. will kiss your cheeks and joke around with you, his heart leaping when he’s able to hear your cute laugh. laughs into your chest while hugging you and pulling you in. kisses your hand while telling you what you two should make for dinner later. likes it when you cup his face with your hands, and you can see stars form in his eyes while he’s looking at you and feeling your touch.

JUNHO ★ hugs your waist while burying his face into your neck, sighing into your skin from working a long day at the police department. loves for you to run your hand through his hair. finally feels like he can let himself relax from your touch and melts into your body. massages your thighs while calling you his baby, and tells you how much he appreciates you for being his safe space. kisses your forehead and tells you he loves you more than you know.

THANOS ★ takes the chance to feel you up and ignores whatever you’re saying to focus on how soft your skin feels in his hands. likes to sneak his hands under your shirt and squeeze your boobs to tease you. if he’s feeling playful, he tickles your sides, smiling when he hears your giggles. he’ll lean back into the seat and sees how the position gets you to check him out, raising his ego. will smirk at you while squeezing your butt, telling you how much of a cutie you are.

MYUNG GI ★ will just pull you into his lap whenever he’s stressed, taking the time to just enjoy your close presence. will tell you to just talk to him while he closes his eyes, running his hands up and down your legs. smiles lovingly at you with his eyes closed at whatever it is you’re telling him about, just wanting to take in the moment.

WANT TO READ MORE? Click Here!

TAGLIST: @ninglovr @okaycharr @ilovequeen978 @vinaluvsu

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words; part two (here)

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[sahisan]

you said you were thinking a lot about the salesman and i have too tbh. It's not stated in your rules so im not sure (feel free to ignore if this goes against your rules) but how about Twitter-links for the salesman? I would like it and im sure some other people would too!

Love, annon ♡

— the salesman nsfw links / visuals.

a/n . yk what hell yeah. ily anon and thank you for looking at my rules first.

notices: fem bodied reader. make sure to log in to twitter ! i dont fw whatever the notes in the posts say so please ignore them ! tw guns and gunplay.

— he has all those ropes and gags for a few reasons.

— the typa videos he keeps in his camera roll.

— ↑ bonus 1 / bonus 2 <3

— he had a long day.

— this. just this.

— fav pastime.

— making you drench the sheets time after time.

— breath play.

— say "cheese".

— when you and him have a date.

— can't stay away from your throat and pretty neck. how can he?

— he loves adding a bit more thrill to your activities.

— saying "so needy... you should help yourself to it" as he pats his thigh.

— his fav sight.

— somno <3

— he's mean.

— double penetration.

— spanking & mutual masturbation.

— his fav part of taking a shower with you.