#the salesman x y/n

[voxslays]

JUST LIKE CANDY — SQUID GAMES MEN

Summary: The squid games men with a sweet, kind, and slightly naive reader, who is just a total sweetheart throughout the games. Warnings: American!Reader mentioned in the salesman’s part.

HWANG IN-HO

❀ How did such a sweet, caring being such as yourself end up in a place like this? That was In-ho’s first thought when you ran up to him, inviting to sit with your group, which conveniently had Gi-hun already in it. You could be useful. You were so young. Your trusting and naive nature was going to get you hurt. He knew what the people in these games would do for money, so from that day forward he vowed to protect you.

❀ He cheered you on in six legged race, making sure his guards knew not to kill you just in case your team didn’t make it to the end for some reason. And in mingle, he made sure you were no more than an arms length from him at all times. He’s gotta keep you safe, doesn’t he? And in the end—during the rebellion—he refuses to let you join. In-ho can’t risk losing another person he cares about. It would destroy him. So he begs you to stay put, and you do.

❀ When he finally makes it back to his quarters and becomes the frontman again, he makes sure you’re safe. For the next three games, he wastes no time telling the guards that they should give you hints and clues on the next games. Once this is all over, you two can be together, as you should’ve been all along.

THE SALESMAN (GONG YOO)

❀ When the salesman sees you—a foreigner, likely American—sitting on a wooden bench in the park he liked to walk in during his ‘work’ hours, he couldn’t help but think of what an impeccable target you would be. A perfect contestant for the games. So, Gong-Yoo approached you, expecting the normal untrusting response. Maybe you’d be confused, speaking in English or poor Korean.

❀ But the recruiter was shocked when you waved at him politely, letting him sit beside you. Yet, the most shocking of all, your Korean was amazing for a foreigner. He didn’t even have time to offer you a card to the games before he was engaged in a polite conversation with you. Gong-Yoo didn’t even want to recruit you for the games anymore. Despite being a sadist, subjecting you to such pain and torment seemed wrong for him to do.

❀ Gong-Yoo finds you every day on the same bench, waiting for him. You two quickly become friends, and then something more. The Salesman finds himself excited for your company. So when he asks you to get dinner with him, he couldn’t be more pleased when you happily accept his offer. Another win for him.

HWANG JUN-HO

❀ When Jun-ho discovers an American officer has been transferred to his department, he finds himself slightly intrigued. When he finally meets you, he’s shocked. When he thought of an American, you were the farthest thing from it. You were a complete angel. Not like how the other detectives had described Americans as patriotic and cocky. No, you were different, and Jun-ho feels himself drawn to you.

❀ Jun-ho suggests you work on the case together. I mean, you’re new to the country, aren’t you? You might need some help navigating Seoul! What if you get lost? Jun-ho should be there to guide you for your first time. That, and he might have…maybe…wanted to get to know you better. The two of you find yourselves meeting up quite frequently. At the park, the local library, the station. Anywhere, really.

❀ When the two of you finally ‘crack the case,’ as you say back in the states, Jun-ho cant help but fawn over you like a teenage boy. The way your excitement shows through your gleaming eyes, or how you immediately go to give him a high five. Yeah, he knows you’re the one for him.

[vrystalius]

Baby fever.

Gong Yoo has forbidden himself to fantasise about a peaceful family life. He does not deserve one, neither does he deserve you as as his partner.

Pairing: Recruiter/Gong Yoo x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

Summary: You’re noticing how your husband has been acting a little distant lately but he keeps acting like nothing is wrong. You decide to confront him.

Words: 1.1k

Genre: angsty fluff

Warning: Pregnancy description, spoilers for his backstory

He mainly married you to keep up his appearances to the public. That’s what he believed your marriage to be in the beginning anyway, but falling for you hit him like a truck Gong Yoo missed to spot while crossing the street. Now he can barely step outside the door without thinking about you, your safety, your cute face, your lips and whatever else there is to possibly think about a person.

Imagining you pregnant was a rather frequent fantasy he had. Not in a perverse way that could make one wonder about how sane he exactly is, but rather about how adorable you’d look when you waddle around the apartment, how it would feel to hold you from behind and lift your heavy belly for you, the sight of new stretch marks decorating your body more and more, listening to you baby’s heartbeat.

Even the unpleasant aspects of a pregnancy seem appealing to him for some reason. Holding your hair during a wave of morning sickness and emptying your stomach’s contents into the toilet, preparing a warm bath for your swollen feet, odd cravings where he can only pray for his child’s health while you inhale your exotic plate with a smile.

While future players of the game slam their dakji square against the one on the floor, Gong Yoo stood there with his arms behind his back, literally drowning in a baby fever. Only the sound of the square hitting the other and failing to flip over unpleasantly ripped him out of the trance, reminding him of his occupation that would make it much harder to have a simple, oblivious and lovely family life.

You noticed how much somber your husband has gotten lately. Sure, he was still affectionate as ever and never failed to bring flowers, chocolate or whatever else you desired, but you could see how something was clearly bothering him. Asking what is bothering him will only result in him using his charming recruiter persona to deflect your worries right back at you, bastard.

One evening, while your legs were draped over his thighs after making yourselves comfortable on the couch, empty take out boxes on the coffee table in front of you. You were the only one paying attention to the TV broadcast though.

Your husband’s fingers slowly traced invisible patters on your thigh while his eyes glossed over nothing.

“You’re so quiet lately. Did something happen at work?” Gong Yoo’s eyes slowly shifted to look at you, his hand coming to a stop on your thigh right above your knee. He leaned his head back against the couch cushion. “I’m just thinking a lot about you lately. You’re quite distracting, you know that?”

Again, he’s deflection your worry and question to turn it right back at you. Unamused, you slid your legs off his lap and lifted yourself from your comfortably lying position. You were clearly unamused and he could tell. A small sigh escaped his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment. “No, nothing happened at work. I’m really thinking about you a lot lately.”

“Then exactly are you thinking about then?” You noticed his eyes trying to shift away from you, anywhere else than to look into your eyes. Your hand gently took his into yours, your fingers interlocking with his. You watched him glance down at your two rings, the rings that symbolise marriage and partnership. He emitted a deeper sigh. “I’m thinking about our future together, I suppose.”

You cocked your head in confusion. “Kids. I’m thinking about kids.” Gong Yoo elaborated. “Our kids to be exact.” His grip on your hand got a little tighter as if you’re about to pull away. Instead, you pulled his hand towards yourself. “So… what do you think?” You mumbled, briefly running your fingers through his hair.

Your husband shrugged, his lips turning into a small frown. “I want them, don’t get me wrong, I just— I don’t know. I’m not sure if I…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “If you want them with me, if I would be a good father… My own father wasn’t the greatest and what if I’m going to be just like him, you know?”

Silence fell between you two, the TV serving as l white noise in the background. An endearing smile broke out on your face as you ran your knuckles over his surprisingly sweaty cheek. Opening up to you takes a toll put of him apparently. His eyes closed shut as you briefly admired his lashes fluttered against his skin. His whole face softened.

“So, firstly, I do want children with you and only you. Remember that.” The cold metal of your ring made Gong Yoo shiver under your touch. Your hand cupped his cheek as he slowly opened his eyes again. “Secondly, you’ll be a good father, someone yours never was.”

Your husband scoffed slightly as a larger smile began to break out on his face. It was a little funny to him how you answered him so honestly and kindly, not even knowing the full story between him and his father and how it ended.

Your words did warm his heart. The fantasy of a perfect life with you didn’t seem so taboo anymore, so distant and unreachable. It felt like it was just a moment away.

Gong Yoo leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on your lips, his lips felt soft and gentle. His warm breath fanned your face as his hand slipped out of yours to cup your cheek and angle your face for his tongue to briefly slip between your lips. Pulling away, his forehead rested against yours as his eyes stared into yours.

“Do you mean that? Are you really sure?” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how nervous he really was. “I am as sure as I was when I married you, dear.”

Your husband leaned back in for another kiss, this one was much more brief, teasing almost. “Well would you… like to start trying? For a child I mean.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

As I am posting this I am around 2-3 hours away from arriving at the ski resort. Half of this was written while I was a little nauseous so apologies for any inconsistencies or mistakes as I was in and out of it. The other half was written while I listened to a mix of J-Pop, K-Pop, Hamilton musical, Rap, Odetari. My music taste is quite unique :,) Anyways, I’ll be posting again soon or tonight! It’s going to be either about Thanos or In-ho!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, DRINK and SLEEP enough!!

Take care or yourselves <3

[n0vation]

Won't you just make love to me? Salesman x Saleswoman!Reader

ㄨSUMMARY:Two dogs monster soulmates recruiters become friends accidentaly and decide to have fun watching their favorites show!

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

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TAGS/WARNINGS: Sadomasochistic!reader, gun mention, kidnapping(not reader this time), cigarette burns, Dom!Salesman x sub!reader, piv, choking, dubcon?

Prepared with love and care from Nova after this poll<3.

══✿═══✿════╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞════✿════✿══

Saleswoman!reader who understands something is wrong when flashing her cute and professional smile at this person in the train, resulting in him waving the same golden card as her.

Saleswoman!reader who notices this too good man in train station. If he was that good financially, he wouldn't be sitting on that bench.

"Excuse me, Sir. Would you like to play a game with me? " She asked, crossing her legs to look more professional in that office outfit. He smiles back.

"I don't like this tone. Yet your face doesn't speak to me." He answered, thinking it's a previous winner who came back for revenge.

"Sir, just one game?" Is he drunk? Then it will just be easier for you.

"I'm not a scammer. If you win, you get this." Flashing the money, it always gets them to play.

Salesman can't help but feel confused. Was that an error? There is never an error.

"I'm sorry but that's my zone." He flashed his money too, annoyed. Is she stupid? You compare the message you both received with the same zone assigned for two different number.

Recruiter 01... Recruiter 04...

"Maybe it wasn't an error. Do you really think they would make such an error?" You think out, loud making him roll his eyes. Doubting your superiors? Unimaginable.

The notification on both of your phones cut your discussion short. An address, a number and both of your IDs. So it wasn't an error. You can't help but show off.

"Told you." You said while walking with him outside of the station. He just stares at you, hating how he would have said the same.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Bursts of laughter came from the backseat of the taxi. Who could believe it? The dogs recruiters have a lot in common! You both worked as a circle before being promoted to triangle and from that, recruiter! Even your favorite party games are the same!

"Bet she has the same kinks too" He thoughts. No, Salesman that's too intrusive to ask; he scolded himself.

"Bet he has the same kinks too." You thought. Come on, control yourself!

The taxi stops, the doors parting to reveal a nighttime Seoul. You follow the other recruiter, letting his back frame be the only visual as he leads the way to the outgoing part of the city.

The GPS stops in front of an abandoned building. Suspicious, you both enter looking around, but nothing to be seen except a few spiders.

"You're sure-" He cuts you by shushing you loudly. You hear it now. Faint beat from underground. He grins, having a point; now it's a draw between both of you.

"Illegal party?" You ask as he nods. He points toward a back door slightly opened, letting the noises peek through. Flashing lights and loud rave music greet you after going down to the basement. Painfully for your ankles in such heels. He shows you the picture he just received on his phone. The target.

"I've seen this guy before, trust me. " He states before grabbing your upper arm and leading you through the crowd, reaching the most hidden place. His hand pulling you roughly to make you struggle between all the people.

You enter an enlightened room, watching multiple people play poker. The target, him, is currently getting handled and ruined by his friend . As soon as he notices you, he comes for you and gives each of you a letter, signing you to not open and hurry you out of the room.

While you make your way out of the rave, someone grab you by your tie and pulls you apart. You look around for Salesman and notice him being hurried up the stairs too. The smell of strong alcohol assaults your sense of smell. They leave your clothes, starting their mockeries toward both of you. The two ladies with the three man laughing drunkenly at your looks .

Both of you glance toward each other , thinking the same things: "No witnesses." . You distract the men for a few seconds with the ddakji trick before Salesman sends them to sleep a bit. You handle the ladies before they start being too noisy.

Taxi, building, basement, alcohol, music and finally it's all set up! You look at your new friends who agreed to play with you and Salesman. How sweet!

You glance at the chained victims waking up , greeted by the sight of the recruiter and you drinking peacefully, before you both flash them with the same large smile.

Your new bestie get up before you could, handing you to stay sat while he "puts the show on!". You can't help but feel flaterred at his manner.

"Ladies and gentlemans, you will be playing red hand to win liberty back! The rules are simple, you have to slap your opponent's hand before them but if you go for it and they pulls away you have lost. The first one to arrive to 10 fails is eliminated." He states as he drags out a man and a woman from their still sleeping friend group to put them against each other .He puts them in a way you could safely watch from your seat, not having to worry about your safety since the chain on their leg was not long enough to reach you.

He sits next to you, playing with the gun. If it wasn't for that your show wouldn't start. He lowers his head, starting his bet over the winner. You look at him, admiring his features. It just made your mind wonder over his face at hearing him spat such gruesome overcome for the terrorized victim. Yet he was so attractive it unlocked something in you.

The first round start, the game starts to raise in violence because none of you decide to interrupt at any overflow. You watch him appreciating the game in front of him, especially how the man started to get physical because he was losing to the lady.

7...8...9...10!

"We have a winner!" He said getting up, grabbing two things on the table.

"My dear friend will decide your fate, Sir." He tells out loud before bending toward you, showing you two weapons : axe or gun. You chuckled as you point the gun, not wanting him to take too long before coming back to sit next to you. You watch him from behind, shooting the man and setting the painted in red winner in front of her next opponent. So graciously and hot. You felt like a hole was dug in your stomach and filled with burning love at the sight of the recruiter wiping away blood from his hand.

"Round two" He raises a cup of alcohol to your enjoyment, flashing his smirk again.This time you were too distracted to even pay attention to the outcome of the match. The piano, the screams, him, maybe it was more than enjoyement you were feeling. Spreading all over your body to gather in your stomach. Maybe not stomach now, you would have located somewhere else. He leans toward your side to talk to you and that enjoyment just twist into arousing.

You cross your legs, avoiding his gaze and watching your movie as he turns his head to look straight into your face. You stay stern, poker face, trying to supress any signs of what was physically happening to you.

"No way...You too..." He mumbled his smile growing as he crosses his legs in the same attempt as you. He then suddenly gets up grabbing your arms, dragging you outside of the luxurious room. You chuckled letting him. As soon as he reaches another rich room, he yanks you toward him , kissing you. You answer back at the kiss before breaking up watching him examinate your face and then kiss you again shoving his tongue to entagle with yours. His hands travels up your arm to stops over your shoulder, his fingers sinking deeper like if you wanted to run away. You let your hand finds their way around his neck, pulling him to lay down the soft couch.

You slide over him, feeling the features of his body under the clothes. It was like you expected. You sit over him, grabbing the cigarette over the table and lighting it as he stares at you.

"You wanna smoke?" He asks not understand why right now. You exhale the smoke, blowing into his face as you smirk. You take the cigarette between your fingers leaning to his face. He flinches at your hand holding the hot material resting too close to his cheek.

"Why so sudden? I like my show long and slow." You graze the hot end between your finger around his features. After all, you like to take part of the show too.

"Don't go on that path. You won't like it after." He says amused at your attics but definitely not by the burn that is coming for him.

" Noo." You says sliding the cig down his neck. Chin, neck, Adams apple, collar bone..

" Here. You don't mind ,do you?" You asks innocently, taking an inhale as you goes back to threatening to burn him over his sternal.

"I want to have my own show too." You pout, loving his attempts at getting up but your thighs holded him.

"Warned you." He suddenly grabs your hand, sitting up and pushing you down the matters, reversing the position.

"You had your show, I set it up just for you. My turn now." He says snatching the cigs to bring it to his mouth. You swear you could see him watching where you put your lips over the roll and put his there too. But you were busy trying to get over him again. He mimics your game, running the burning stick over your cheek and down between your chest, pulling your clothes down to your shoulders. He flicks you a smile before sinking it over your skin. Between your boobs. You squirmed , smelling the mixed scent of tabasco and burning flesh as he pressed harder, mainting you down. He lights up another one, pressing another circle next to the first.

"O, O." He puts his two finger in front of them, in a piece sign before mumbling something you couldn't hear. Did he just said "Yoo"?

"Won't you just make love to me?"You asks not sure of hat his show consist of. He doesn't look very sane anyway. He leans over your chest, letting his lips graze over your burned skin. That's when your moral came back: you're gonna hook up with a co-worker.

You try to sit up straight but you get pinned back, hand over your throat. His kisses, a hand squeezing your neck just how it should and the other sliding less and less clothes off of both of you...

And then everything found its right place: both of his hands around your throat, your legs around his waist and his cock inside you. Your fingers claw over his thick forearm, attempting to loose up his grip over your neck as he pounds in you. You watch his face blur from the lack of oxygen combined with the sweet release building inside of you. He grins, smokes escaping his lips as he enjoyed your face leaning to pinkish tone to red.

He presses his finger deeper feeling your hands shaking as you came, feeling high. He lets go of your neck while you take deep breaths . He snickers as he slides a firm hand under your back lifting you up to manhandle your hips. You squints as the smoke coming from him burn your eyes. He looked so hot gripping on your hips to slam you back circled by heavy smoke. It was clear that you needed pur oxygen now. He slams you on last time before lifting you way from his member letting his hot cum shoots on your stomach.

His hand find there way around you , holding you close to him as he admires your face. That is now his favourite show for sure.

FUCK I MEAN WORSE***

[catchastarorten]

—Pause the game.

Pairing: the salesman/recruiter x wife!fem!reader

Summary: your husband had some ‘work’ to take care of with the two people that had been trailing after him all day, but when your call came in, and when he found out that you felt sick, you became much more important than whatever he had going on.

Warnings: mainly fluff, mentions of Woo-seok and Jeong-rae following snd spying on him, some parts of the Russian roulette game, he’s soft for you, he misses you, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.4k

The day had been long, even by his standards. A hundred lottery scratchers, a hundred loaves of bread, the park, the homeless. He had been up to a little ‘social experiment’. Even then, he caught onto the two men who had been trailing behind him since the subway station.

He wasn’t stupid. Someone was after him, and these two lackeys were clearly here to track him down. His best guess? Seong Gi-hun.

Woo-seok and Jeong-rae had been following him like shadows—clumsy ones, attempting to blend in with the surroundings every time he stopped, as if they expected him to turn around and strike at any moment. And eventually, he did.

He had let them tail him, then to his surprise, they made the first move down an alleyway to avoid losing him. By the time they realized they had made a mistake, it was too late. He had taken them down quickly, efficiently, the way he always handled these things. No emotions, no hesitation.

Jeong-rae had gone down first, crumpled to the ground. Woo-seok tried to fight back with the poor attempt of using a small knife, but a sharp blow of the suitcase to his head had knocked him out.

Now, they were sitting across from each other, bound to chairs, tied up with ropes, their mouths gagged, their muffled groans filling the dimly lit room. They couldn’t scream, couldn’t beg—just incoherent muffled noises as they squirmed like trapped animals.

He slowly circled the two men, then stopped to place a hand on each of their shoulders, eyes filled with amusement at their looks of terror.

“We're going to play a game now... Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus One. I trust you know the rules.” his gaze flickered from Jeong-rae to Woo-seok, a smile forming on his lips.

“You form a shape with each hand, then take one away. The game is decided by the remaining hands. Of course, there’s a penalty for the loser.” he picked up the nearby revolver and inspected it, then pressed the barrel to his temple. “Russian Roulette.”

Their muffled protests grew louder, their bodies twisting against the ropes in a futile attempt to escape. The two men were shaking, their breaths heavy as he leaned closer, his finger on the trigger.

Click.

Empty.

His smirk widened as he backed away slowly.

“Alright. Now, let’s play. On my count.”

But then, as he was getting ready to spin the cylinder of the revolver, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

His brows furrowed, the interruption pulling him out of the carefully constructed moment. He pulled the phone out, and the sight of your name on the screen made him pause.

He froze for a moment, staring at the screen as his heart softened. It wasn’t like you to call him in the middle of the day. You knew he was busy—always busy. The ‘work’ he pretended to do required him to keep odd hours, to vanish without explanation, and you never questioned it. You trusted him. And he loved you for that trust, even if he didn’t deserve it.

His thumb hovering over the answer button before taking a deep breath and sliding his mask of indifference back into place. But when he answered, his voice betrayed him. It was warm, gentle—a tone he reserved only for you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, the edge it had carried a moment ago completely gone. He shot the two men a warning look, his eyes narrowing as if daring them to make a sound.

Turning away from them, his tone dropped into something almost tender. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Your voice came through the line, quiet and tinged with vulnerability. “I… I didn’t mean to bother you. I just… I’m not feeling well.”

He could hear the catch in your throat, the faint rasp. “Are you sick?” he asked, straightening.

There was a pause on your end, then a soft sniffle that nearly broke his heart. “Yeah. Just a cold, I think. My head hurts, and I’m all stuffed up.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a slow, steadying breath as guilt twisted in his chest. You sounded miserable, and he hated that he wasn’t there to take care of you. Hated that he was here, in this cold room, when he should’ve been home with you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I know you’re busy. I just… I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, his voice gentle but firm. “You can call me anytime, okay? I mean it. Anytime.”

There was a pause, and then he heard another sniffle on the other end. It made his chest clench. “Where are you?” you asked. “Are you coming home soon?”

He glanced down at Woo-seok and Jeong-rae, their wide, panicked eyes watching him like trapped prey. The revolver gleamed on the table beside him, a stark reminder of the life he led when he wasn’t with you.

For the first time all day, he felt a pang of guilt—not for them, but for you. For the life he kept hidden from you. You had no idea what he did, the darkness he waded through every day. And he wanted to keep it that way. You were his light, his one connection to something pure and good in a world full of shadows.

“Soon,” he promised, his voice softening even further. “I’ll be home soon."

You didn’t reply right away, but he could picture you nodding, your lips pressed into that small, tired smile you always gave him when you were sick. He could see you in his mind—wrapped in a blanket, your hair messy, your cheeks flushed from the fever.

“There’s soup in the fridge,” he added gently. “I made it this morning. Heat some up, okay? And the heating pad’s in the bottom drawer. You’ll feel better if you use it.”

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice tired.

“I love you,” he said, the word coming out more vulnerable than he intended.

“I love you too,” you replied, and he could hear the faint smile in your voice despite the cold.

His chest tightened at the sound of those words. He glanced away from the two men on the floor, his jaw clenching as he fought the sudden wave of emotion that threatened to rise. “Now go rest, my love. I’ll be home soon.” his voice was thick with sincerity.

When the call ended, the room was silent. He stared down at the phone in his hand, his mind still on you.

For a moment, he let himself imagine walking through the door of your shared apartment, dropping his keys on the counter, and finding you curled up on the couch. He’d press a kiss to your forehead, make sure you were warm, and hold you until you fell asleep. That was all he wanted.

But instead, he was stuck here.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned his attention to Woo-seok and Jeong-rae. His expression hardened once more. “Well,” he said. “Where were we?”

He reached for the revolver, spinning the cylinder with a practiced flick of his wrist. The sound echoed through the room, sharp and final.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “Loser gets to test their luck with this. Simple, right?”

He crouched down in front of them, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring their terror.

They shook their heads frantically, their breathing heavy, protests muffled by the gag. He sighed, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “You know,” he said, his voice almost casual. “I’d love to stay and play, but I’ve got someone waiting for me at home. So let’s not drag this out.”

Their muffled protests grew louder, but he didn’t care. This was his world. His game.

And when it was over, he’d go home to you. To the warmth of your love, the softness of your touch.

You didn’t know what he was. What he did. And he intended to keep it that way.

Because as long as you were safe, as long as you loved him, he could pretend—for just a little while—that he was someone worth loving.

[457gf]

the salesman yandere alphabet.

₊˚ʚ warnings : gun usage, physical abuse, implications of murder, manipulation, the salesman is so bad at consent and doesn't really care about it, salesman being a sociopath / having aspd, reader being referred to as 'pet', implications of suicide

꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ✦ Affection how do they show their love and affection? how intense would it get?

⟢ the salesman loves to show his affection for you, and if you're not a fan of pda, that's unfortunate for you. he's absolutely head over heels for you, and has been since he first saw you at that shitty station, head in your hands as you tried to cover your sniffles out of pure embarrassment of being in a public setting. when you finally looked up, catching eye contact together, you quickly tried to wipe your tears, hands shaking as you tried to ignore his staring gaze. you looked so pretty with tears streaming down your face, your nose red and eyes all puffy. he wasn't sure what had happened, but he decided from that moment on, he'd be the only one to make you cry.

he'd stalk you until he physically couldn't take the distance anymore and needed to be close to you and actually talk to you. his camera roll is full of nothing but photos of you in your home, out in public from afar, and even close up photos of your sleeping face. how'd he get in your room? don't worry about it. just don't remember to properly lock your window at night, or there will be a problem between you two. you don't want him thinking you don't love him, do you?

✦ Blood how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

⟢ the salesman loves to get bloody. it's his absolute favorite. he loves to dip his finger in the dripping puddle of blood, bringing it to his lips and tasting the iron flavor. there's nothing he wouldn't do for you, and that includes forcing whoever was behind you crying during your first meet to engage in one of his deadly games. he doesn’t necessarily like cheating, but he’d find a way to make sure they lost.

✦ Darling

aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? ⟢ he loves to give you affection, even when you’re telling him to get off. he thinks you’re just being hard to get, and he adores it. he’ll cup your cheeks in his palms, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips even if you push him away. he knows you’ll finally show your undying love him one day.

✦ Exposed how much of their heart do they bare to their darling? how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

⟢ he exposes what he can to you, though he’s not a big fan of being too vulnerable. you’re the only one that can truly make him feel certain emotions, which is quite unusual for him. he wouldn’t admit it, but part of the reason he’s so obsessed with you is because of what you do to his usually unwavering heart. he wants to pick you apart, and see why you’re so different from the rest.

✦ Fight how would they feel if their darling fought back?

⟢ he absolutely loves watching you try to fight back, because you both know there's absolutely no chance of you overpowering him. it just gives him an ego boost watching you cry and beg for him to let you go because you don't want to be here anymore. 'what a silly lie you're telling!', he thinks to himself. you want to be here. you love him. and he loves you!

✦ Game is this a game to them? how much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

⟢ the salesman absolutely loves watching you try to escape, as previously said. though he loves his games, he doesn’t view his love for you as one.

✦ Hell what would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

⟢ his relentless touch even if you’re uncomfortable. he doesn’t know when to stop, because he’s never been told no. as a kid, he was always given what he wanted and nothing but, in hopes of him showing a change of heart. but it never happened, which is a big reason for his lack of morals.

✦ Ideals what kind of future do they have in mind for / with their darling?

⟢ he really really wants to get married and have a future with you. he believes that if you’re there long enough, you truly will fall in love with him. he thinks that you’d be perfect to bear his offspring.

✦ Jealousy do they get jealous? do they lash out or find a way to cope?

⟢ he is absolutely one to get jealous. he knows that he’s much better then anyone you’ve ever come into contact with, so his feelings of jealousy are more so that they don’t even deserve to glance in your direction. though he only allows you outside occasionally, what you wear is completely up to him. a dress? nope. not gonna work. he’s the only one allowed to ogle your pretty body.

✦ Kisses how do they act around or with their darling?

⟢ the salesman is so affectionate with you, he absolutely loves cuddling up with you whilst you’re tied up, unable to move. he loves to give you kisses everywhere, even if you’re objecting to his advances. he loves to treat you like everything is completely normal, that you’re just a happy married couple. he’ll make you two breakfast, force you to sit on the sofa and watch stupid romcoms with him, and even rant to you about work as if you’re concerned about his troubles.. you are.. aren’t you? you love him, right?

✦ Love Letters how would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

⟢ after stalking you, learning your schedule, your likes, your dislikes, he’ll pretend to bump into you, starting up a conversation about something you’re into. if he’s being honest, he couldn’t really care less about it. though the smile on your face does make it worth it. he slowly tries to worm his way into your life, and after awhile, he figures that now is the perfect time to finally make you his. keeping you captive in his basement was a pretty good plan if he says so himself! (he does).

✦ Mask are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

⟢ it's no surprise that many people find the behavior of the salesman to be quite.. weird. his personality changes are drastic, and it truly just depends on how he's feeling. it's apart of the job, after all. though, when most people see him walking the street, a clean put together man, they wouldn't suspect him of having a tied up girl at home. hey, if it helps, he loves you very much! a special kind of 'love' that nobody else gets to see from him.

✦ Naughty how would they punish their darling?

⟢ he’s one to get physical, though he’s not too big of a fan, believe it or not. a slap or two to get you “under control”, or a threat to put a bullet through your head, or even his to guilt you.

✦ Oppression how many rights would they take away from their darling?

⟢ the salesman is used to treating people as if they’re lesser then him, and that strays no different from you. he does believe you’re better then other people, but he truly believes that you were created and put on this earth just for him. in his eyes, he has full control over you. every now and then, he allows you to go outside, though trying to escape would be unwise. he’s always got an arm thrown around your shoulder, and his signature grin as he nods at people walking by. they’re disgusting, he thinks, but at least he can show off his pretty pet. you need his direct permission before you do most things, and if you break that rule, you could expect a slap or two.

✦ Patience how patient are they with their darling?

⟢ he does his best to be patient with you, though he does wear thin sometimes. when he’s stressed, he’s not the best to be around.

✦ Quit if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

⟢ “and lately i’ve tried other things, but nothing can capture the sting.” is his mindset. he feels that the thrills in his games aren’t as exciting, the risks hardly existent for all he cares. if you died, he’d either ramp up the stakes to give him a higher chance of being with you, or simply take his anger out on everyone else.

if you left or escaped, there’s truly nothing that he wouldn’t do to find you. keep in mind, due to his work, he’s got loads of contacts all throughout the city. there’s not many places you can run without being found by him.

✦ Regret would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? would they ever let their darling go?

⟢ the salesman wouldn’t feel regret for abducting you. infact, he thinks that you should be grateful for him saving you from your boring life. he wouldn’t let you go.

✦ Stigma what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

⟢ ever since he was younger, he'd felt different from others. there were no emotions when a relative or someone he knew had passed away. he didn't grieve, he didn't mourn, he hardly even thought about it. the absence of emotions left people feeling uncomfortable around him, but he didn't mind. it's wasn't that he just didn't care about people's emotions, he just simply couldn't find himself to. his mother was always concerned, but it didn't bother him at all. in his eyes, this was normal and all that he'd known. there was nothing wrong with the way he was.

getting an invitation to be apart of the games as a guard was something he didn't expect, though it wasn't unwelcomed. working his way through the ranks, he got more intoxicated with power. being given a gun, holding the lives of people in his very hand, watching as they fell to their knees, begging to be spared, only to be met with a bullet piercing through their skin without any second thoughts whatsoever. it made him feel so strong, like he truly mattered in this world. he was doing good. he was getting rid of the worthless vermin that no longer served use to society. he was the one who decided who lived and died. it became an addiction.

his breaking point was when he was forced to hold a gun to his fathers forehead, feeling no guilt, regret, or uncertainty.

yeah. this was the job for him.

✦ Vice what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

⟢ feeding into his want of being loved would be a good way to try and escape. though it’s basic, getting him to trust your love and affection for him would allow him to loosen up more, giving you more freedom. he’d allow you to roam more, even trusting you to pick up sharp objects now for cooking or other activities. he still will keep the door tightly locked and guarded, though there might be other ways to escape..

✦ Wits End would they ever hurt their darling?

⟢ he wouldn’t do anything permanant to you. he has truthfully thought about it a few times when in fits of rage, but hasn’t acted upon it.

✦ Xoanon how much would they revere or worship their darling? to what length would they go to win their darling over?

⟢ you’re truly the only human that has ever made him feel his own fucked up version of love, so he adores you for that. there’s no doubt in his mind that you two don’t belong together. there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for your affection, even if it’s you slapping his face or kicking at him. to him, it’s all perfect.

✦ Yearn how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

⟢ probably a good few months. when he sees that you’re hanging around a certain man more often, touching him by even the slightest brush, and even just smiling in his direction, he snaps and decides it’s finally time for him to intervene.

✦ Zenith would they ever break their darling?

⟢ up to you, my darling reader. <3

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hii! could i have the salesman from squid game smut but like no violence or stuff, like shes his wife and just sort of domestic 😆 feel free to ignore❤️

mornings

A/N: ADORE RHIS.

WARNINGS: probably very ooc, but WHO CARES. fluffy mornings w/ him (:

As your eyes fluttered open, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the kitchen and into the room. You heard the chirps of birds coming from the outside, the window wide open.

You sat up, stretching with a sigh, then standing up, small smile on your face as you walked into the living room to be greeted by the sight of your husband, making two cups for the both of you.

He turned around when he heard the pitter-patter of feet on the floorboards behind him, his own smile gracing his face when he saw you.

“Goodmorning.” He spoke, you going up to him, wrapping your arms around his body. A light chuckle escaped his mouth, him embracing you as well.

“Morning.” You murmured against his shoulder. You both stayed comfortably like that for a moment, before you pulled away, furrowing an eyebrow at the coffee cups next to him.

He picked one cup up, handing it to you, and he grabbed the other.

“Alright, what’s going on?” You asked suddenly, him shrugging and pursing his lips. You took the cup from his hand, putting it to your lips.

“What do you mean?” He asked,

“I always wake up before you. You never make coffee.”

“Guess I just...” he paused to take a sip, “felt like it this morning. A guy can’t love his wife so much he makes her coffee, now?”

“Never said that.” You laughed, making your way over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down, him sitting opposite of you.

He stared at you, watching you drink it with a smile on his face. You didn’t notice his staring until you looked back up, a nervous laugh escaping you.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful.” He commented, your cheeks heating up at the compliment. Despite you hearing it for years from him, it felt the same as it always did, and always managed to cause butterflies in your stomach.

“You are.” You replied, him laughing now.

“Oh? Am I?” He asked, eyebrows raised at your comment, amused smile remaining on his face.

“Mhm.” You hummed, raising the cup to your lips once again, him doing the same with an amused shake of his head.

[fear-is-truth]

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝! 𝓢𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐍 . . . headcanons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[pixiexdusts-world]

The man behind the mask

The salesman x reader

He came home late again. His tie was askew, his shirt wrinkled, and his eyes carried that faraway look I’d grown used to but could never understand. I’d set the table hours ago, hoping for a quiet dinner together, but by the time he walked through the door, the food had gone cold.

“You’re late,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, though my chest felt heavy. “Busy day?”

He gave me the same smile he always did, that half-smile that felt like a shield. “You know how it is. Work never ends.”

I didn’t know how it was, though. He never talked about his job. All I knew was that he traveled often, wore impeccable suits, and occasionally came home with bruised knuckles. When I’d asked once, he’d brushed it off—“Just an accident.” I didn’t press. Some part of me didn’t want to know.

We ate in silence, the only sound the clink of chopsticks against our bowls. I watched him, trying to read his face. He looked tired, but it was more than that. There was something else there—something darker.

“You’ve been distant,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “Is everything okay?”

He paused mid-bite, then set his chopsticks down. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie. I could feel it. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” I said softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “I just need to know you’re safe.”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a crack in the mask he wore. “I promise,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll keep us safe.”

That night, I woke to the sound of him moving around the apartment. The faint rustle of bags being packed, the creak of the front door. I got up, my heart pounding, and found him in the living room, slipping on his shoes.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He turned to me, and for the first time, he looked scared. Not the calm, confident man I knew, but someone who seemed on the verge of unraveling.

“We have to leave,” he said, his voice urgent. “I can’t explain, but it’s not safe here anymore.”

My stomach dropped. “What do you mean? What’s happening?”

He stepped closer, cupping my face in his hands. “Trust me,” he said. “Just this once, don’t ask questions. Please.”

I wanted to argue, to demand answers, but the desperation in his eyes stopped me. I nodded.

We left in the middle of the night, the city lights fading behind us as he drove. I didn’t know where we were going, or what we were running from, but I stayed quiet. For now, I’d trust him.

But as I watched him grip the steering wheel, his knuckles white, I realized something: whatever he was running from wasn’t just about him. It was about me, too. And I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be ready to learn the truth.

A/n: should I write a part 2??

[aikonaishaa]

Since Gong Yoo's gaining popularity again can we please please please get more coffee prince fics of him I NEED my man CHOI HAN-KYULLL

[lilmarshie]

Dating the Salesman Yandere! HC’s

- The Salesman is obsessively attentive to your every need

- He thinks about you all the time and finds ways to be near you even if you’re supposed to be apart

- The Salesman is extremely possessive

- He is also jealous of anyone that gets too close to you

- He sees you as his and his alone

- The Salesman uses his charm and cunning to manipulate those around you

- Ensuring that you are loyal to him and not reliant on anyone else

- The Salesman subtly influences your decisions to keep you close

- His protective instincts are aggressive and overwhelming

- He constantly worries about your health and safety to an extreme

- The Salesman goes to great lengths to keep you out of harms way

- His devotion to you is unwavering

- The Salesman is willing to do anything for you believing that it’s for the good of your relationship

- He keeps a close watch on you through hidden surveillance cameras and spies keeping an eye on you

- The Salesman is good at emotional manipulation, using guilt, fear, and affection to manipulate you

- This makes you feel like you only need him to be safe

- The Salesman frequently makes grand gestures to profess his love and loyalty to you

- These acts are overwhelming and intense leaving you flattered and feeling trapped by his affection

- While he genuinely believes he is protecting and loving you, his actions can be harmful and suffocating.

- His love is a double-edged sword, filled with both passion and peril.

[cheekycheesecake01]

Okay yall, need some help. I'm making a sub!salesman x femdom!reader smut for all of you, and I'm gonna make him have a Freudian Slip. I'm stuck on what to make him say.

Much thanks!🫶🏻

[voxslays]

BELLY BULGE — SQUID GAMES MEN

GONG-YOO (THE SALESMAN)

✮ How many rounds has it been tonight? Your clouded mind can’t even recall. The only thing you can think of is the way Gong Yoo’s hips slam into yours.

✮ The salesman’s perfect hair is unusually messy tonight, soaked with sweat. You cant help but cry into the pillow as he places his hand on your stomach, feeling himself pump in and out of you.

✮ The enigmatic recruiter says nothing as he rams you into the softness of your shared bed. Just a little bit longer, you convince yourself, pleasure clouding your thoughts. Although, you know damn well he could keep going for hours.

✮ “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

THANOS (CHOI SU-BONG)

✮ “Such a pretty flower.” Thanos grunts as he roughly pumps his length in and out of your gummy walls. You couldn’t help but moan at the roughness in his voice.

✮ “Just a bit longer, Señorita.” Is what he had convinced you over forty five minutes ago. You weren’t sure how many more orgasms you could take from him tonight.

✮ Hearing your desperation, Thanos places his hand on your lower stomach and presses in, feeling himself. He groans at the sensation, deciding to pick up more speed. By the time Thanos is done with you, your thoughts are only filled with images of him.

✮ “A little longer, pretty flower.”

KANG DAE-HO

✮ It had only been two rounds. You were keeping count. Yet, you were surprised you could remember anything at all with the way Dae-ho’s slow and deep thrusts pierced your hole.

✮ His hands were roaming all over your body, telling you how beautiful you were—until he suddenly just stopped, his hand placed on your bulged tummy.

✮ Dae-ho slowly pumps out, just realizing what that bulge was, surprising both you and himself. He groans. “Let’s go for a couple more, okay baby?” He says sweetly, grabbing your hips gently. His hand was still placed on your tummy, and it would stay there.

✮ “You feel so good, baby.”

[vrystalius]

hiii there, i was wondering if we please get some more recruiter/salesman cutesy stuff?? you’re such a good writer (love your work) and we do NOT have enough fics of him being an enamoured wife guy on this app. thank you <3 😔

Secret Love Notes.

You keep slipping small love notes into all his pockets and suitcases to remind him that his wife loves him no matter what.

Pairing: Recruiter/Gong Yoo x wife!reader

Summary: You leave small love notes all over for him to find and he cherishes every single one of them.

Words: 0.7k, short and sweet!

Genre: fluff <33

Your husband never admits it out loud to you, but he notices how you slip little love notes into his pocket when folding up the laundry or when packing him a bento box. They have cute little encouragements and affirmations written on them along with some doodles of you two together, holding hands, kissing and whatnot.

You think you’re being sneaky by crouching a little when approaching his coat hung up by the entrance, stuffing a small folded note into his chest pocket.

Whenever he is about to go out the door, you hand him his leather suitcase and a colourful bento box you packed for him. Once you found out Gong Yo only plain loaves of bread or sometimes even nothing at all, you always insisted on packing some food for him so your poor husband can eat something home cooked every day.

Even if the box doesn’t match his aesthetics, he savours every bite and would never shy away from letting out a loud hum of content.

Gong Yoo sat comfortably on a wooden bench by the metro station, well aware of the two mobsters following him the whole day, but who cares?

He leisurely opened up the bento box. His face brightened up at the sight of another small love letter presented to him.

“Keep it up! You’re going great ♡ Your wife loves you ~ ☆ “

Accompanied by your sweet words was a chibi doodle of you doing a heart with your index finger and thumb and him as a chibi too, holding a pair of chopsticks and giving you a wink. He chuckled quietly to himself and folded the note to keep it in his pocket by his heart.

Once, after successfully recruiting a new player, Gong Yoo handed the confused and wounded man your love note with a confident smirk. That man was lucky to have escaped the games but was kind of confused on why a handsome looking salesman gave him a love letter that reminded him to “stay hydrated!! ☆ (drinking coffee doesn’t count >:( )”

He tries to leave behind as many love notes as you lovingly prepare for him, but his doodles were kind of wonky and presented you in a rather disturbing light.

Sticking to his trusty craft of origami your husband instead began leaving small paper roses for you to find as a way to leave his own love messages.

A paper rose in the fridge, in the pocket of your jacket, in your bag and on your pillow; they change colours based on the day too. Blue and red are the most frequent and popular ones though for some reason. Probably because those are the only kinds of coloured paper he owns.

After every day you leave letters behind for him, Gong Yoo always tries to come home on time to properly thank you for them. Pampering you is his favourite activity, meaning you get banned from the kitchen and forcibly made comfortable on your bed or couch with cushions and blankets to keep you warm and cozy.

To return the favour of you preparing bento for him, he’ll cook you a fine dinner that could rival that of high-end restaurants. Afterwards, he’ll make himself comfortable right next to you to plant well deserved kisses all over your face and body and let his hand travel over your body freely, tracing invisible patterns.

A man like him should not be holding a woman like you, that’s what he’s always thinking. You are way too good for him, too gentle, kind, loving, too much of everything good.

“I love you. More than letters or silly paper roses can convey. Allow me to demonstrate just how much I love my wife, hmm?”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

The amount of smut and non-con about this man is INSANE, I just need to live my silly life as a wife with him where we snuggle on the couch like a boring cuddle every night and then go to sleep while he read a book and I knit like grandparents 🫶😭 Anyways, hope you enjoyed it anon!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[n0vation]

Are you ugly? Quite the opposite. Salesman x reader

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

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

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

══✿═══✿════╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞════✿════✿══

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

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

Now you were waiting on a corner counting the seconds.

3 , 2 ,1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌

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

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

Then black out.

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

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

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

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

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

"So, are you ugly?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uneven eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uneven eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uneven eyes.

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

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

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

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

[catchastarorten]

—100 loaves of bread.

Pairing: the salesman/recruiter x bakeryowner!fem!reader

Summary: it started with a few visits from him buying 100 loaves of bread each time from your little bakery, but overtime the two of you started to get familiar, little did you know about his ‘work’ and how he should’ve given the card to you but didn't...

Content: fluff, aggressive stomping on bread, him having a soft spot for you, trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care about you (it doesn’t work lol), a bit of reader's backstory, self-conflict and a bit of change of heart from him, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 2.1k

You were wiping down the counter when the familiar chime of the bell above the door jingled. It was late in the afternoon, and the bakery was quiet, except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint scent of freshly baked bread and sugar lingering in the air. You glanced up, already knowing who it was. He was here again—the man with the sharp suit and the briefcase who bought bread in quantities that always left you baffled.

“Afternoon,” you said, watching as he walked in with the same calm, measured way as always. He almost looked too friendly for someone who carried himself so formally.

“Afternoon,” he replied, stepping up to the counter and resting his briefcase at his feet. “I’ll need the usual. A hundred loaves.”

A hundred loaves of bread. It was such a ridiculous request, and yet, he never failed to make it.

You’d asked him once, early on, what on earth he did with all that bread. Selling it somewhere else for a profit? Feeding a small army? Storing up for an apocalypse? He had only smiled at you then, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and said, “Something like that.”

It had been weeks since his first visit, and by now, the routine was familiar. You’d load loaf after loaf into paper bags while he stood patiently, sometimes asking about your day, sometimes quietly observing the modest little bakery. Today, though, you felt compelled to ask again.

“Are you sure you want all of it?” you asked, sliding the first bag across the counter. “That’s… a lot of bread.”

He smiled faintly, reaching for the bag and setting it beside him. “You ask me that every time.”

“Well, it’s not everyday someone comes in and buys out half my stock,” you said, tilting your head. “It makes me curious.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed like he might answer—really answer. But then he only shrugged slightly, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “Let’s just say it goes to good use.”

You frowned, unsatisfied but unwilling to press further. He always paid in cash, crisp bills that he counted out with precision. You noticed, as you often did, that he never left without dropping a generous tip into the glass jar by the register. He offered you a warm look as he slipped a few bills into the tip jar again.

“Keep up the good work,” he said. “Your bread’s the best in the city.”

You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or suspicious. He seemed genuine, but there was something about him—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Still, it wasn’t your place to pry. You handed him the last of the bags, and he left with the same polite nod as always.

The next time he came in, it wasn’t for a hundred loaves of bread.

You were behind the counter again, rearranging a tray of pastries, when you heard the door chime. Glancing up, you saw him standing there, his briefcase nowhere in sight.

“Not the usual today?” you asked, half-teasing.

He smiled slightly, stepping up to the counter. “Not today. I was thinking I’d try something different.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

He scanned the display case, his eyes lingering on a slice of strawberry shortcake near the center. “That,” he said, pointing.

You wrapped up the slice for him, and when you handed it over, he didn’t leave right away. Instead, he took a seat at one of the small tables by the window—a seat no one ever seemed to take—and unwrapped the cake with a kind of deliberate care. You watched, unable to help yourself, as he took a bite.

“It’s good,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Really good.”

A flicker of amusement crossed your face as you watched him eat. He wasn’t as neat as you’d expected—a bit of whipped cream ended up on the corner of his mouth, and he licked it away absentmindedly, his gaze drifting to the shelves of decorative knick-knacks you’d lined the walls with.

“I never really noticed these before,” he said, gesturing toward a small ceramic cat perched on one of the shelves. “Did you make them?”

You shook your head. “No, those were my parents’. They used to run this place before me. They had a thing for collecting stuff like that.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s nice. Feels… homey.”

You didn’t know why, but his words left you oddly self-conscious. The bakery had always been your parents’ dream, not yours, and while you’d taken it over out of necessity, you’d never thought much about how it felt to anyone else. But hearing him say it was homey made you feel a faint sense of pride.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

He stayed longer than usual that day, finishing his cake and ordering a coffee to go with it.

You found yourself talking to him more than you normally would with a customer. He asked about the bakery, about your favorite thing to bake, about whether you’d ever considered expanding. You didn’t ask about him—not directly—but you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man he was.

By the time he left, it was dark outside, and the bakery was empty except for you. As you locked up for the night, you found yourself thinking about his smile, the way it lingered even after he was gone.

One day, as he was paying for a loaf of sourdough, he looked at you, his head tilting slightly. “Do you ever think about getting out of here?” he asked.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… this place is great, but don’t you ever wonder what else is out there?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought about it—leaving, starting fresh somewhere new—but the bakery was all you’d ever known. It was safe, familiar. And after your parents passed, it felt like the only thing that tethered you to them.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But I don’t know. This place… it’s home.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, there was a silence between you. Then he smiled again, that warm, almost disarming smile, and slid an extra bill across the counter. “For the tip jar,” he said.

You watched as he walked out the door, his briefcase in hand, and wondered—for the hundredth time—what kind of life he led.

...

The bell above the bakery door chimed familiarly.

He stepped inside, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket, his polished demeanor there as always. But inside, his stomach churned. He had made a decision today—a decision that, for once, made him feel something like guilt.

He scanned the shop. You were at the counter, hands dusted with flour as you arranged freshly baked rolls on a tray. The soft glow of the afternoon light spilling through the window caught on your hair, and the faintest smile tugged at your lips when you saw him. That smile… It was a problem.

“Afternoon,” you said, just as you always did. Your voice was warm, even though he could see the slight tiredness beneath it. That smile didn’t reach your eyes as much these days, but you still tried, didn’t you?

He nodded, keeping his face neutral. “Afternoon.”

You weren’t supposed to matter to him. That was the rule. He had a job to do, a system to uphold, and people like you—drowning in debt—were just part of the equation. It shouldn't have mattered how good-hearted you were, how hardworking you were.

You weren’t special... at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

He first started coming to your bakery for convenience, but as time passed, the lines started to blur. The bread looked good, better than most places in this part of the city, and you didn’t ask too many questions.

The loaves weren’t for eating, of course. They were for a little ‘social experiment’.

“Bread or lottery?” That’s what he’d ask them—the desperate, homeless souls he scouted in the park. It was always the same. He’d hold out a loaf in one hand, a lottery scratcher in the other. The bread could fill their stomachs. But the lottery ticket? That promised a chance. A gamble. A way out.

They always chose the ticket. Every time.

He knew what came next. The moment they realized it wasn’t a winning ticket after all. They’d just stared at him, some cursed out loud, some were just disappointed, their hopes bleeding out onto the pavement.

And the bread? He destroyed it. Stomped it into the ground until it was unrecognizable, crumbs scattering across the concrete.

It was dramatic, yes, but it served its purpose. It showed them the choice that they had made, the food that they had thrown away and destroyed, not him. It was necessary. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But the bread came from you.

That detail had started to bother him more and more. You put your heart into every loaf, every pastry, every crumb that came out of your oven. He saw it in the way you worked, the way you carefully packed the loaves into paper bags for him, the way you smiled when he left a tip. He had started tipping more, as if that would excuse him of the guilt of what he was doing with your work—it didn’t.

He had been keeping tabs on you. He knew about your debts, the ones you and your brother had racked up trying to keep the bakery afloat after your parents passed. He knew how hard you worked to stay above water, how you barely made enough to cover the bills some months.

You were exactly the kind of person he was supposed to recruit.

He told himself that’s why he started coming more often. He needed to assess you, to figure out the right moment to offer you the card. But the truth was, he liked being in the bakery. He liked the smell of fresh bread and sugar, the hum of the old refrigerator, the quiet way you moved behind the counter. He liked your voice when you asked him how his day was going, even though he never answered honestly.

And he hated himself for liking any of it.

The card was in his pocket today. He had been carrying it around for a while now, waiting for the right moment.

Today, he had decided, would be the day. After all, you deserved it, right? The games were brutal, yes, but they were also fair. A chance for people like you to escape the crushing weight of debt.

That’s what he told himself as he walked into the bakery. But when you looked up at him, your flour-dusted hands resting on the counter, and said, “So, what are you getting today?”—he froze.

He could feel the card in his pocket, its edges pressing against his fingers. All he had to do was pull it out, slide it across the counter, and say the words. But he couldn’t do it. Not to you.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “I’ll take another slice of that cake,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

You looked over to the display. “The strawberry one?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his finger gently tapping the display glass that caged all the pastries. “It’s… good.”

You smiled faintly, wrapping up the slice and handing it to him. “Anything else?”

He hesitated, the card burning a hole in his pocket. But then your eyes met his, and something in them—something warm, something real—made his resolve crumble.

“No,” he said softly. “That’s all.”

As he ate the cake at the small table by the window again, he told himself that letting you go was the right thing to do. You didn’t belong in the games. You didn’t belong in his world. And yet, he felt something close to longing as he watched you work behind the counter, your movements quick and precise, your expression focused.

For the first time in a very, very long time, he felt human.

When he left the bakery that day, he slipped a few extra bills into the tip jar. He told himself it was just another gesture, another way to balance the scales. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough to make up for what he did—what he was.

And yet, he didn’t offer you the card. He didn’t bring it the next time he visited, or the time after that. He told himself he’d do it eventually, that it was inevitable. But the truth was, he didn’t have the heart to drag you into the darkness he inhabited every day.

You weren’t like him. And he wanted—no, needed—to keep it that way.

[free-for-all-fics]

Quick random thought/Prompt about The Recruiter from Squid Game. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by this and I’d love to read it! 🔴🔺🟥

You’re a foreign exchange student or otherwise a foreigner (American, Canadian, European, whatever kind of foreigner you want to imagine) who is living in South Korea to study abroad. You speak Korean fluently or close enough to fluently so there’s little to no language barrier and you can get around. Everything is going well for you. College is great, your friends are awesome, you keep in contact with your family back home. But then something unexpected and out of your control happens that leaves you without anywhere to live. For whatever reason, living in a dorm on college campus is not an option for you and/or you lose access to your apartment. Your friends try to help you by giving you money and offering to let you couch surf at their places for a while, but they can’t offer their own places to you for very long nor indefinitely, only temporarily for whatever reasons they have. You’re either too proud or too embarrassed or a combination of both to call your family to ask them for money because you know they’ll probably just worry and say it’s a sign and push for you to come home prematurely and finish college in a local university or online, even if they were initially supportive of your decision to study abroad in South Korea. It’s dangerous for a woman to walk or travel alone, and yet you moved to a different country where you don’t know anybody. But you know most parents just naturally worry about their children all the time, even in adulthood. It’s not just yours.

Though it’s extremely difficult, you learn to adapt and find ways to get by for a while so you can still work and attend college by using public transport like the subway and taxis to get to your university and back, and utilize public places and services to do your laundry, take showers, get food, etc. You’re just a woman with just one suitcase or one duffle bag and a backpack. You’re practically living a nomadic-esque life on the streets or under a bridge when you’re not attending your college classes, moving from place to place to evade police and thieves and such. Or maybe you’re eventually caught sleeping in your workplace after hours and get fired as a result because the money you’ve saved up plus the money you make from your now former job isn’t enough for a new apartment at the moment. Whatever the circumstances for your misfortunes are, you end up hanging out and sleeping in Tapgol Park most of the time when you’re not attending school. You don’t tell your friends about your living situation because you don’t want to burden them. They’ve already helped you enough and you don’t want them to worry, so you lie and say you’ve found a place to stay.

One day, The Recruiter approaches you in Tapgol Park after your classes are over and holds out a bread roll and a lottery ticket, asking you to pick one or the other. He speaks to you in English, no doubt noticing you’re not a native Korean. He’s not the first person to do this to you and he won’t be the last. You’re used to it. When you speak to him in practically fluent Korean instead of English, his surprise quickly turns back to his original expression of mostly neutral with just a touch of smugness. It’s so quick that if you blinked, you would’ve missed it.

(Maybe unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s seen you. Maybe he’s seen you around Jonggak Station or other Korean subway stations without you ever noticing him and has been keeping tabs on you ever since even though he doesn’t intend on recruiting you for the games. No matter what line you use to ride the subway, he’s conveniently where you are or going the same way you are. While he’s a stranger to you, he knows all about you. Maybe he speaks English to secretly test you to see if he can use the potential language barrier against you to gaslight and manipulate you by acting as your friendly and helpful Korean “translator” so you’ll heavily rely on him for help, but that Plan A backfires when he realizes how knowledgeable and proficient you are in the language, so he thinks to himself how he’ll have to come up with a Plan B. He knows based on his research, you’re a college student who studied Korean, but he underestimated you and how far along you got in your studies.)

He keeps his hands with the bread and lottery ticket outstretched towards you, repeating his request for you to pick one - the bread or the lottery - in Korean this time. You look between the two for a few seconds and, you’re not sure why but, instead of picking either, you look back up at him and ask if you can pick a third option instead. The heat from the sun beating down on you must be getting to you and fogging your brain for you to be feeling this extremely bold. You feel like you have nothing to lose today because, when he looks at you in confusion and asks what you mean by that, you just say, “I pick you,” and grab him by his tie to pull him down to your level and in for a kiss. You’re not sure what fucking demon or spirit possessed you or what the hell you were thinking when you did it. Call it an impulsive decision or whatever, but you don’t have time to question your sanity before you feel him kissing you back. He even drops what he’s holding to wrap his arms around your waist, hips, or neck and keep you in place as he pulls you closer. Wait, what? He’s actually kissing you back and seems really into it. Okay. An unexpected reaction from him. You weren’t expecting him to reciprocate, let alone this enthusiastically. You were half expecting him to push you away and ask what the hell you thought you were doing since, you know, you kinda assaulted him. But he doesn’t seem to mind or care that much about your assault. Okay. Maybe you can work with this. The first thing you noticed about him was that he was incredibly tall and handsome, after all. The light from the sun shining behind him made him look heavenly. Almost like an angel.

He surprises you again when he offers his house for you to live in while you study, claiming that it’s too big and there’s too many rooms for just him. You know your survival instincts are screaming at you to say no and politely turn him down because hello?? You just met this guy and know nothing about him. You know his offer sounds too good to be true and that there’s bound to be some catch. Nobody does something as generous as opening their house to a stranger without expecting something in return. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man to just let you freeload off of him out of the goodness of his heart. You know damn well he seems like an angel but could be a devil in disguise. But you also know you’re desperate and can’t keep going on like how you have been. You have a feeling he knows that too. Whatever. That’s a problem for future you. Current you needs a place to stay. Whatever the price is for having a roof over your head, a warm bed to sleep in, and meals in your stomach that aren’t just cheap convenience store food, you’ll pay it.

He takes you home with him and you’re not ready for how lavish his place is. It has everything you could dream of and more. It even has more than one level and an elevator. Though all of the black furniture, flooring, and decor in his house is a little intimidating and off-putting, you admit it is stylishly done even if it reminds you too much of the inside of a coffin or death. But he’s right. It is too big for just him. But he doesn’t even have any pets. Why not? He clearly has the space and money for them. Does he not like animals? It must be a pain in the ass to clean and maintain his house, unless he has people who do it for him. Is that what he wants you to do? Act as his maid to earn your bed and meals? Or does he want something else from you? The thought that he wants sexual favors from you as payment crossed your mind when he first offered to let you stay with him, but that didn’t creep you out or deter you from accepting as much as you thought it would. If that’s the case, you think exactly like you did before: He’s tall and he’s handsome. He looks to be in his late thirties at least. Maybe even his early or mid forties. Even if he’s so many years older than you, you look at him and think he’s almost got a DILF thing going on, even though he doesn’t have kids. He looks like he works out and you think he probably has got amazing arms and shoulder muscles despite his suit making him look deceptively slender.

Does he reveal his unhinged side like what we saw in Season 2 or does he keep up the polite facade we saw in season 1? Or maybe you’re in a Jekyll and Hyde situation where he treats you like a princess and fucks you like a whore or vice versa and treats you like a whore but fucks you like a princess. Maybe he can flip flop between his two personas at any given moment and it sometimes feels like you’re tiptoeing around glass or dealing with an unpredictable ticking time bomb and you have to think carefully about how you’re gonna get through these outbursts and moods of his relatively unscathed. He loves games of all kinds, especially the ones with high risks and high rewards. And he wants to play with you. He has so many fun toys he could use on you. Toys for him could mean actual sex toys or literal weapons.

Whatever happens after that is up to you.

Whether or not you know about his darker side and/or the games and what he actually does for work to make his money and sustain his luxurious way of living, imagine he never kills himself while playing Russian Roulette with Gi-hun. Imagine sometime in the future, you’re married and have a child together. When your child is born, a lot of color is added to the house. Toys, your child’s room, picture books, their clothing, etc. is colorful because you and he both know that babies need a lot of color and other visual stimuli to aid in their development. You’ve watched him read to your baby and point to the pictures to teach them basic nouns like animal or object names or hold up paper ddakji tiles and flash cards of different shapes in front of them to teach them what colors and shapes are. A red circle, a blue square, a green triangle, a yellow star, a purple umbrella, etc. He maintains his love of games too, but the ones he plays with your child are obviously normal, child-friendly and age-appropriate games from both your home country and Korea, like Gong-gi.

“My turn!” Your child grabs the colorful plastic stones in their small fist and throws one in the air as they try to catch the others.

“What would my father say?” Your husband asks you as he sits across from them on the floor.

“That you’re building a very solid friendship with your child.”

He may or may not have told you about his past and how his father really died.

“No, darling. You've dropped a stone so you have to start over.”

“No!” Your child loves that word ever since they learned it. You’ve been trying to break them out of that habit, but it’s still funny sometimes.

“Don't be so mean. Let them continue from the stage they were at.”

He playfully glares at you. “It won't be very helpful later on if we don't teach our child how to lose.”

“Go ahead and cry, darling. Make Appa feel guilty.”

“Don’t encourage them!”

“Oh, hurry up, Appa! It's your turn!”

He takes the stones in his hand and throws them down on the floor, throws one in the air, then picks up one at a time to start the game anew. Both you and your child watch in awe as he clears all of the stages effortlessly, even the flip at the end. He’d never admit it out loud, but he loves the sparkle in your child’s eyes as they watch him like he’s a superhero or something.

Throughout the years you’ve known him, you’ve never, ever, ever seen your husband cry. Not once. Not even on your wedding day or when your child was born and he held them for the first time or on their 100th day celebration. But then, when your child is three years old, he lays out a fountain pen, a bill of 50,000 won from his briefcase, and their favorite toy in front of them. He wants to see which one they will pick. When you ask what he’s doing, he tells you that a lot of Korean people do this with their toddlers. It represents what you'll value most when you grow up. The fountain pen is intelligence, the money is, well, money, and the toy is fun. He says he’s just doing it out of curiosity and boredom. It’s interesting for him to see which one your child will pick anyway. You watch as your child just sits there and stares at the items. He sits across from them and waits patiently. They crawl towards the objects, he holds his breath, and they push everything aside and push themselves up on their feet so they can waddle right into his arms instead. He didn't realize that he was one of the choices. And that’s the first, and possibly the only time you see your husband cry. Through his tears, he makes a teasing comment to you about how your child definitely takes after you because, like you, when he gave them a choice, they instead picked a different option that he never even considered.