Squid Game Salesman - Blog Posts

He’s so crazy I can’t take him anywhere 🤪

THIS IS SO AMAZING!!

Throws this in your inbox and flees

five times I wanted to stop working on this and finish it the next day. I don't like how the background came out but it's not bad so

welp. pls reblog?

I NEED GI HUN X F! READER PLEASEEEEEE

There’s barely anything for him:((

It can be literally anything but rn I’m craving comfort so maybe Gi Hun comforts his girl when she starts crying and she can’t really explain what’s wrong

Comfort | Seong Gi-hun x reader

Pairing: Seong Gi-hun x fem!reader

Summary: You knew that hunting down the salesman was going to be difficult, but after everything that you've been through in the games alongside Gi-hun, sometimes everything feels like it's going to suffocate you. Luckily, he's always there for you.

Warning/s: angst, hurt/comfort, a little fluff, short fic, just two traumatized people trying to heal each other, PTSP (talking about the games), death, tears, sadness, depressed atmosphere, cigarette addiction, cursing (?), mourning, guns, hunting down the salesman, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: So I finally got out of the writer's block, and I found some spare time, so I finally sat down to write. I gave it my best shot. I hope you like it! More to come.

Being his friend was easy. Being in love with him was even easier.

Once the games came around, everything became more complicated. I simply never thought that something like this was going to happen. Working in a job position that I did never brought me much money. Sure, it was enough to bring some food on my table and to cover the bills, but it wasn't anything big. However, once I found myself drowning in debt, I found myself in a horrific situation with no way out.

The money that I earned was not enough for respectable food, I couldn't pay my landlord for a few months, and I was a few weeks away from being kicked out on the streets. Not to mention the debt for which it seemed like I never paid enough to get out of. I thought moving back to Korea would somehow help me at least to escape the loan sharks and pay for necessary things, but I couldn't imagine how wrong I would be.

That's when I met him. The Salesman. Playing the ddakji with him for some money earned me some food for that night, but it also gave me an opportunity of a lifetime. It was an opportunity that I now know I would have never taken if I had known what was waiting for me out there once I called the number at the back of the card that he gave me.

Before the first game, I saw him. My old childhood friend Seong Gi-hun. Up until I saw him, I came to a realization about just how much I missed him.

Truth to be told, I have always felt something more than friendship for him ever since I was I kid. At first, I brushed it off, but when I entered my teenage years, I realized that I really loved him.

I had to move away when I was twenty years old. I haven't seen him ever since. I only heard a few snippets about his life during the years I spent away from Korea. I heard that he had a, now ex, wife, and a daughter.

It was his mother who called me. She used to watch over me sometimes when we were kids, and since I was her son's best friend back then, we kept in touch over the years. It was nice, to be honest. Up until the day that she called me for a regular check-up. I had just gotten off of work after a really bad day. I had just sat down by the kitchen counter when I heard my phone ringing. The entire time I was on a call with her, she sounded strange. Kind of nervous, maybe even a bit disappointed. After a while I couldn't take it anymore and when I asked her what was wrong she told me the joyful news.

"Gi-hun is getting married."

I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was suffocating. I somehow forced myself to finish the phone call, trying to sound as happy as I could, considering that the love of my life was marrying another. A few years later, he got a daughter, and I soon heard about the divorce. I tried calling him multiple times to check on him. He never answered.

We reconnected during the games. During the bloodshed. During the pain. During the tears. During the final game, where it was down to Sangwoo, him and I. After Sangwoo died, I knew I couldn't kill him. He couldn't either. After the stunt that we pulled, we survived. We were about to kill ourselves, we truly were, but then at the last second, just as the knife had scraped the surface of my neck, they announced two winners.

After that, I realized that I couldn't live without him. I didn't have a family, didn't have any friends. His mother died, and his daughter moved with her mother and stepfather to America he lost his family, too. We were everything to each other. We still are.

As the months, years, passed, we set ourselves on a mission of finding the salesman.

At first, we didn't touch the money covered with the invisible blood. We couldn't bring ourselves to do so, but when we realized that we may have a shot at taking down the games, we used the money only for that sole purpose.

The first thing we did was to pay off our debts. Then together we bought the love hotel called "Pink Motel" in Seoul. The sign outside was always tured off. We decided to buy it so we could live there and now we also use it as headquarters while tracking down the salesman. Which was always.

That was currently our only purpose in life right now.

After we figured out our plan, we started to work with the loan sharks that were chasing us because of our debts. We paid them to find the salesman, and they were searching relentlessly.

Our mental health hasn't been all that great either.

Both Gi-hun and I have developed a cigarette addiction. Sometimes all we did was breath in the intoxicating smoke instead of air. In a strange way it helped me breath. I wasn't so nervous anymore. My hands shook less.

Gi-hun has nightmares. Every single night. I have them, too, but not that frequently. He had a gun next to his nightstand. I had mine under the pillow. It brought a sense of comfort that was always short-lived.

The nightmares kept us up all night, and because of them, we couldn't find any rest even during the daytime. It was always the people we lost on that cured island. Sangwoo... Sae-byeok... Ali... The images of our friends dead never left my brain. And neither did Gi-hun's. Other times, we dreamt that we're still playing the games. Us dying. Each other dying. The Frotman. The salesman.

It was too much.

I was just monitoring the room where our most trusted men were practicing. I didn't realize when it had happened, but I fell asleep. I guess all those sleeping pills that Boss Kim gave to Gi-hun and me finally caught up to me.

I felt trapped. Gi-hun... he was dying in front of me during the squid game. I couldn't do anything about it. I held him, covered in his blood, crying, screaming, curing at the sky for the misfortune we had to live. Cursing the makers of the game. Cursing the Frontman. Cursing the pink guards that just stood there and did nothing. Cursing the world.

Hands.

They were shaking my shoulders.

My name.

It was uttered from the lips of the man that I would die for.

My eyes snapped open, meeting Gi-hun's worried ones. Once he realized that I was awake, his face visibly relaxed, relief washing over him as I heard him let out a sigh, his head and shoulders hung downwards.

"A nightmare again?" He asked me as he brought his hand up to my cheeks, whipping away the tears that I didn't know fell, but also wasn't surprised that they did.

"I-I can't-" I sobbed, unable to form a sentence as he quickly brought me in his arms, drowning me in his chest.

"Shhh..." He whispered as he ran his hand down my hair as I cried against his neck, drowning his black shirt with my tears, "I'm here. You're okay."

"Yo-You w-were-" I stuttered, tears streaming down my cheeks, "You were dying, and I-I couldn't s-save y-you."

For a moment, there was just quiet in the room. Neither spoke. The only thing breaking the silence of our bedroom were my cries.

"Do you know why I never answered your phone calls after you found out about the divorce?" He asked me, his voice low, but soft with comfort. His sudden question about that topic surprising me a bit, "Do you know why my mother told you about it instead of me? The wedding, the divorce?"

"No."

"It was because I didn't want to face the fact that I was the cause of your misery." He whispered, still softly running his hand through my hair, my cries slowly dying down as I listened to him speak.

"I have always loved you and I knew that I hurt you with my decision even though I never wanted that to happen. I just tried to forget about you, I never knew that I could actually be with you." He sighed, "I thought that it would be the best for you. I didn't deserve you, I'm not even sure I still do." He chuckled softly.

"But even though I may not deserve you, I will never stop fighting for you and your happiness. You are my everything, and I would be damned if I ever let you feel any sort of pain." He lifted my chin with his hand as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, our lips almost meeting each other's, "We will find him and end this, but for now, how about I make you some tea and we get you to bed huh, my love? What do you say?"

-

-

-

@shadow-tumbler

Bro is majestic

You can read the prequel to this fic here!!

Russian Roulette | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After doing everything in your power to find the salesman who got you and Gi-hun into all this mess, he unexpectedly shows up in your motel room.

Warning/s: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!!, angst, unspoken feelings (until now), guns, playing Russian Roulette, threatening, mocking, blood, character death, cursing (maybe, idk), tears, talk about the games, tension, reader gives off femme fatale energy, also reader has longer hair to fit into a braid but if you don't just ignore it please, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I just watched the first few episodes, and for a little while, I got out of the writers block. NO SPOILERS, PLEASE!

Prequel to this fic here!

Rain was pouring down like crazy, wind blowing around as I drove my black car with full speed as I tried to get to the Pink Motel that Gi-hun and I co-owned as fast as I possibly could after today's events. Gun that was placed on the seat next to me was jumping slightly as I drow down the road every time I hit a bump or such. My left hand gripped the steering wheel til my knuckles turned pure white as my right hand gripped the phone to the same extent.

"I found bloodstains there!" I practically shouted into my phone as I came to a stop, the images of blood seeping down the trash bags and the knife thrown on the ground never really leaving my mind. "Gi-hun is still looking, I'm sure they didn't get far from that alley."

"What do we do, miss?"

"Check all the CCTV and dashcam footage you can collect from the area and keep asking around." I continued to practically shout for him to hear me over the rain on the street, my braid swinging over on my left shoulder as I got out of the car, running towards the entrance to the Pink Motel.

"I'll join you soon." And with that, I ended the call, quickly putting my phone in the left pocket of my jacket.

I roughly pulled loose threads of hair that fell on my eyes as I quickly took out the key. However, I came to a sudden stop. Something wasn't right. I found myself freezing as I slowly moved my head to look around. That's when I noticed. The sign of the Pink Motel was lit up.

Someone is here, and they want me to know that.

I stood there in the rain for a little while before I decided to take a deep breath before entering. I walked up all the way to the fourth floor before entering, the light going on as I did. I walked into my bedroom as quietly as I could. But even before I could prepare myself for what I was about to see, just as I walked to the end of the first corner, I saw him.

After three years of endlessly, tirelessly trying to find him, he was here. Right in front of me. He was standing in front of my wall, a shining black gun in his hand, looking at the calendar on which I crossed the dates with red marker every single day for three years. Next to in was a map of the underground, every single route mapped out, drawn on, and my handwriting shone on it to.

"It's been a long time, Miss."

For a while, I said nothing. I was just standing there, soaking wet, the rain that I took with me inside dripping on the floor. I was staking in his appearance for a moment. He was just as tall as I remember, standing there in his suit. For a moment, it seemed like he didn't change one bit, like nothing changed from the moment that I fist saw him on the train station three years ago.

But it did.

His hair was longer, I won the games alongside Gi-hun, we weren't on the train station, but in my Motel room, he wasn't holding a briefcase, he was holding a gun and I didn't.

But his voice was the same, he was still as tall as I remember, I suppose his smile was the same, too. And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same feelings he did three years ago before I gained and lost it all.

I just sighed and moved towards the table I ate. There was a towel that I threw last night. I started to pat my hair, trying to dry it off as I looked around for some dry clothes.

"You should've gotten on that plane that day." He said, looking over at me as I paused.

"I changed my mind when I saw you there." I said before continuing to dry myself.

The moment of quiet continued as I put the towel away. He tapped the map with his gun before he started to speak again. I truly didn't know how to feel. After I wasted three years trying to find him, he just shows up at my motel room. Funny.

"It looks like you've been trying hard to find me, darling." I could just hear that ignorant smirk in his voice. Motherfucker.

"Don't let it get to your head." I told him slowly, my voice completely calm. "I just wanted to thank you." I said as I took off my wet jacket, throwing it in the corner.

"Thank me?" He asked as he sat down on one of the sofas by the table next to my bed. I turned to look at him slowly, a dry jacket in my hand. That's when I noticed blood on the collar of his suit and his face. Motherfucker.

"For inviting me to the game." I said as I approached him, his eyes on me as I sat down, opposite him. "I won and took a bloody fortune with me."

He kept quiet, listening to me, his dark eyes flickering all over my face as I spoke.

"So the decent thing of me to do would be to thank you for it."

"I'm just a messenger who delivers invitations." He smirked, but before he could say more, I continued, all off my anger resurfacing.

"And just who had you deliver those invitations, handsome?" I spoke, venom infecting my every word. "Let me meet him. I have something to say to him."

"Give me the message, and I'll pass it along." He continued, giving me a smile at the end. It appears that I was right. His smile is the same.

"Oh, dear." I mockingly pouted as I crossed my legs. "I'm afraid that it's not something I can discuss with an underling like you."

His smile quivered as he raised his eyebrow. Waiting on me to continue.

"You prey on people who are hanging by a thread and corner them at subway stations." I could feel myself slowly starting to shake from anger and despair. "Someone like you wouldn't be able to understand what I'm trying to say, of course."

For a while, there was silence yet again. We were just looking at each other. Our eyes never leaving each other's.

"You know what the funniest thing was?"

"What, miss?"

"For a moment, when I was hunting you down, I was just delusional enough to think that we could actually team up. You know? Take down the games and whoever was behind them. I liked you. And I liked to think that. But now I realize just how wrong I was." I whispered, turning away from him as I spoke. Yet I still felt his eyes on me. "And boy was I wrong. You will never change. You like the monstrous things that you are doing."

"How do you think I got to where I am now?"

"I don't fucking care." I spat at him as I turned to look at him again, his expression unreadable. "I don't care how you became their dog. I just want you to bring me your master."

He looked down, sighing as he cracked his neck, gun still in his hold. After a while he spoke again.

"I used to work in the games when I was younger. I removed and burned the bodies of countless people like you."

He was the pink guard once.

"'These things aren't human. They're just trash utterly useless in this world.' I kept telling myself that and worked hard for a few years." He spoke, suddenly smiling again. "Then they gave me a gun."

The triangle guard.

"It felt pretty good." He said as he lifted up his gun, examining it. "Like my existence was acknowledged for the first time in my life. I don't know which year it was, but one day, I was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. Guess who it was."

I kept quiet.

"My dad." He finally said. "My dad was suddenly standing in front of me. He was in tears, desperately begging me to spare his life."

He suddenly moved his hand, placing the gun in front of my forehead, but his suddenly, quick movement did not startle me one bit. I was used to it.

"I shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, 'Ah. I'm cut out for this job.'"

He was looking straight at me, his dark eyes mad. I narrowed mine at him. Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Maybe, but I didn't. Not only did he enjoy it, but he also has no idea how it was like for me. All the things Gi-hun and I went through. All of people we lost along the way... Ali... Sae-byeok... Sang-woo...

"Whether you shoot people in there or con them outside, it doesn't change anything." I said, slowly leaning over towards him. "You have always been nothing more than their dog."

He clicked his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, his expression darkening.

"Miss." He started, his hand shaking slightly as I kept completely still. "Do you think you're special because you won the game?"

I said nothing. My expectation still as I leaned forward just a bit more, pressing my forehead directly on his gun. His dark expression broke into one of shock.

"Someone like you could never know or understand how I made it out of there alive. And how it feels to play the games."

Suddenly, he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. My expression barely changed, yet I could he on his face that my eyes old him every. Shock, disappointment and sadness.

He sighed before leaning over to me on the table that until now kept us at a distance. He was quiet for a while. I suppose he has always been that way.

"Let's play a game." He smiled at me.

I didn't say anything. He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table, letting a song play.

Time to say goodbye.

He leaned back against the seat as he lifted up his gun.

"I'm sure you've seen this in the movies." He started to explain, never breaking eye contact with me. "It's called Russian Roulette."

Motherfucker.

"Usually, you place one bullet in the gun, spin the cylinder, and pull the trigger." He said, clicking the gun in its place before pulling the trigger, explaining the game as he showed me what to do. "And before the next round, you spin the cylinder again. It rests the odds back to 1 in 6."

"I know." I mumbled and he smiled.

"But I'd like to make this game a little more serious." He smirked. "Because you're truly special, love."

"Cut to the chase." I glared at him and his stupid antics. He blinked at me and continued.

"We'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over." He paused. "What do you say?"

"Spin the gun." I frowned.

He smirked before gently placing the gun on the table. This could end badly on both sides, but for a moment, I found myself being selfish. Maybe, just maybe, if I lost this game after everything I went through, I could die and find peace with the people I lost. I could join them and leave with the feelings I have for him, that he possibly realized, unsaid. I could finally end it all. The night terrors, the time I spent searching for him, my cigarette addiction, mourning what I lost and what I couldn't have, yet at the same time not enjoying the money I got form the games. Who could enjoy that? Who could possibly enjoy living the life that I live.

He spinned the gun, and its tip pointed at me. Without a second thought, I took the gun and placed it by the side of my head. A few seconds later, not looking away from him, I pulled the trigger. Noting happened. That chamber was empty.

I put the gun on the table. I barely had time to move my hand before he took the gun, placed it by his head just like I did and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He sighed in content as he placed the gun back on the table, smiling at me almost lovingly. I knew.

I took the gun and placed it by my head again, but before I could just pull the trigger he spoke up.

"I've always wondered how you made it out of there alive." He smiled before he laughed a little. "For, one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji."

I said nothing, glaring at him. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened once again.

He looked at me, impressed by my luck so far. I looked him straight in the eyes as I threw the gun on the table. It slid over on the other side, right in front of me.

He took the gun after he took a moment to just look at me. Not breaking eye contact, he took the gun. Leaned over to me until he was basically touching me, pointing the gun at me. Then he did something that I did not expect at all. He put the gun in his mouth.

Motherfucker.

He pulled the trigger. I winced a little. Nothing again. He laughed at my expression as I tried my hardest to keep myself composed. He slowly took the gun out of his mouth before sitting back, putting the gun back on the table.

I took the gun and as I was about to place it by my head he spoke up again.

"What's the matter?" He asked me, raising his eyebrows. "Is your mind starting to race?"

I scoffed slightly.

Motherfucker.

"Now your odds of death are 1 in 2." He nodded. "That's pretty high indeed. I'm sure you're afraid, darling. Lots going through your mind."

I said nothing.

"Let me guess what you're thinking right now." Motherfucker. "'The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow his face off.' Isn't that right?"

I kept looking at him, glaring as I did. All while he spoke. "If you and Gi-hun want to meet the person you mentioned earlier, the key is in my pocket." At that I allowed my eyes to travel all over him. "You can simply shoot me with that gun and take it. But I'll have you admit one thing."

He took a moment to pause, my hand still holding the gun by my head. He leaned over once again.

"That you're a piece of trash, just like Gi-hun, just like everyone else that was in the games." He leaned over more closely, our lips practically touching as he spoke. "A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster."

He laughed as I pressed the gun against my head, our lips barely an inch away from each other's. This was it, I thought to myself. This round will determine if I live or die. I tightened the grip on the gun, my knuckles turning white again. I pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He looked at me, then at the gun and then back at me. I started to chuckle lowly, like a maniac. Perhaps I was one. I watched his face closely as I pulled the gun away from my head. The grip on the gun still tight as I pointed it at his chin before slowly opening up my palm, waiting on him to take the final, real shot.

His hand touched mine. I felt him and myself freeze at the contact as he took the gun from my hand. I pulled my hand away as he looked at the gun.

"What's the matter?" I taunted him, my face mirroring the smirk that he always wears. "Is your mind starting to race?"

He said nothing as I spoke to him.

"That's right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me." He looked pale at my words. "But... before you leave me forever this time. I'll have you admit two things."

He looked at me as I brought my hand at his cheek, wiping a little bit of blood on his face.

"You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark, and wave your tail for them. You're nothing more than their dog." I told him before my voice became gentle.

He waited on me, his eyes soft.

"And regarding this." I said as I waved my hand slightly between the two of us. "You really are a dog. A dog that loves me. And... perhaps I am a fool, too. Because I love a dog that could've made it all work out for us but was too much of a coward to do so."

I leaned over to him, my hand landing under his chin, holding him.

"Admit it." I whispered as we looked each other in the eyes. "Admit that you love me, that you did ever since you gave me that fucking card."

For a moment, there was silence. His tortured eyes, looking at me. I knew. I always did. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, for a moment. This would be the last time that I spoke to him, that I could look into his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

All of a sudden, there was a loud sound followed by blood spraying my face as his body fell backward.

I stood up and walked over to him. I don't know how long I stood there, but after a while, I felt a tear sliding down my cheek. My hand touched my cheek as I whipped it away.

Motherfucker.

Prequel of my fic Russian Roulette is here!!

ur salesman fic was so 💕💗💞💓 i need more lore between mc and him !

Thank you so much!! There will be the prequel of my fic soon. If it won't be posted today, it will be posted tomorrow. So keep a look out!😉

Red | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After a tiring day, you're just trying to go home, but while you're waiting on your train, a handsome man in a suit stumbles on you.

Warning/s: betting, money in exchange for a game, slapping (on the face, you nasty), salesman trying to recruit you for the games, smoking cigarettes, people on the station being kind of weirded out, maybe some cursing (idk), reader is in debt, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: So this is like the prequel to my story Russian Roulette, but it really doesn't matter whether you read that fic or this one first. You do you. I really love the request, btw. Hope you enjoy!

Request: hii can u make more stories in this story line between the reader n him? like i rlly wanna know what they were like tgthr before this situation since we r told they had smth tgthr at some point tyyyy

Part 2 here!!

The bench where I was sitting was quite cold, which, of course, wasn't surprising considering how cold it was tonight. My hand slightly shook as I wrapped my fingers around the lit up cigarette that I was smoking for who knows how long. My flimsy jacket that was wrapped around me did not bring exact comfort to me that I had hoped it would.

Shivering there, I sat as the announcer's voice rang around the train station, signaling that the train that I was waiting for to go home would be slightly delayed, forcing me to wait there for entire hour more than I should be waiting. It was already late and I was so done with today's day.

Trying to earn money was hard, especially when you're in a lot of debt. Being chased by the people who you owe money to, threatening to cut out your eyes, possibly even kill you in the end, wasn't fun either. You had to learn to sleep with one eye open. Constantly on edge, just like I was right now.

The job that I worked did not provide as much money as I needed it to. There was simply no way for me to earn enough money for food every day, to pay rent which I was already three months behind. My landlord was truly a fucking angel for letting me live in that house as long as I did, but I knew that that wouldn't last forever either. There was no way that I could afford to pay everything that was essential, let alone pay off my debts.

In frustration, letting out a deep, disappointed sigh, my hand slid into the pocket of my jacket, reaching for yet another cigarette and a lighter.

"Hello, miss."

I practically jumped from my seat, startled by a sudden voice next to me. I whipped my head around, finding the face that this voice belonged to.

Right next to me, smiling, was a very handsome man that looked like some kind of salesman. He was wearing a very expensive suit. His hair was as black as the night sky. His piercing eyes just as black. There was little to no facial hair, but that really suited him. He was very handsome and I quickly found myself surprised when I realized that he was actually talking to me.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked once he noticed how startled I was.

"I'm not a prostitute, sir." I said, sliding away on the bench further away from him.

"Don't worry, miss, it's not that." He chuckled gently, his eyes never leaving mine. "I just want to let you in on a great opportunity to win some money."

There was just silence for a while. I sad nothing all the while he kept looking at me.

"Um..." I looked at him and, for a while, just couldn't bring myself to speak up. "No, thank you."

"'No'?" He asked.

It seemed like I caught him by surprise, but after a little while I noticed something else in his eyes that I just couldn't seem to figure out. Some kind of amazement? Respect even? But there was definitely something that I couldn't label quite yet.

"There is definitely a catch." I smiled slightly. I would love to get some money, of course, but I know that it won't be that easy.

"Miss." The salesman smiled once again, his eyes surprisingly gently just like his voice as he spoke. "Would you like to play a game with me?

"Wha-What kind of g-game?" I found myself stuttering a bit. "Look, if this is some sort of sick perverted thing you're doing 'cause I swear if you try something, I am going to scream." I threatened, a newfound confidence overwhelming me.

He chuckled once more, "No, nothing like that, Miss."

All of a sudden, he quickly turned his face away from me as he reached to open his suitcase. I could swear that for a split second I saw him blush, but then I realized that I probably imagined it because there's no way. I mean, sure, he is very handsome, but the two of us are a whole world apart, too different from each other.

"I'm sure you've played ddakji before, right?" He spoke and I looked at the open suitcase that was resting between us.

There were a few piles of money on one side and two different colors of ddakji on the other side. Red and blue. I looked at him with surprise.

"You-You want me to play ddakji with you?" I asked, raising my eyebrow in question.

He nodded with a smile.

"For money?"

He nodded again, "Play a few rounds of ddakji with me and each time you win, I'll pay you a 100,000 won."

Damn.

I mean, sure, why not. I loved that game when I was a kid, and I didn't have a chance to play the game in what seemed like forever. Plus, if I win, I get money. It all seemed amazing, but then I realized what the problem with all of this could be.

"And what if I lose and you win." I asked, he continued to smile as he answered.

"Then you pay me 100,000 won."

"Sir, this is amazing and all, don't get me wrong." I gently said, "But I'm afraid that I don't have the money to pay you back."

"That is all right, miss." His smile unwavering. "We'll figure something else regarding that if it comes to it."

For a moment, I just sat there in silence, pondering the offer. But after a while I finally decided.

"Ah, sure," I sighed before matching his smile and meet his eyes, "Why not?"

"What color would you like to play as?" He asked me, taking both red and blue ddakji as I stood up. He followed me almost immediately.

"Red, please." I said and he smiled as he handed me the red ddakji.

As I reached for the red one that he was handing me out, our hands touched. For a moment we both froze, but then I quickly took the ddakji and moved away.

It was so strange. The feeling I got when I touched his hand. It was as if some sort of electricity went straight through me, forcing me to quickly move away due to the shock of it all.

He cleared his throat before extending his right hand, pointing to the floor, "You gotta first, Miss."

I nodded, and with that, he placed the blue ddakji on the ground, and I stood over it. I took a stronger hold of the red ddakji and stood up more straight as I glared at the blue ddakji. Goodness, I haven't done this in years, I thought to myself, letting out a shaky breath.

I took a deep breath.

I could feel his eyes on me.

I swang my arm behind my head before powerfully striking his blue ddakji. Apparently, I must have done something wrong because his blue ddakji moved but did not flip over. I let out a sigh, looking kind of defeated.

He stepped forward, grabbed his blue ddakji, and stood back up. I moved away, giving him more space, his eyes folowing my every move. Almost immediately, he swang his arm behind his head, slaming his blue ddakji on my red one, flipping it over with ease. I sighed as he turned to look at me, teasing smile making it's way on his face.

"So..." I spoke up, kind of unsure and slightly intimidated, "So what now? I lost."

"Don't worry about money." He spoke up, kind of surprising me with that one, "We'll discuss it at the end if that is okay with you, Miss?"

"Sure." I answered him, meeting his eyes.

His smile widened a little bit more as we, for a few moments, just stood there taking each other in. All of a sudden, he cleared his throat, snapping himself out of it.

"One more round?" He asked as he fixed his tie, I nodded, not saying a word.

Turns out, one round meant about five more. I lost every single round. It truly began to seem like luck wasn't on my side that day.

We got to the last round, the sixth one. I was getting annoyed, constantly losing. I took a deep breath. His blue ddakji stared at me, my red one locked in my hand. I flipped my ddakji over and decided that that was it. I swang my hand behind my head and delivered the most powerful swing yet. I stared at his blue ddakji and my red one as both of them flipped in the air before his blue ddakji landed on the cold floor. It flipped over... I won...

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips as he gave me a little applause, smiling as I jokingly bowed.

"Wow," I chuckled, "I finally won the round."

"Well done, Miss." He chuckled lowly, but somehow so softly as he reopened his suitcase handing me 100,000 won. "As promised."

"Thank you," I said, taking the money, "but I lost like five times. Tell me, what can I possibly give you to make this even."

"How about you give me the pleasure of taking you out for dinner, Miss?" He spoke up almost shyly in a way that was so endearing, and even though it seemed like that look wouldn't fit him, it somehow did. "Only if you want to, of course."

"I..." I spoke up stuttering and blushing a bit, surprised by his offer, "I would love to."

After that interesting interaction, we went out to get dinner. I had a great time with him, and even though I hated to admit it, I started to like him. We talked on and on about random things. We were truly having fun and that made my day so much better.

Before separating, he gifted me a blood red rose, and he gave me a card that looked really strange. At the front of the brownish card was a circle, a triangle, and a square. I flipped the card over and saw what looked like a telephone number.

"Miss, there are other games like the one that we played where you can make even more money than you did. So much more." He started to explain, but his expression became different. His smile was gone and there was a sort of gloomy gaze in his eyes. That seemed to surprise him. "Think about it."

He stepped closer to me, looked me deep in the eyes before he started to slowly lean in. I found myself doing the same. Our lips met. We were just standing there, outside of the restaurant, rose in my hand, his hands on my face deepening the kiss.

As we parted ways, he told me that he hoped to see me again if I made it. Whatever that meant.

I took another look at the card that he gave me, staring at the number, not knowing that I will meet my childhood friend Gi-hun, not knowing what the games will do to both of us and to all the other people, not knowing the amount of money I was gonna win, not knowing that I will spend the next three years of my life chasing the man of my life, trying to haunt him down, not knowing how dangerous the last game that we'll play will be.

TAGLIST:

@shadow-tumbler

ur salesman fic was so 💕💗💞💓 i need more lore between mc and him !

Thank you so much!! There will be the prequel of my fic soon. If it won't be posted today, it will be posted tomorrow. So keep a look out!😉

Send requests for the Squid Game characters, ESPECIALLY Gi-hun!! Pls.

Hi! I love your fics so much! Gi-hun definitely needs more love, I mean come on, so here it is. Could you maybe write something about the reader being a foreigner and she was in the games when Gi-hun first was and they feel in love there and won together, so now they live in the Pink Motel together and make a plan about the games where Gi-hun returns to the games as a player and reader somehow infiltrates herself into the games by being the triangle guard and watches over them (kind of like what Hwang Jun-ho did) and during the player's rebellion she stays and he captures her along with the other triangle guy and then takes her mask off and Gi-hun realizes that it's her. They reunite really sweetly and she helps him to try and stops the games during the shootout. You could maybe even include the very ending where the Frotman kills Gi-hun's frined, like how would that scene in that case play out.

Thank you so much, love u 💚

FIRST OFF OMG WHAT IS WITH THIS FUCKING AMAZING PLOT IDEA. Seeing this I am going to be honest it's giving me an idea for a 5 part series. I dont want to stuff all this into a quick response a one shot wouldnt do it justice. If you wanna lokwey dm me I'll tag you in the comments , tell you when its done or just look on my page because this is a really good freaking plot idea !!! So imm be cooking this one I love Gi-hun. He is hot daddy. Ngl. 👀 but yeah I should be cooking up a start for this maybe around Friday it should be posted because this is behind 4+ other requests i have but I do want to give this spot light so yall keep looking at my posts !! Ahhh!!

Thank you so much!!

Russian Roulette | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After doing everything in your power to find the salesman who got you and Gi-hun into all this mess, he unexpectedly shows up in your motel room.

Warning/s: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!!, angst, unspoken feelings (until now), guns, playing Russian Roulette, threatening, mocking, blood, character death, cursing (maybe, idk), tears, talk about the games, tension, reader gives off femme fatale energy, also reader has longer hair to fit into a braid but if you don't just ignore it please, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I just watched the first few episodes, and for a little while, I got out of the writers block. NO SPOILERS, PLEASE!

Rain was pouring down like crazy, wind blowing around as I drove my black car with full speed as I tried to get to the Pink Motel that Gi-hun and I co-owned as fast as I possibly could after today's events. Gun that was placed on the seat next to me was jumping slightly as I drow down the road every time I hit a bump or such. My left hand gripped the steering wheel til my knuckles turned pure white as my right hand gripped the phone to the same extent.

"I found bloodstains there!" I practically shouted into my phone as I came to a stop, the images of blood seeping down the trash bags and the knife thrown on the ground never really leaving my mind. "Gi-hun is still looking, I'm sure they didn't get far from that alley."

"What do we do, miss?"

"Check all the CCTV and dashcam footage you can collect from the area and keep asking around." I continued to practically shout for him to hear me over the rain on the street, my braid swinging over on my left shoulder as I got out of the car, running towards the entrance to the Pink Motel.

"I'll join you soon." And with that, I ended the call, quickly putting my phone in the left pocket of my jacket.

I roughly pulled loose threads of hair that fell on my eyes as I quickly took out the key. However, I came to a sudden stop. Something wasn't right. I found myself freezing as I slowly moved my head to look around. That's when I noticed. The sign of the Pink Motel was lit up.

Someone is here, and they want me to know that.

I stood there in the rain for a little while before I decided to take a deep breath before entering. I walked up all the way to the fourth floor before entering, the light going on as I did. I walked into my bedroom as quietly as I could. But even before I could prepare myself for what I was about to see, just as I walked to the end of the first corner, I saw him.

After three years of endlessly, tirelessly trying to find him, he was here. Right in front of me. He was standing in front of my wall, a shining black gun in his hand, looking at the calendar on which I crossed the dates with red marker every single day for three years. Next to in was a map of the underground, every single route mapped out, drawn on, and my handwriting shone on it to.

"It's been a long time, Miss."

For a while, I said nothing. I was just standing there, soaking wet, the rain that I took with me inside dripping on the floor. I was staking in his appearance for a moment. He was just as tall as I remember, standing there in his suit. For a moment, it seemed like he didn't change one bit, like nothing changed from the moment that I fist saw him on the train station three years ago.

But it did.

His hair was longer, I won the games alongside Gi-hun, we weren't on the train station, but in my Motel room, he wasn't holding a briefcase, he was holding a gun and I didn't.

But his voice was the same, he was still as tall as I remember, I suppose his smile was the same, too. And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same feelings he did three years ago before I gained and lost it all.

I just sighed and moved towards the table I ate. There was a towel that I threw last night. I started to pat my hair, trying to dry it off as I looked around for some dry clothes.

"You should've gotten on that plane that day." He said, looking over at me as I paused.

"I changed my mind when I saw you there." I said before continuing to dry myself.

The moment of quiet continued as I put the towel away. He tapped the map with his gun before he started to speak again. I truly didn't know how to feel. After I wasted three years trying to find him, he just shows up at my motel room. Funny.

"It looks like you've been trying hard to find me, darling." I could just hear that ignorant smirk in his voice. Motherfucker.

"Don't let it get to your head." I told him slowly, my voice completely calm. "I just wanted to thank you." I said as I took off my wet jacket, throwing it in the corner.

"Thank me?" He asked as he sat down on one of the sofas by the table next to my bed. I turned to look at him slowly, a dry jacket in my hand. That's when I noticed blood on the collar of his suit and his face. Motherfucker.

"For inviting me to the game." I said as I approached him, his eyes on me as I sat down, opposite him. "I won and took a bloody fortune with me."

He kept quiet, listening to me, his dark eyes flickering all over my face as I spoke.

"So the decent thing of me to do would be to thank you for it."

"I'm just a messenger who delivers invitations." He smirked, but before he could say more, I continued, all off my anger resurfacing.

"And just who had you deliver those invitations, handsome?" I spoke, venom infecting my every word. "Let me meet him. I have something to say to him."

"Give me the message, and I'll pass it along." He continued, giving me a smile at the end. It appears that I was right. His smile is the same.

"Oh, dear." I mockingly pouted as I crossed my legs. "I'm afraid that it's not something I can discuss with an underling like you."

His smile quivered as he raised his eyebrow. Waiting on me to continue.

"You prey on people who are hanging by a thread and corner them at subway stations." I could feel myself slowly starting to shake from anger and despair. "Someone like you wouldn't be able to understand what I'm trying to say, of course."

For a while, there was silence yet again. We were just looking at each other. Our eyes never leaving each other's.

"You know what the funniest thing was?"

"What, miss?"

"For a moment, when I was hunting you down, I was just delusional enough to think that we could actually team up. You know? Take down the games and whoever was behind them. I liked you. And I liked to think that. But now I realize just how wrong I was." I whispered, turning away from him as I spoke. Yet I still felt his eyes on me. "And boy was I wrong. You will never change. You like the monstrous things that you are doing."

"How do you think I got to where I am now?"

"I don't fucking care." I spat at him as I turned to look at him again, his expression unreadable. "I don't care how you became their dog. I just want you to bring me your master."

He looked down, sighing as he cracked his neck, gun still in his hold. After a while he spoke again.

"I used to work in the games when I was younger. I removed and burned the bodies of countless people like you."

He was the pink guard once.

"'These things aren't human. They're just trash utterly useless in this world.' I kept telling myself that and worked hard for a few years." He spoke, suddenly smiling again. "Then they gave me a gun."

The triangle guard.

"It felt pretty good." He said as he lifted up his gun, examining it. "Like my existence was acknowledged for the first time in my life. I don't know which year it was, but one day, I was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. Guess who it was."

I kept quiet.

"My dad." He finally said. "My dad was suddenly standing in front of me. He was in tears, desperately begging me to spare his life."

He suddenly moved his hand, placing the gun in front of my forehead, but his suddenly, quick movement did not startle me one bit. I was used to it.

"I shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, 'Ah. I'm cut out for this job.'"

He was looking straight at me, his dark eyes mad. I narrowed mine at him. Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Maybe, but I didn't. Not only did he enjoy it, but he also has no idea how it was like for me. All the things Gi-hun and I went through. All of people we lost along the way... Ali... Sae-byeok... Sang-woo...

"Whether you shoot people in there or con them outside, it doesn't change anything." I said, slowly leaning over towards him. "You have always been nothing more than their dog."

He clicked his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, his expression darkening.

"Miss." He started, his hand shaking slightly as I kept completely still. "Do you think you're special because you won the game?"

I said nothing. My expectation still as I leaned forward just a bit more, pressing my forehead directly on his gun. His dark expression broke into one of shock.

"Someone like you could never know or understand how I made it out of there alive. And how it feels to play the games."

Suddenly, he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. My expression barely changed, yet I could he on his face that my eyes old him every. Shock, disappointment and sadness.

He sighed before leaning over to me on the table that until now kept us at a distance. He was quiet for a while. I suppose he has always been that way.

"Let's play a game." He smiled at me.

I didn't say anything. He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table, letting a song play.

Time to say goodbye.

He leaned back against the seat as he lifted up his gun.

"I'm sure you've seen this in the movies." He started to explain, never breaking eye contact with me. "It's called Russian Roulette."

Motherfucker.

"Usually, you place one bullet in the gun, spin the cylinder, and pull the trigger." He said, clicking the gun in its place before pulling the trigger, explaining the game as he showed me what to do. "And before the next round, you spin the cylinder again. It rests the odds back to 1 in 6."

"I know." I mumbled and he smiled.

"But I'd like to make this game a little more serious." He smirked. "Because you're truly special, love."

"Cut to the chase." I glared at him and his stupid antics. He blinked at me and continued.

"We'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over." He paused. "What do you say?"

"Spin the gun." I frowned.

He smirked before gently placing the gun on the table. This could end badly on both sides, but for a moment, I found myself being selfish. Maybe, just maybe, if I lost this game after everything I went through, I could die and find peace with the people I lost. I could join them and leave with the feelings I have for him, that he possibly realized, unsaid. I could finally end it all. The night terrors, the time I spent searching for him, my cigarette addiction, mourning what I lost and what I couldn't have, yet at the same time not enjoying the money I got form the games. Who could enjoy that? Who could possibly enjoy living the life that I live.

He spinned the gun, and its tip pointed at me. Without a second thought, I took the gun and placed it by the side of my head. A few seconds later, not looking away from him, I pulled the trigger. Noting happened. That chamber was empty.

I put the gun on the table. I barely had time to move my hand before he took the gun, placed it by his head just like I did and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He sighed in content as he placed the gun back on the table, smiling at me almost lovingly. I knew.

I took the gun and placed it by my head again, but before I could just pull the trigger he spoke up.

"I've always wondered how you made it out of there alive." He smiled before he laughed a little. "For, one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji."

I said nothing, glaring at him. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened once again.

He looked at me, impressed by my luck so far. I looked him straight in the eyes as I threw the gun on the table. It slid over on the other side, right in front of me.

He took the gun after he took a moment to just look at me. Not breaking eye contact, he took the gun. Leaned over to me until he was basically touching me, pointing the gun at me. Then he did something that I did not expect at all. He put the gun in his mouth.

Motherfucker.

He pulled the trigger. I winced a little. Nothing again. He laughed at my expression as I tried my hardest to keep myself composed. He slowly took the gun out of his mouth before sitting back, putting the gun back on the table.

I took the gun and as I was about to place it by my head he spoke up again.

"What's the matter?" He asked me, raising his eyebrows. "Is your mind starting to race?"

I scoffed slightly.

Motherfucker.

"Now your odds of death are 1 in 2." He nodded. "That's pretty high indeed. I'm sure you're afraid, darling. Lots going through your mind."

I said nothing.

"Let me guess what you're thinking right now." Motherfucker. "'The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow his face off.' Isn't that right?"

I kept looking at him, glaring as I did. All while he spoke. "If you and Gi-hun want to meet the person you mentioned earlier, the key is in my pocket." At that I allowed my eyes to travel all over him. "You can simply shoot me with that gun and take it. But I'll have you admit one thing."

He took a moment to pause, my hand still holding the gun by my head. He leaned over once again.

"That you're a piece of trash, just like Gi-hun, just like everyone else that was in the games." He leaned over more closely, our lips practically touching as he spoke. "A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster."

He laughed as I pressed the gun against my head, our lips barely an inch away from each other's. This was it, I thought to myself. This round will determine if I live or die. I tightened the grip on the gun, my knuckles turning white again. I pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He looked at me, then at the gun and then back at me. I started to chuckle lowly, like a maniac. Perhaps I was one. I watched his face closely as I pulled the gun away from my head. The grip on the gun still tight as I pointed it at his chin before slowly opening up my palm, waiting on him to take the final, real shot.

His hand touched mine. I felt him and myself freeze at the contact as he took the gun from my hand. I pulled my hand away as he looked at the gun.

"What's the matter?" I taunted him, my face mirroring the smirk that he always wears. "Is your mind starting to race?"

He said nothing as I spoke to him.

"That's right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me." He looked pale at my words. "But... before you leave me forever this time. I'll have you admit two things."

He looked at me as I brought my hand at his cheek, wiping a little bit of blood on his face.

"You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark, and wave your tail for them. You're nothing more than their dog." I told him before my voice became gentle.

He waited on me, his eyes soft.

"And regarding this." I said as I waved my hand slightly between the two of us. "You really are a dog. A dog that loves me. And... perhaps I am a fool, too. Because I love a dog that could've made it all work out for us but was too much of a coward to do so."

I leaned over to him, my hand landing under his chin, holding him.

"Admit it." I whispered as we looked each other in the eyes. "Admit that you love me, that you did ever since you gave me that fucking card."

For a moment, there was silence. His tortured eyes, looking at me. I knew. I always did. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, for a moment. This would be the last time that I spoke to him, that I could look into his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

All of a sudden, there was a loud sound followed by blood spraying my face as his body fell backward.

I stood up and walked over to him. I don't know how long I stood there, but after a while, I felt a tear sliding down my cheek. My hand touched my cheek as I whipped it away.

Motherfucker.

MY SHEILAAAAA

MY SHEEILLLAAAAAAA 💔

Squid Game Taglist

All -> @shadow-tumbler

The Salesman -> -

Seong Gi-hun -> -

The Squid Game Masterlist

✭ - smut

♡ - fluff

➳ - angst

۵ - hurt/comfort

☆ - headcanons

°

The Salesman

"Would you like to play a game with me?"

Russian Roulette - After doing everything in your power to find the salesman who got you and Gi-hun into all this mess, he unexpectedly shows up in your motel room. [➳]

Red - After a tiring day, you're just trying to go home, but while you're waiting on your train, a handsome man in a suit stumbles on you. [♡]

"You don't trust people because they are trustworthy. You do it because you have nothing else to rely on."

Comfort - You knew that hunting down the salesman was going to be difficult, but after everything that you've been through in the games alongside Gi-hun, sometimes everything feels like it's going to suffocate you. Luckily, he's always there for you. [۵]

Russian Roulette | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After doing everything in your power to find the salesman who got you and Gi-hun into all this mess, he unexpectedly shows up in your motel room.

Warning/s: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!!, angst, unspoken feelings (until now), guns, playing Russian Roulette, threatening, mocking, blood, character death, cursing (maybe, idk), tears, talk about the games, tension, reader gives off femme fatale energy, also reader has longer hair to fit into a braid but if you don't just ignore it please, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I just watched the first few episodes, and for a little while, I got out of the writers block. NO SPOILERS, PLEASE!

Prequel to this fic here!

Rain was pouring down like crazy, wind blowing around as I drove my black car with full speed as I tried to get to the Pink Motel that Gi-hun and I co-owned as fast as I possibly could after today's events. Gun that was placed on the seat next to me was jumping slightly as I drow down the road every time I hit a bump or such. My left hand gripped the steering wheel til my knuckles turned pure white as my right hand gripped the phone to the same extent.

"I found bloodstains there!" I practically shouted into my phone as I came to a stop, the images of blood seeping down the trash bags and the knife thrown on the ground never really leaving my mind. "Gi-hun is still looking, I'm sure they didn't get far from that alley."

"What do we do, miss?"

"Check all the CCTV and dashcam footage you can collect from the area and keep asking around." I continued to practically shout for him to hear me over the rain on the street, my braid swinging over on my left shoulder as I got out of the car, running towards the entrance to the Pink Motel.

"I'll join you soon." And with that, I ended the call, quickly putting my phone in the left pocket of my jacket.

I roughly pulled loose threads of hair that fell on my eyes as I quickly took out the key. However, I came to a sudden stop. Something wasn't right. I found myself freezing as I slowly moved my head to look around. That's when I noticed. The sign of the Pink Motel was lit up.

Someone is here, and they want me to know that.

I stood there in the rain for a little while before I decided to take a deep breath before entering. I walked up all the way to the fourth floor before entering, the light going on as I did. I walked into my bedroom as quietly as I could. But even before I could prepare myself for what I was about to see, just as I walked to the end of the first corner, I saw him.

After three years of endlessly, tirelessly trying to find him, he was here. Right in front of me. He was standing in front of my wall, a shining black gun in his hand, looking at the calendar on which I crossed the dates with red marker every single day for three years. Next to in was a map of the underground, every single route mapped out, drawn on, and my handwriting shone on it to.

"It's been a long time, Miss."

For a while, I said nothing. I was just standing there, soaking wet, the rain that I took with me inside dripping on the floor. I was staking in his appearance for a moment. He was just as tall as I remember, standing there in his suit. For a moment, it seemed like he didn't change one bit, like nothing changed from the moment that I fist saw him on the train station three years ago.

But it did.

His hair was longer, I won the games alongside Gi-hun, we weren't on the train station, but in my Motel room, he wasn't holding a briefcase, he was holding a gun and I didn't.

But his voice was the same, he was still as tall as I remember, I suppose his smile was the same, too. And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same feelings he did three years ago before I gained and lost it all.

I just sighed and moved towards the table I ate. There was a towel that I threw last night. I started to pat my hair, trying to dry it off as I looked around for some dry clothes.

"You should've gotten on that plane that day." He said, looking over at me as I paused.

"I changed my mind when I saw you there." I said before continuing to dry myself.

The moment of quiet continued as I put the towel away. He tapped the map with his gun before he started to speak again. I truly didn't know how to feel. After I wasted three years trying to find him, he just shows up at my motel room. Funny.

"It looks like you've been trying hard to find me, darling." I could just hear that ignorant smirk in his voice. Motherfucker.

"Don't let it get to your head." I told him slowly, my voice completely calm. "I just wanted to thank you." I said as I took off my wet jacket, throwing it in the corner.

"Thank me?" He asked as he sat down on one of the sofas by the table next to my bed. I turned to look at him slowly, a dry jacket in my hand. That's when I noticed blood on the collar of his suit and his face. Motherfucker.

"For inviting me to the game." I said as I approached him, his eyes on me as I sat down, opposite him. "I won and took a bloody fortune with me."

He kept quiet, listening to me, his dark eyes flickering all over my face as I spoke.

"So the decent thing of me to do would be to thank you for it."

"I'm just a messenger who delivers invitations." He smirked, but before he could say more, I continued, all off my anger resurfacing.

"And just who had you deliver those invitations, handsome?" I spoke, venom infecting my every word. "Let me meet him. I have something to say to him."

"Give me the message, and I'll pass it along." He continued, giving me a smile at the end. It appears that I was right. His smile is the same.

"Oh, dear." I mockingly pouted as I crossed my legs. "I'm afraid that it's not something I can discuss with an underling like you."

His smile quivered as he raised his eyebrow. Waiting on me to continue.

"You prey on people who are hanging by a thread and corner them at subway stations." I could feel myself slowly starting to shake from anger and despair. "Someone like you wouldn't be able to understand what I'm trying to say, of course."

For a while, there was silence yet again. We were just looking at each other. Our eyes never leaving each other's.

"You know what the funniest thing was?"

"What, miss?"

"For a moment, when I was hunting you down, I was just delusional enough to think that we could actually team up. You know? Take down the games and whoever was behind them. I liked you. And I liked to think that. But now I realize just how wrong I was." I whispered, turning away from him as I spoke. Yet I still felt his eyes on me. "And boy was I wrong. You will never change. You like the monstrous things that you are doing."

"How do you think I got to where I am now?"

"I don't fucking care." I spat at him as I turned to look at him again, his expression unreadable. "I don't care how you became their dog. I just want you to bring me your master."

He looked down, sighing as he cracked his neck, gun still in his hold. After a while he spoke again.

"I used to work in the games when I was younger. I removed and burned the bodies of countless people like you."

He was the pink guard once.

"'These things aren't human. They're just trash utterly useless in this world.' I kept telling myself that and worked hard for a few years." He spoke, suddenly smiling again. "Then they gave me a gun."

The triangle guard.

"It felt pretty good." He said as he lifted up his gun, examining it. "Like my existence was acknowledged for the first time in my life. I don't know which year it was, but one day, I was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. Guess who it was."

I kept quiet.

"My dad." He finally said. "My dad was suddenly standing in front of me. He was in tears, desperately begging me to spare his life."

He suddenly moved his hand, placing the gun in front of my forehead, but his suddenly, quick movement did not startle me one bit. I was used to it.

"I shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, 'Ah. I'm cut out for this job.'"

He was looking straight at me, his dark eyes mad. I narrowed mine at him. Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Maybe, but I didn't. Not only did he enjoy it, but he also has no idea how it was like for me. All the things Gi-hun and I went through. All of people we lost along the way... Ali... Sae-byeok... Sang-woo...

"Whether you shoot people in there or con them outside, it doesn't change anything." I said, slowly leaning over towards him. "You have always been nothing more than their dog."

He clicked his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, his expression darkening.

"Miss." He started, his hand shaking slightly as I kept completely still. "Do you think you're special because you won the game?"

I said nothing. My expectation still as I leaned forward just a bit more, pressing my forehead directly on his gun. His dark expression broke into one of shock.

"Someone like you could never know or understand how I made it out of there alive. And how it feels to play the games."

Suddenly, he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. My expression barely changed, yet I could he on his face that my eyes old him every. Shock, disappointment and sadness.

He sighed before leaning over to me on the table that until now kept us at a distance. He was quiet for a while. I suppose he has always been that way.

"Let's play a game." He smiled at me.

I didn't say anything. He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table, letting a song play.

Time to say goodbye.

He leaned back against the seat as he lifted up his gun.

"I'm sure you've seen this in the movies." He started to explain, never breaking eye contact with me. "It's called Russian Roulette."

Motherfucker.

"Usually, you place one bullet in the gun, spin the cylinder, and pull the trigger." He said, clicking the gun in its place before pulling the trigger, explaining the game as he showed me what to do. "And before the next round, you spin the cylinder again. It rests the odds back to 1 in 6."

"I know." I mumbled and he smiled.

"But I'd like to make this game a little more serious." He smirked. "Because you're truly special, love."

"Cut to the chase." I glared at him and his stupid antics. He blinked at me and continued.

"We'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over." He paused. "What do you say?"

"Spin the gun." I frowned.

He smirked before gently placing the gun on the table. This could end badly on both sides, but for a moment, I found myself being selfish. Maybe, just maybe, if I lost this game after everything I went through, I could die and find peace with the people I lost. I could join them and leave with the feelings I have for him, that he possibly realized, unsaid. I could finally end it all. The night terrors, the time I spent searching for him, my cigarette addiction, mourning what I lost and what I couldn't have, yet at the same time not enjoying the money I got form the games. Who could enjoy that? Who could possibly enjoy living the life that I live.

He spinned the gun, and its tip pointed at me. Without a second thought, I took the gun and placed it by the side of my head. A few seconds later, not looking away from him, I pulled the trigger. Noting happened. That chamber was empty.

I put the gun on the table. I barely had time to move my hand before he took the gun, placed it by his head just like I did and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He sighed in content as he placed the gun back on the table, smiling at me almost lovingly. I knew.

I took the gun and placed it by my head again, but before I could just pull the trigger he spoke up.

"I've always wondered how you made it out of there alive." He smiled before he laughed a little. "For, one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji."

I said nothing, glaring at him. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened once again.

He looked at me, impressed by my luck so far. I looked him straight in the eyes as I threw the gun on the table. It slid over on the other side, right in front of me.

He took the gun after he took a moment to just look at me. Not breaking eye contact, he took the gun. Leaned over to me until he was basically touching me, pointing the gun at me. Then he did something that I did not expect at all. He put the gun in his mouth.

Motherfucker.

He pulled the trigger. I winced a little. Nothing again. He laughed at my expression as I tried my hardest to keep myself composed. He slowly took the gun out of his mouth before sitting back, putting the gun back on the table.

I took the gun and as I was about to place it by my head he spoke up again.

"What's the matter?" He asked me, raising his eyebrows. "Is your mind starting to race?"

I scoffed slightly.

Motherfucker.

"Now your odds of death are 1 in 2." He nodded. "That's pretty high indeed. I'm sure you're afraid, darling. Lots going through your mind."

I said nothing.

"Let me guess what you're thinking right now." Motherfucker. "'The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow his face off.' Isn't that right?"

I kept looking at him, glaring as I did. All while he spoke. "If you and Gi-hun want to meet the person you mentioned earlier, the key is in my pocket." At that I allowed my eyes to travel all over him. "You can simply shoot me with that gun and take it. But I'll have you admit one thing."

He took a moment to pause, my hand still holding the gun by my head. He leaned over once again.

"That you're a piece of trash, just like Gi-hun, just like everyone else that was in the games." He leaned over more closely, our lips practically touching as he spoke. "A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster."

He laughed as I pressed the gun against my head, our lips barely an inch away from each other's. This was it, I thought to myself. This round will determine if I live or die. I tightened the grip on the gun, my knuckles turning white again. I pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He looked at me, then at the gun and then back at me. I started to chuckle lowly, like a maniac. Perhaps I was one. I watched his face closely as I pulled the gun away from my head. The grip on the gun still tight as I pointed it at his chin before slowly opening up my palm, waiting on him to take the final, real shot.

His hand touched mine. I felt him and myself freeze at the contact as he took the gun from my hand. I pulled my hand away as he looked at the gun.

"What's the matter?" I taunted him, my face mirroring the smirk that he always wears. "Is your mind starting to race?"

He said nothing as I spoke to him.

"That's right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me." He looked pale at my words. "But... before you leave me forever this time. I'll have you admit two things."

He looked at me as I brought my hand at his cheek, wiping a little bit of blood on his face.

"You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark, and wave your tail for them. You're nothing more than their dog." I told him before my voice became gentle.

He waited on me, his eyes soft.

"And regarding this." I said as I waved my hand slightly between the two of us. "You really are a dog. A dog that loves me. And... perhaps I am a fool, too. Because I love a dog that could've made it all work out for us but was too much of a coward to do so."

I leaned over to him, my hand landing under his chin, holding him.

"Admit it." I whispered as we looked each other in the eyes. "Admit that you love me, that you did ever since you gave me that fucking card."

For a moment, there was silence. His tortured eyes, looking at me. I knew. I always did. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, for a moment. This would be the last time that I spoke to him, that I could look into his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

All of a sudden, there was a loud sound followed by blood spraying my face as his body fell backward.

I stood up and walked over to him. I don't know how long I stood there, but after a while, I felt a tear sliding down my cheek. My hand touched my cheek as I whipped it away.

Motherfucker.

Doodle dump!!!

Wanted to post more on here! Felt like I was kinda neglecting tumblr tbh 😔😔 some doodles of all my current interests rn!

Breaking the rules 2 ்⋆ ˖ ࣪ ˒

part 1 here! gong yoo/salesman x f!reader

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you felt regretful after everything that happen, even after making up with your boyfriend. Maybe going with your parents to a business party their coworkers were hosting would ease your mind up right? But what you didn’t know Is that your dad was inviting him.

🝮 underage drinking, getting drunk, sweet talk, female reader, SLOWburn, clothed thigh riding, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, teasing, being rough, forcing, also using actors real name since saying mr salesman is weird. Sorry if it ain’t a lot, smut isn’t my best thing and I don’t like writing it a lot. Sorry if you don’t like it!, lmk if I missed anything.

You hadn’t answered his texts all day. The guilt sitting heavy in your chest, twisting with the anger you still hadn’t let go of. Every time his name lit up your phone, you felt that same rush of frustration, and something far worse underneath it. Shame.

But the worst part? You still weren’t sure if you regretted it.

Your fingers hovered over his latest message: “Can we just talk? Please.” You stared at the words until they blurred, your chest tightening. She wanted to talk, she did, but how could you face him when every time you closed her eyes, you remembered the feel of someone else’s hands on your skin? Even worse, his dad.

You turned your phone off and tossed it onto the bed like it had burned you. The room felt too quiet, too still, and your mind wouldn’t shut up. The guilt, the anger, the way your body still reacted when you thought about his father, it was too much. Maybe it was because your parents were currently out right now at the store, buying some stuff for a party later. It felt lonelier then it should be.

But a sudden knock at the window startled you. Your heart leapt as you quickly turned, and there he was. Your boyfriend, standing outside with that same desperate, frustrated look you knew too well.

“Can we talk?” he asked through the glass, his voice muffled but clear.

Your stomach twisted. You wanted to open it, wanted to let him in… but you weren’t sure you could look him in the eye without everything falling apart. You didn’t dare looking out the window. Maybe he would think you weren’t home?

But before you could even decide to open it, another knock sounded, this time at the front door.

And you knew, without even checking, exactly who it was.

Your breath catches, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest. For a second, you think it might be him. but then you hear his voice.

“open the door.”

It’s your boyfriend.

You stare at the window where he’d been just a minute ago, your pulse still racing. He must’ve gone around the house, determined not to let you ignore him. The guilt in your chest tightens but so does the frustration. You’re still mad. You should be mad. But the shame of what you did won’t let you breathe.

He knocks again, harder this time. “Come on, baby. Please.” His voice cracks on the last word, and you hate the way it pulls at your heart. Then your heart skips a beat.. hearing that word. Baby, you sighed as you couldn’t help but remember the way he was saying it to you last night. There was no point in staying mad at your boyfriend knowing what you did was worst. But you would never tell him you did that.. never..

You stand there, frozen, unsure whether to open it or let him keep waiting. The silence stretches, and you wonder if he’ll leave, but you should’ve known better.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, softer now. “Not until we talk.”

You close your eyes, taking a shaky breath. You know you can’t avoid this forever. But facing him? Knowing what you’ve done? That’s a whole different kind of impossible. Your hand shakes as you reach for the doorknob. Every part of you wants to keep that barrier between you, to stay hidden in the silence where you don’t have to face what you’ve done. But you know you can’t avoid him forever.

When you finally pull the door open, he’s standing there, his eyes immediately searching yours. He looks… tired. Hurt. And the sight of it makes your heart ache in a way you weren’t ready for.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice careful, like he’s afraid you might slam the door in his face.

You swallow the lump in your throat and step aside, letting him in without a word. He walks past you, hands stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders tense. You close the door and lean against it, trying to steady yourself, but the room already feels too small.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The air is heavy with everything you haven’t said, and you know one of you has to break first.

“I’m sorry,” he says, turning to face you. His voice is quiet, but there’s no mistaking the sincerity in it. “For everything. I was an ass, and I shouldn’t have—” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to walk away just to get my attention.”

You blink, his words hitting harder than you expect. You were mad at him, you had every right to be, but hearing him own up to it takes some of the fight out of you. Still, the guilt lingers, a sharp reminder of what you haven’t confessed.

“I… I was mad,” you say quietly, your arms crossing over your chest. “But you weren’t the only one who messed up.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes softening. “Then let’s fix it. Please. I don’t want to keep fighting with you.”

You feel your resolve cracking, the warmth in his voice breaking through the wall you’ve been trying so hard to hold up. And when he reaches for your hand, his fingers lacing through yours, the familiar comfort of his touch makes your throat tighten.

“I miss you,” he whispers. “And I love you. Please?”

Your heart aches at the words, at how easy it would be to say yes and pretend like nothing happened. And maybe you’re selfish for wanting that. But right now, with his hand in yours and that soft, pleading look in his eyes… you can’t help but nod.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s start over.”

He pulls you into his arms without hesitation, holding you like he’s afraid to let go. And for just a moment, you let yourself forget the weight of your guilt, and the secret still hanging between you.

-

The sound of the front door opening pulls you out of your thoughts. Your boyfriend had left not that long ago. You hear your mom’s familiar voice first, calling out as bags rustle and footsteps shuffle into the house.

“We’re home!”

You take a deep breath, smoothing your shirt as if that’ll do anything to calm the nerves still twisting in your stomach. The conversation with your boyfriend had left you all jittery from the nerves, and the weight of what you were keeping from him hadn’t eased one bit.

You had been too distracted in your thoughts you didn’t even hear your mom call your name. Until you heard her call your name again. “Can you come help with the bags?”

You force yourself to move, pushing everything else aside. When you step into the kitchen, your parents are surrounded by a mountain of grocery bags, your dad unloading bottles of wine while your mom sorts through fresh produce. The air smells faintly of the bakery down the street, and there’s a calmness here that you wish you could hold onto.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your dad greets you with a tired smile. “You doing okay?”

You nod quickly, hoping your face doesn’t give you away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Need help?”

Your mom waves you over, and you start pulling things from the bags. fruits, vegetables, fancy cheeses you know are only for one of their big business parties. The quiet routine soothes you for a moment, the normalcy grounding you.

“Don’t forget, we need to be ready by seven,” your mom reminds you, glancing at the clock. “This party’s important, and I don’t want to be late.”

“Right,” you mumble, carefully stacking cans in the pantry. “Who’s coming again?”

Your dad hums thoughtfully. “A lot of people from work. Investors, a few partners… oh, and I invited-“ you froze. Heart stopping as you stood there. “I thought it’d be good to finally introduce him to everyone.”

The can in your hand slips. It hits the shelf with a loud clunk before you manage to catch it, your heart slamming against your ribs.

“Wait — what?” Your voice comes out too sharp, and when you turn, your dad’s watching you with a frown.

He repeated his name again. You stood there blankly, like a deer in a headlights. Your dad thinking you were stupid; he repeated. “Your boyfriend’s dad. I ran into him last week and figured it’d be a good chance to network.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Something wrong?”

“No,” you say quickly, but your palms are already sweating. “No, I just… didn’t know he was coming.”

Your mom gives you a curious look but doesn’t push it. “Well, he seemed excited. It’s nice when business and family overlap like this, isn’t it?”

You had asked if your boyfriend was going aswell, but maybe you should’ve just waited to text him when you went back up to your room. “Oh.. no. His father said he was busy with catching up on work for school since he’s fallen behind” you mother said, putting up grocery bags in the cabinets. “But it’s nice he’s getting his work done. Sweet kid.” Your mother said with a smile. Looking at you.

You force a smile, but it feels tight, uncomfortable. Because the last thing you wanted was to see him again, not here, not after last night. Maybe you should lie and try to make up some excuse to stay home. Pretend to be sick?

Your dad keeps talking, but you can’t hear much over the blood rushing in your ears. All you can think about is how you’re going to get through this party without falling apart.

-

The hours slip by faster than you’d like. Before you know it, the sun’s already going down, casting warm streaks of orange through your bedroom window. The quiet hum of the house is broken by the sound of your parents moving around, getting ready. Your mom walking down the hall as she fusses about last minute details.

But in your room, it’s just you. And the weight of what’s coming.

You stand in front of the mirror, smoothing your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. It’s simple but elegant. black, slightly flowy, falling just above your knees. The open back leaves a stretch of your upper back bare, cool air brushing against your skin as you shift.

You should feel good in it. And you do, mostly. But there’s a tightness in your chest that no amount of makeup or pretty dresses can fix.

You sigh, reaching for your earrings as you try to push it down. Maybe you’re overreacting. Maybe he won’t even show up. Or if he does, maybe he’ll keep his distance. Act like nothing happened.

You hope he acts like nothing happened.

The memory of his hands on you flashes through your mind.. warm and sure. You grip the end of the dresser. Shaking your head trying to will the thoughts away. You can’t think about that, not tonight

A knock at your door startles you. “You almost ready?” your mom’s voice calls.

“Yeah!” you call back, forcing your voice to sound steady. “Just a minute!”

You take one last look in the mirror, adjusting your hair so it falls just right against your shoulders. The dress fits perfectly, elegant but understated. But even as you smooth your hands over it again, your stomach won’t stop twisting. You were about to walk out before forgetting your bow. You quickly went over to clip the black soft bow in the back of your hair, all complete.

The night hasn’t even started yet, and already, you know it’s going to be a long one.

-

The drive to the venue feels too short. You’re still wound up, still trying to settle the nerves swirling in your stomach, but before you’re ready, your dad’s pulling up to the valet and your mom’s already stepping out into the warm evening air.

You smooth your dress one last time. not that it helps, and follow them inside. The venue is beautiful, the kind of place your parents always choose for these events. Marble floors gleam under soft golden lighting, and the room hums with quiet conversations and the occasional clink of glasses. It should feel elegant, maybe even exciting, but all you feel is that familiar tightness in your chest.

You try to focus on anything else. Familiar faces drift past, your dad’s coworkers, distant family friends. you keep your smile polite, your small talk brief. You tell yourself you’re fine. That this is just another business party and you have no reason to be this tense.

But the minutes crawl by slowly. You’re trying to keep track of every person who walks in, your eyes flicking toward the entrance too often, your heart jumping at every familiar figure. It’s ridiculous, you know, you don’t even know if he’ll show up.

But the thought of him does nothing to calm you.

“Why don’t you grab a drink?” your mom suggests at one point, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re so quiet tonight.”

You shake your head quickly, your throat too tight at the thought of walking anywhere near the bar. “I’m okay,” you manage. “I think I’ll just sit down for a bit.”

Your mom gives you a curious look but doesn’t press. You slip away from the crowd, finding the table reserved for you and your parents. But knowing them they probably would be up all night. The chair is cold against your skin when you sit, and you rest your hands in your lap, fingers twisting together as you try to calm the anxious flutter in your stomach.

Maybe you’re overreacting. Maybe you’ll get through this night without any—

Your heart drops when you hear your dad’s voice from across the room.

“Ah, there he is! Mr. Gong yoo! glad you could make it!”

Your back goes stiff.

You don’t turn around. You can’t turn around. You can already feel your pulse racing, your skin prickling with the awareness that he’s here. And when his deep, familiar voice carries across the room in response, your fingers tighten in your lap.

You need to stay out of his sight.

But you also know you won’t be able to avoid him forever.

The sound of his voice rolls through the room , smooth, warm, and far too familiar. You freeze, your breath catching as you hear him greet your dad like they’ve known each other for years. And they have, but after last night, everything feels different. Wrong.

You keep your eyes on the table, heart pounding so hard it drowns out most of the chatter around you. But it doesn’t matter. You know he’s here now. You can feel it. That same magnetic pull that had gotten you into trouble in the first place.

“Sweetheart?”

Your head jerks up at your dad’s voice, panic flaring for a split second. “Come say hello,” he urges. “It’s rude to sit off by yourself.”

Your throat tightens. “I—I’m okay,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “I just needed a minute.”

But it’s too late. You hear footsteps approaching. slow, measured , and the air around you seems to shift. Even without looking, you know exactly who it is.

“Ah, no need for introductions,” your dad says cheerfully.

You finally force yourself to look up, and there he is.

He’s perfectly composed, dressed in a sleek black suit that fits him so well it’s unfair. His expression is calm, polite, not even the slightest hint of the night before reflected in his face. But his eyes.. dark and steady, meet yours, and you swear you see something flicker there. Amusement, maybe.

“Good to see you again,” he says smoothly, his voice warm and collected. Like nothing happened. Like his hands hadn’t been all over you just last night.

Your skin prickles, face heating as you struggle to find your voice. “Y-You too,” you manage, but it comes out too soft. Too shaky.

You think you see the corner of his mouth twitch. like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. And that only makes it worse.

Your dad doesn’t notice a thing, already launching into some conversation about business. But you can’t focus. Not when you still feel his eyes on you.

And when you risk a glance up, your breath catches.

Because he isn’t watching your dad.

He’s watching you.

You try to steady your breathing, but it’s impossible with the weight of his gaze on you. Your palms feel clammy in your lap, and you force yourself to keep your hands still, not wanting to give away how nervous you are.

But you know he sees it. You can feel it, the way his eyes linger a second too long, like he’s amused by your discomfort. Like he’s waiting for you to slip up.

“And how’s your son?” your dad asks, and your stomach twists painfully.

You don’t dare look at him. But you can still hear the ease in his voice when he answers. “He’s doing well,” he says smoothly. “He mentioned there was a little… disagreement yesterday, but I’m sure that’s been worked out?”

Your breath catches. You do look up then, your eyes snapping to his face. but there’s no sign of the man from last night. Just calm, polite curiosity. The perfect image of a concerned father.

And yet, when his eyes meet yours, there’s something else there. A glint of knowing.

Your throat goes dry. “Y-Yeah,” you say quickly. “We… talked. Everything’s fine.”

“Glad to hear it,” he says, his voice soft and warm. But there’s something in the way he says it. the slight lift of his brow, the hint of a smile that tugs at his lips, that makes your skin burn. Cause he knows exactly what happen, and what he did.

Your dad gives a satisfied nod, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good, good. Why don’t I introduce you to a few people? You two can talk later.”

You don’t miss the flicker of disappointment that crosses his face. so quick you might’ve imagined it. But when your dad leads him away, his eyes meet yours one last time.

And that look, steady, knowing, amused. makes your stomach flip.

As soon as they disappear into the small crowd of people, you let out a shaky breath, slumping slightly in your chair. But the relief is short-lived. Because now you know he’s here.

And there’s no telling when he’ll come back.

-

The night goes on, and the soft buzz of conversation and laughter starts to blur together. You stay at the table, your fingers tracing the rim of your water glass as your parents drift further into the crowd, chatting, laughing, toasting drinks with old friends.

The room feels warmer now, the golden light softer, and your eyelids grow heavier with every passing minute. You glance around, hoping for a distraction, but there’s nothing. Just groups of adults lost in their conversations and the occasional clink of glasses.

You stifle a yawn, resting your chin on your hand. It’s late, and you’re starting to wonder how much longer you’ll have to sit here alone — then the chair beside you slightly shifts.

You blink, startled, and when you glance up. your heart jumps.

It’s him.

He settles into the seat like he belongs there, his movements slow and relaxed. His black bow tie standing out, and there’s an ease to him that makes your stomach flutter.

“Not having fun?” His voice is low, smooth, the same voice that had whispered far more dangerous things just last night.

You sit up straighter, your pulse picking up. “I—um… I’m fine,” you mumble, suddenly very aware of how quiet and small your voice sounds.

He watches you, his head tilting slightly. “You don’t seem fine,” he says, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You look… tired.”

You swallow, your face heating under his attention. “It’s just… getting late,” you say softly. “That’s all.”

He hums thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “Your parents seem to be enjoying themselves,” he observes, glancing toward them across the room. “They might be here a while.”

You follow his gaze, your dad’s laughing loudly with a group of his friends, and your mom’s deep in conversation, wine glass in hand. He’s right. You’re not leaving anytime soon.

“Would you like some company while you wait?” His voice draws your attention back to him, and the way he’s watching you makes your breath catch. Calm, polite… but there’s something else beneath the surface. Something that makes your skin tingle.

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around your glass. “You don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” he cuts in gently. “You look like you could use someone to keep you awake.”

The teasing edge in his voice makes your cheeks burn. You drop your eyes to your lap, suddenly too shy to meet his gaze. “Okay,” you whisper.

For a few moments, there’s only silence between you. But you can feel his presence. the warmth of it, the way it makes your skin prickle and your heart race. And when you finally risk a glance up, you find him still watching you. His eyes dark, unreadable. And his mouth, just barely curved into that same knowing smile.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, and you’re too aware of every little thing, the warmth of him so close, the quiet hum of his breathing, the way his eyes seem to linger on you just a second too long

“You always this quiet?” he asks after a moment, his voice low and smooth.

Your fingers toy with the hem of your dress as you force yourself to meet his gaze. “Not always,” you say softly.

He hums, amused. “Just around me, then?” That teasing edge to his voice. You weren’t quiet, not at all. He knew that all from the other night.

Your face flushes instantly. “N-No, I—”

“Don’t be all shy again..” he interrupts, his tone gentle but teasing. “You were doing perfectly fine with talking the other day.”

Your heart skips a beat. He says it so casually, like the weight of last night isn’t still sitting heavily between you, making it hard to breathe.

“I—” You start, but the words catch in your throat. You look down, biting your lip. “I guess.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and soft. “Relax,” he says, his voice dipping lower. “I don’t bite… unless you ask me to.”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide, and when you see the slight curve of his lips, your stomach flips.

He’s teasing you. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and the worst part is it’s working.

You glance away quickly, your face burning. “You—You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” you mumble.

“Why not?” he asks, feigning innocence. “You seem a little tense… I’m just trying to help you loosen up.”

You stay quiet, too flustered to answer. But when you shift in your seat, his eyes flick downward, and that quiet, knowing look returns. Like he remembers every little detail of how you reacted to him last night.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asks softly, and the way his voice drops sends a shiver down your spine.

You freeze. “I—No, I’m not—”

He leans in just slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Liar.”

Your breath catches, and you stare at him, wide-eyed, heart pounding. You know you should say something, push back, deny it again but the word just hangs there between you.

Liar.

And the worst part is… he’s right.

You drop your gaze, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap. The heat crawling up your neck makes it impossible to breathe right, and you’re sure your face is giving you away.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you, letting the silence stretch long enough for your nerves to tighten. You can feel the corner of his mouth lifting, like he’s waiting for you to squirm.

But when you don’t answer, his voice comes again, soft, teasing. “You know… you’re not very good at hiding things.”

You swallow hard. “I—I’m not hiding anything,” you mumble, even though you know it’s useless.

“Mm.” He makes a thoughtful noise, but there’s still that glint of amusement in his eyes. “If you say so.”

He leans in just a little closer, his voice dropping lower. “You’ve been avoiding my eyes all night. Getting all quiet and shy… Makes me wonder what you’re thinking about.”

You know he knows. You can see it in the slight curve of his lips, in the way his eyes flicker over your face. Like he’s taking in every tiny reaction.

But you can’t answer him. You’re too flustered, too overwhelmed by the warmth of his attention.

So you stay quiet.

After a moment, his smile softens, just a little. The teasing edge fades, and when he speaks again, his voice is gentler. “Relax,” he murmurs. “I’m only teasing you.”

You finally risk a glance up at him, your face still warm. “You’re not making it very easy,” you mumble.

That earns you a quiet chuckle. but this time, it’s softer. “Maybe not,” he admits. “But you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

Your stomach flips, and you have to look away again before your face burns any hotter. This was so wrong, you made up with your boyfriend. He’s suppose to be here with you, not his father with you. You still felt so guilty and terrible.. but he never put in any effort. Not like his father did. You quickly snapped out of your thoughts from him speaking again.

He watches you for a moment longer before finally sitting back in his chair, giving you a little space. “I’ll stop,” he says, his tone gentler now. The way he says it, light, playful, but with a promise behind its makes your pulse skip.

The two of you sit there in a strange kind of silence, not uncomfortable, but heavy in a way you can’t quite shake. You try not to fidget under his gaze, but you can feel it every so often, his eyes flicking toward you like he’s waiting for you to speak.

But you don’t. You’re not sure you even can.

After a moment, he breaks the quiet. “You look like you could use a drink,” he says, his voice light and easy.

You blink, turning toward him. “I—I can’t,” you say quickly. “I’m only eighteen.”

He raises a brow, clearly amused by your sudden nervousness. “And?”

You shift in your seat, glancing around the room. “And… my parents are here,” you say in a low voice. “If they saw—

“They won’t,” he interrupts gently, his voice smooth and calm. “No one will. It’ll be our little secret.”

Before you can argue, he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a sleek silver flask. Your eyes widen as you watch him unscrew the cap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Relax,” he says again, his voice soft. “Just a little. You seem… tense.”

“I—I don’t know…” you trail off, your heart pounding as you watch him.

He glances around the room, his eyes scanning the crowd, then leans in slightly, his movements slow, deliberate, and pours a splash of whatever’s in the flask into your empty water glass. The clear liquid darkens just a bit, the faint scent of alcohol drifting up.

When he looks back at you, there’s something almost gentle in his expression. “It’ll be fine,” he murmurs, his voice quiet enough that only you can hear. “No one’s paying attention. You won’t get in trouble.”

You hesitate, your fingers brushing the cool glass. “Are you sure…?”

“I promise.” The words are soft, almost soothing. “But if you don’t want to, I won’t push you.”

That makes it worse somehow, the way he’s so patient, so calm about it. Like he knows you’ll say yes eventually.

And maybe that’s why you finally pick up the glass, your heart thudding in your chest.

“It’s just one sip,” you whisper, half to convince yourself.

His eyes stay on you, dark and steady. “Just one.”

You bring the glass to your lips, heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. The smell alone makes you hesitate, but his eyes stay on you. calm, patient, and just a little bit amused.

You take a small sip.

The burn hits you immediately, sharp and bitter, and you barely manage to swallow it down without coughing. Your face scrunches up as the warmth spreads down your throat.

“Ew,” you whisper, setting the glass down quickly. “That’s… awful.”

He laughs. low and warm, clearly finding your reaction way too amusing. “It’s an acquired taste,” he says, still smiling. “But I think you handled that pretty well.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, still wincing. “I don’t think I want to ‘acquire’ it,” you mumble, making him chuckle again.

But you notice the way his eyes soften just a bit when he looks at you. like he’s enjoying this more than he should.

And then, a few minutes later, he nudges your glass toward you again. “One more sip,” he says, his voice smooth and gentle. “It gets better. I promise.”

You hesitate, but he’s watching you with that same calm patience, and something about the way he says it makes it hard to say no.

So you take another sip. It still burns, but the taste doesn’t seem as bad this time.

“See?” he murmurs, smiling. “Told you.”

~

Throughout the night, it keeps happening. Every time you think you’re done, he coaxes you into one more sip. Just one more. until the bitterness doesn’t seem as sharp, and the warmth spreading through you feels kind of nice.

You’re not even sure when you started relaxing. but the room feels softer somehow, and your nerves aren’t quite so tight anymore.

And every time your eyes meet his, you swear his smile grows just a little more satisfied.

Your head feels heavy, the room warm and hazy as you sink deeper into your chair. You blink slowly, the soft hum of conversation around you blurring together now. and the glass in your hand feels heavier than it should.

You hadn’t even realized how many times you’d listened to him. Just one more sip, he’d say, and you’d take it without thinking. And now everything feels slow and warm, your limbs loose and your thoughts fuzzy.

You let out a soft, tired sigh, your head tilting to the side. “I’m sleepy…” you mumble, your words slurring just a little.

He’s still there, sitting close . his eyes never really leaving you. The slight curve of his mouth hasn’t faded, but there’s something softer about his expression now. Amused, maybe. Or patient.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and gentle.

You nod, though the movement makes your head feel even heavier. “Jus’… tired…”

He watches you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face. Then, his voice dips lower. “I told you it’d get better,” he teases lightly.

You pout, your lips pressing into a soft little frown. “S’not better… it’s jus… weird…”

That makes him chuckle. a warm, quiet sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “You’re not used to it,” he says. “It takes time.”

But you’re too sleepy to care about that now. You shift in your chair, your eyes fluttering closed for just a second before you force them back open.

“Wanna go home…” you whisper, your voice soft and almost pleading. “I Wanna go to bed…”

His eyes stay on you, quiet and unreadable. “Your parents don’t seem ready to leave,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking toward them across the room. “They’re still having fun.”

You let out a soft, frustrated whine, sinking deeper into your chair. “I Don’t care… wanna go home…”

For a moment, he just watches you. and then you feel the lightest brush of his fingers against your wrist. “Why don’t we get you some air?” he suggests softly. “Might help you feel a little better.”

But you just shake your head, your body feeling too heavy and warm to move. “Jus’ wanna sleep…” you mumble again, your eyes slipping closed despite your best efforts.

And the last thing you hear is his voice, quiet and soft . as he murmurs, “Alright… just rest for a bit. I’ve got you.”

You shift in your seat, your body feeling so heavy and warm you can barely hold yourself up. Your head droops a little, and you let out a soft, sleepy whine.

“I Wanna go home…” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. “I Wanna sleep… not here…”

He watches you for a moment, his eyes steady and calm, but there’s a flicker of something else there. something thoughtful. Then he leans in a little closer, his voice soft and soothing.

“Alright,” he says quietly. “I’ll take you home.”

You blink up at him, your vision a little blurry. “But… my parents…”

“I’ll talk to them,” he reassures you, his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Before you can argue, not that you have the energy to , he stands up. You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he adjusts his jacket, casting one more glance your way.

“Just stay right here,” he murmurs. “I’ll be right back.”

You nod slowly, your body too heavy to do much else, and he walks off toward the crowd.

He finds your parents easily. still laughing and chatting with their friends, glasses of wine in hand. The last thing they’d notice is their daughter sitting off to the side, barely keeping her eyes open.

He approaches them smoothly, his voice warm and polite. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know, your daughter’s feeling a little tired. She asked if I could take her home so she could rest.”

Your mom frowns slightly. “Oh, is she okay?”

“Just worn out, I think,” he says easily, his tone reassuring. “It’s been a long day for her.”

Your dad glances toward where you’re sitting but can’t quite see you through the crowd. “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”

“Not at all,” he says, his smile calm and convincing. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Your mom hesitates, but the easy charm in his voice seems to put her at ease. “Alright… just tell her we’ll be home soon.”

“Of course,” he nods, already turning back toward you.

And as he walks through the room, there’s a quiet, satisfied curve to his lips.

You barely register the sound of his footsteps returning, but then his hand is on your shoulder, warm and steady. “Come on,” he murmurs softly. “Let’s get you home.

You blink up at him, your vision still fuzzy, and nod slowly. But when you try to stand, your legs feel wobbly and weak, and you sway a little. His hand moves to your waist immediately, steadying you.

“Easy,” he says, his voice low and gentle. “Just lean on me.”

You do. because you don’t really have a choice. The room tilts slightly around you, and the warmth of his hand fully around your waist is the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Try to act normal, okay?” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear. “We don’t want anyone asking questions.”

You nod again, your head bobbing against his shoulder, but you can’t stop the soft whine that escapes your lips as you cling to his arm. “I’m tired…” you mumble, your words slurring together.

“I know,” he soothes, guiding you through the room. “We’re almost there.”

You try to keep your head down, but it’s hard when everything feels so heavy and warm. You don’t even know how you make it outside without stumbling, or how no one notices the way you’re leaning so heavily against him.

The cool night air hits you, making you shiver a little. He tightens his grip just slightly, his hand firm against your waist as he leads you to his car. When he opens the door, you practically melt into the seat, your head falling back with a soft sigh.

The seatbelt clicks into place, and then he’s sliding into the driver’s side. But before he even starts the engine, your voice breaks the quiet.

“I Wanna go home…” you whisper again, your eyes barely open.

“I know,” he says softly, but there’s something in his voice, something darker, rougher.

And when his eyes flick over to you, watching the way you shift and squirm in the seat, still whining softly, you don’t see the way his jaw tightens, or the way his fingers flex against the steering wheel

Because that feeling from last night?

It’s back.

But this time he’s trying to hide it.

The drive is quiet except for your soft, sleepy murmurs. You shift in the seat, your head leaning to the side, and every so often you let out a little whine, still half-awake, still wanting to go home.

And he listens, his knuckles white against the steering wheel, but his face stays calm. Steady. Even though that strange, familiar feeling is still tugging at him, he pushes it down. He tells himself it’s nothing. Even after saying all these little things to you throughout the night, right now you were drunk and it was wrong. Last night it was completely up to the two of you, but now your vulnerable. Not even knowing what was going on.

When the car finally pulls into your driveway, you’re already half-asleep. He steps out first, walking around to your side and opening the door.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his hand warm on your arm as he helps you out. “We’re home.”

But your legs are just as wobbly as before, maybe worse, and you stumble into him with a soft noise, your forehead brushing against his chest.

“Sorry…” you mumble, your voice muffled against him.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, his arm slipping around your waist again. “Gonna pick you up, okay?.” You huff shakily. “mkay..” you whispered softly out. Feeling as his strong arms suddenly picked you up. Your arms instantly wrapped around his neck as his arm was tucked under your legs. Holding you in a bridal style way. And the way you wrapped your arms straight around his neck, just reminded him even more of last night.

The way your arms were wrapped around his neck, the way your legs wrapped around his torso. His lips on yours.

He shook his head, stop it. He thought to himself. He stepped inside. The house is quiet when he unlocks the door, your parents still at the party. He guides you inside, careful and patient as you shuffle toward the stairs. You cling to him without even thinking, your body too heavy and your thoughts too fuzzy.

By the time you reach your room, you’re barely standing. He eases you down onto the edge of your bed, crouching in front of you to slip off your shoes.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs again, his voice softer now. “You just need some rest.”

You nod, your eyelids fluttering shut. “Thank you…” you whisper, your words slow and drowsy.

He watches you for a moment. the way your face softens as sleep tugs at you, the way your body sways just slightly before you catch yourself. That feeling pulls at him again, but he pushes it back. He tells himself this isn’t the time.

Not yet.

“Get some sleep,” he says gently, standing up. “I’ll let your parents know you’re home safe.”

But as he turns to leave, your hand catches his wrist, your fingers soft and warm against his skin.

“Stay…?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

And for a long moment, he just stands there. watching you, his face unreadable. He didn’t want to stay, because he knew if he did he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

But he hesitates for a moment, the quiet in the room settling between you. His eyes flicker to yours, soft but unreadable, as if he’s unsure whether he should give in.

“Alright,” he says quietly, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Just for a little while.”

He sits down beside you on the bed, his presence calm but steady. You can feel his warmth next to you, and even though his demeanor is composed, there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you feel both safe and vulnerable.

“You should rest,” he murmurs, but his voice doesn’t sound like an order, more like a quiet suggestion. He watches you for a moment as you sit up, the softness in your eyes drawing him in.

And for a while, the two of you just sit there in silence, until you find yourself swaying slightly, your head eventually coming to rest against his shoulder. The warmth of the alcohol in your system makes everything feel soft and hazy, and before you can stop yourself, your fingers are curling loosely into the fabric of his sleeve.

"Don't go yet," you mumble, your words slightly slurred but gentle. "Just... stay here for a bit longer." You nestle closer, seeking his warmth, too tipsy to be self-conscious about your need for comfort.

With a surge of boldness, you shift slightly, lifting your head from his shoulder. The world spins just a little as you move, but you manage to steady yourself. Your hand trails up his arm, coming to rest gently against his cheek, turning his face toward yours.

Your lips brush against his other cheek, soft and fleeting like a whisper. The contact sends a small shiver through you, and you linger there for just a moment, breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne. When you pull back, your faces are close enough that you can see the subtle shift in his expression, the way his eyes soften at the edges.

His breath catches slightly at your touch, and you feel the way his jaw tenses beneath your fingertips. There's a moment of hesitation where neither of you moves, the air between you charged with unspoken tension.

His eyes meet yours, dark and questioning. Even through your alcohol-induced haze, you can see the conflict there. the way he's struggling between what he wants and what he thinks he should do. His hand comes up to cover yours, but he doesn't pull it away from his face. Instead, his thumb traces gentle circles against your skin.

"You're drunk," he whispers, but he doesn't move away. If anything, he leans slightly into your touch, betraying his own desires despite his words of caution.

"okay.. but-" you admit softly, "i- I know what I want." Your fingers curl slightly against his cheek, and you feel rather than hear the sharp intake of his breath.

He didn’t say anything. Sitting there, letting you do as you pleased. So soft like he was and used by it. Your eyes looked at him all hazy and sift. But a hint of confusion to why there was a skein plastered on his lips. Your head tilted gently. His hand reaching to gently brush a piece of hair out your face. His fingers lingered on skin for a moment, softly brushing down the side of your neck, causing you to shiver slightly. He chuckled lightly. “pretty.” He said quietly. Almost like he was egging you on. Wanting you to do something.

Your breath hitched slightly at his touch, the warmth of his fingers leaving a faint trail of goosebumps down your neck. You weren’t sure if it was the way he was looking at you, calm, unreadable, but still somehow expectant. or if it was just the way your heart felt heavy in your chest, the alcohol still making your thoughts feel slow and unsteady.

Your lips parted, but you didn’t know what to say. There was something in the way he said pretty. like he was testing you, waiting for a reaction.

Your fingers curled against the fabric of your dress, gripping it lightly as you tried to steady yourself. “Y-You keep looking at me like that,” you murmured, your voice soft and slow, “but I don’t know what you want.”

His smile didn’t falter, but something flickered in his eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? He tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing along his own fingers as he rested his hand on his knee.

“I don’t want anything,” he said smoothly, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice, like he enjoyed seeing you this way. uncertain, flustered, clinging onto every little thing he did.

You swallowed, shifting slightly where you sat. The air between you was thick, heavy with something unspoken.

He leaned back slightly, his gaze still locked onto you, unreadable yet somehow still drawing you in. “You’re tired,” he finally murmured, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. “You should rest.”

It wasn’t a dismissal. But it also wasn’t an invitation. It was something in between, and it left you unsure of what to do next. He knew he wanted it as badly as you did. But figuring it’d be fun playing around with you, knowing how drunk you were.

A flicker of annoyance sparked in your chest. His tone was so calm, so controlled, while you felt like a mess, warm, restless, and still buzzing from everything that had happened. He was toying with you, wasn’t he? Letting you get worked up, watching as you sat there all dazed and unsteady, hanging onto his every word.

Your fingers curled against the fabric of your dress, gripping it tighter. “You’re so… f-frustrating,” you muttered, your voice slightly slurred from exhaustion and the alcohol still clouding your thoughts. Your brows furrowed as you stared at him, eyes hazy but sharp with irritation.

He only smiled, unbothered. “Am I?” His voice was smooth, teasing, like he found amusement in your frustration.

That only made it worse.

Without another thought, you leaned forward, closing the space between you. You weren’t thinking, weren’t weighing the consequences, weren’t questioning whether this was right or wrong. You just wanted to shut him up, to break through that irritating composure of his, to see if he’d finally react.

Your lips brushed against his, quick, unsteady, and impulsive.

For a second, everything stilled.

His body didn’t move, didn’t tense. He just sat there, letting you do as you pleased, just like before. The warmth of his lips lingered against yours for a brief moment before you pulled back, your breath uneven, heart hammering in your chest.

You expected some kind of reaction. shock, amusement, maybe even scolding. But instead, he just looked at you, still unreadable, his expression frustratingly calm.

And then, slowly, he exhaled a quiet chuckle. “Was that supposed to prove something?”

His voice was low, steady, but there was something different in his gaze now. Something unreadable, yet undeniably focused on you.

His eyes flickered over your face, watching the way your breath hitched, the way frustration and something deeper swirled behind your gaze. The bravado you had just seconds ago was already slipping, replaced with something softer, something needy.

For a moment, he just let the silence stretch between you. Then, finally, he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing just the slightest bit.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” he murmured, almost to himself. But there was no edge to his voice anymore, no teasing. Just quiet understanding.

Your lips parted as if to protest, but before you could get a single word out, he moved.

Slowly, deliberately, his hand lifted, fingers brushing along your jaw before settling against the side of your face. His touch was warm, steady, and this time, he wasn’t testing you. He wasn’t waiting for you to make the move.

He was giving in.

He leaned in, closing the space between you, his lips pressing against yours. not rushed, not hesitant, but familiar. Like last night. Except now, you weren’t in the haze of anger or reckless defiance. Now, it was just the two of you, in the quiet comfort of your room.

Your breath trembled against his mouth as you melted into him, your body instinctively leaning closer, like it had been waiting for this. His other hand came to rest against your waist, grounding you, holding you steady.

This time, he wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t holding back.

And neither were you.

His lips pressed against yours, slightly rougher than before, hands gripping your hips the same way they did last night. You were needier this time, your head buzzed. Though thoughts were cloudy, you knew you wanted this as much as he did. His hands grasped your hips as he tugged you into his lap. At the headboard of your bed, his back pressed against it while he helped your legs straddle him, lips still pressed to yours. His tongue brushed softly against your lip, making you sigh.

You parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slip in with ease, brushing against yours and causing a soft whimper to escape. It was like music to his ears, bringing a slight grin to his lips. His hands ran down your thighs gently. Your dress bunched around your thighs and hips from the position. Your hands rested on his chest.

The room was dim, filled only with the sounds of your kisses, hands brushing against one another, and the slight buzz of your phone. You were too absorbed to notice. His lips broke from yours to press soft, rapid kisses down your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut, mouth parting slightly as soft sighs and subtle whimpers escaped. Eyes opening hazily, you noticed your phone light up in your peripheral vision.

He glanced up, following your gaze, and saw your phone lighting up with texts and calls from his son. "Wha—who's that?" you whispered, not seeing the name. He stopped kissing your neck, reaching over to shut the phone off and flip it face-down on the bed. "No one, baby. Don't worry about it," he whispered tenderly. You listened easily, quickly forgetting as his lips returned to your neck. Growing impatient again, eager just like yesterday, you shifted. He sensed it, smirking—you could feel the curve of his smile against your neck.

"Be patient now..." he whispered teasingly but quiet. You huffed, annoyed, still droopy and hazy from the buzz. Lifting your head to meet his, you pressed your lips back to his, eager and slightly sloppy. He smiled, letting you do as you pleased, kissing back lightly, amused by your attempts to take control and hurry him along. But he wouldn't, not yet. As you kissed him, he positioned you onto his thigh, your sweet spot pressed right against it. You didn't notice until you shifted slightly, trying to sit up, only to move against him.

A light whimper left your mouth as he parted your lips from his. Your lips were slightly swollen and shiny with mixed saliva, eyes big and woozy. He grinned. "Hm?" he hummed, acting as if he didn’t do anything. "What is it?" "R-that—" you mumbled softly, barely able to speak. His hand brushed a fallen strand of hair from your face before he leaned down, nuzzling your neck. You huffed shakily, eyes closing again. Now was his chance. His hands slipped back to your hips, slightly moving them, causing you to rub against his thigh. You whined softly. "Mm—" you hummed. "You like that?" he whispered, his hot breath tickling your neck. "Mhm," you hummed once more. He didn't say anything. He just continued. He lightly moved your dress up, causing it to bunch around your hips. His Hands gripping your hips as he began to gently move them again. Causing you to move against his clothed thigh again.

He slid his hands down your thighs once more, gripping them firmly as he guided your movements. Your breathing grew heavier, mixing with soft whimpers that escaped your lips. His mouth found your neck again, trailing hot kisses down to your collarbone. The friction against his thigh made your head spin even more, clouding your thoughts further.

"Such pretty sounds you make," he murmured against your skin, one hand moving to cup your face. His thumb traced your bottom lip gently, his dark eyes watching you intently. You could barely focus, lost in the sensations as he continued to guide your hips in a steady rhythm.

Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, nails digging in slightly through his shirt. He groaned quietly at the feeling, his free hand squeezing your hip in response. The room felt impossibly hot now, making your dress cling to your skin. You wanted more - needed more - but he kept you there, working you up slowly with deliberate movements.

More frequent whimpers began to leave your lips, making him more and more aroused. God, now he needed something now. Hands loosening slightly on your hips as he let you do as you wanted now. Your hands gripped his shoulders. Feeling yourself lost in the pleasure.

His breath grew ragged as he watched you chase your pleasure, your movements becoming more desperate and erratic. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as waves of pleasure coursed through you. He groaned at the sensation, his hands sliding up your back under your dress.

"That's it.” he whispered softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "Cmon.." His words sent shivers down your spine, making your movements falter slightly. He steadied you with his hands on your waist, guiding you back into rhythm.

Your forehead pressed against his as your breathing became more labored. His eyes watching your closed ones, dark with desire, watching every expression that crossed your face. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building with each movement against his thigh.

He had you gasping, your fingers gripping his shoulders as the wave of pleasure washed over you. It left you breathless, your body still trembling as you sat on his lap, vulnerable and lightheaded.

The dizziness lingered, making your head spin, and you let it rest against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. His hand traced slow, soothing circles on your back through the soft fabric of your black dress. Yet, despite your exhaustion, his dark eyes remained hungry. He knew you were tired—but he couldn’t help himself. He needed more. After giving you so much, it was his turn to take.

Now, you were at your most vulnerable.

“Can you do something for me, honey?” he whispered, his voice low and smooth.

Your eyes fluttered open, still hazy from the lingering buzz. Your mind felt sluggish, barely processing his words.

“Hm… yeah,” you mumbled, your speech slightly slurred.

He smirked. “Yeah?” he echoed, double-checking, not because he needed to, but because he liked hearing you say it.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, nodding slowly as your gaze met his. His hands slid to your hips, guiding you off his lap. You let out a small yawn as you crawled off him, flopping onto the soft comforter of your bed. All you wanted was to curl up and sleep.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you turned onto your side, eyes already closing—

“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, his hands finding your waist to pull you upright again.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes. “C-Can we just do it tomorrow?” you mumbled, oblivious to what he wanted.

His gaze was dark, hungry, far from sweet and patient. He wasn’t going to wait anymore.

“No. Sit up,” he commanded firmly. But as he took in your tired, dazed expression, his eyes softened. Just a little.

He exhaled slowly, his grip on your waist loosening just a bit. You blinked up at him, still groggy, barely aware of the way his gaze roamed over you.

“Come on, just for a little,” he coaxed, voice softer now, though the edge of impatience still lingered beneath it.

You sighed, sitting up reluctantly, your body still heavy with exhaustion. “What- i-is it?” you murmured, rubbing at your eyes.

His fingers trailed up your arm, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver through your already tired body. “Just stay awake for me,” he said. “I need you for a little longer.”

You swallowed, sensing the shift in his tone. It wasn’t a request.

His hands found your wrists, thumbs stroking over your pulse as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Your breath hitched. Even through the haze of exhaustion, there was something in his voice that made it impossible to say no.

He saw the hesitation in her eyes—that soft, uncertain look. But he knew she’d give in anyway.

Tilting his head slightly, he studied her, waiting. And then, slowly, she nodded.

“Good,” he murmured, a satisfied hum slipping from his lips.

His fingers curled around her hand, guiding her upright. With a gentle but deliberate tug, he pulled her off the bed. His hands slid to her shoulders, coaxing her down until she was kneeling on the wooden floor in front of him. Exactly where he wanted her.

Your head was swimming, vision slightly blurred as you looked up at him. He reached down, fingers threading through your hair as he observed you with dark, hungry eyes. Despite your exhaustion, something about his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

"That's my girl," he purred, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. You parted them instinctively, earning a low chuckle from above. "So good, even when you're tired."

His other hand moved to cup your jaw, tilting your face up further. You blinked slowly, trying to focus through the haze. The room seemed to spin slightly, but his firm grip kept you steady, anchored to the moment.

His hands moved to the buttons of his pants, undoing them with calm, deliberate ease. But beneath that controlled exterior, he was eager—craving the warmth of your lips, the touch of your hands. And the way you watched him the entire time, eyes fixed on him with that quiet anticipation. It only made him harder.

He let out a slow breath, his gaze locked onto yours as he pushed his pants down just enough. Black boxers visible, but he tugged those down too. He hard length visible now, your eyes all fuzzy and fixated on it. And god, he loved it. His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up to him.

“Open,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

Your lips parted instinctively, your breath warm against the skin of his rough hand. His thumb traced over your lower lip, watching the way you shivered under his touch.

“Good girl,” he praised, his tone laced with both patience and hunger.

His other hand tangled into your hair, guiding you closer.

Your lips parted as you felt the tip of his cock slip into your mouth. A low sultry groan leaving his lips. Finally, feeling you on him. His eyes looking down at you. Dark and filled with lust. “Hm” he hummed quietly. His larger hands went to tangle in your hair. Your bow that was once in your hair now slipped out and on the floor beside you. Your dress bunched up around your thighs. He was big.

Your lips parted as he tip pressed against them, slipping into the wetness of your mouth. a deep, sultry groan slipping from his throat the moment he finally felt your warmth. His dark, hooded eyes stayed locked onto you, heavy with hunger.

“Hm,” he hummed, low and satisfied.

His fingers threaded through your hair, his grip firm yet teasing. The ribbon that once held your hair neatly in place slipped free, forgotten on the floor beside you. Your dress had ridden up around your thighs, the fabric pooling as you shifted.

He was big—his presence overwhelming, intoxicating. And he knew it.

His hand tightened in your hair as he guided you further, watching with dark satisfaction as more of his length disappeared between your parted lips. Your eyes fluttered, struggling to stay focused as the combination of alcohol and exhaustion made everything hazy. Eyes blurring with tears as you softly gagged. Feeling the tip of his cock hit a he back of your mouth endlessly.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, waiting until your bleary gaze met his. "mmh good."

His hips moved slowly at first, careful, measured thrusts that let you adjust to his size in your mouth. But his patience was wearing thin. Each wet sound, each small groan that vibrated around him, pushed him closer to the edge of his control.

Your hands rested weakly on his thighs, trying to steady yourself as he began to pick up his pace. The room spun slightly, but his firm grip in your hair kept you grounded, focused on the task at hand.

"That's it. " he groaned, watching your lips stretch around him. Teary eyes looking up at him. His sons girlfriend, all pretty like this below him.

His hands gripped your hair as he forced himself down your throat, making your eyes shut tightly. Tears poured down your face between desperate gags. Your hands clutched his thighs. One of his hands held your hair back from your face while the other gently wiped tears from your cheek. With a final thrust of his hips, he let out a deep groan, his head falling back. You felt his member twitch in your mouth before slipping out. A shaky gasp escaped your lips as you tried to catch your breath, eyes blinking rapidly. But he wasn't done, not yet.

Your wide, teary eyes gazed up at him before dropping to his hand. "Open," he instructed firmly. You obeyed immediately, your cheeks stained with tears and hair disheveled from his grip. Your lips parted, tongue extended, and your eyes fluttered as warm liquid spilled onto your tongue and face. You flinched slightly, your body burning and breath ragged. "Swallow," he whispered strictly. You complied, closing your mouth and swallowing everything. He adjusted himself, pulling his boxers and pants back on. A gentle chuckle escaped him—the sight of you like this, eyes teary and face a mess. Mixed with his come and tears, amused him. With a smile playing on his lips, he helped brush away your stray tears and cleaned your face with gentle strokes. His fingers gathered the remnants, then pressed them to your lips. You whimpered softly, understanding his intent, and sucked his fingers clean.

“So good.”

This feels so rushed HELLO IM SORRY

IT WILL NOT LET ME TAG ANYBODY HELLO IM SO SORRU OMG💔

Hey,

Could I possibly get a fic of:

Salesman x female! reader, where he's your boyfriend's dad and his son decided to do the NNN challenge. So you had a slight argument with him which made you storm off downstairs. The salesman showed you how a real man can make you feel ;)

Hooe this is okay 🤍

Breaking the rules

Salesman/gong yoo x f! reader part 2 here!

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | After a fight with your boyfriend over his “challenge” you find comfort in his father.. who’s more than willing to show you what you’ve been missing and how a real man can make you feel.

⚠︎︎- DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT - age gap, (readers 18, he’s in late thirties) gentle praise, kinda slow burn, slowly giving in, dom x sub reader, fingering, female reader, teasing, use of pet names, overstimulation, crying, sweet talk, talking you through it, let me know if I missed anything!

You slammed the bedroom door behind you, the sharp click echoing down the quiet hallway. Your heart was pounding , half from frustration, half from disbelief. Of all the ridiculous things your boyfriend could’ve decided to commit to, this had to be the most infuriating.

“It’s just a month,” he’d said with that smug little shrug, like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t matter. All for some stupid bet with his friends.

Your soft sock covered feet padded down the stairs, your skin still warm with irritation. You weren’t sure where you were going — you just needed to get away before you said something you couldn’t take back. Walking to the door to get your shoes from beside it. The soft hum of the TV drifted from the living room, drawing your attention.

There he was.

Your boyfriend’s young father sat comfortably on the couch, sleeves of his white long sleeved button up rolled up and collar slightly undone, his usual air of calm confidence wrapped around him like a second skin. His eyes flicked up when he noticed you, dark and curious — and when he smiled, slow and knowing, something about it made your breath catch. You knew you shouldn’t think it, but you did. You found him attractive. I mean come on, he’s single and young.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked, his voice smooth and warm.

You hesitated, but the words were already slipping out. “Your son’s an idiot.”

He chuckled, low and rich. “That so?” He patted the spot beside him. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

And just like that, you were already crossing the room. You needed to get it off your chest. Tell somebody. You were about to talk before you heard the soft footsteps running downstairs and straight out the door. It was your boyfriend, seeming to already run out the door and not even check around his house for you. Just running right past you, god he really was stupid. You huffed shakily and softly. Shaking your head and you rubbed your eyes. It was just you and his father now..

You sank onto the couch next to him, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you tried , and failed to push down the frustration still simmering inside you. He watched you with quiet interest, one arm stretched lazily along the back of the couch, his body angled just enough toward you to feel… attentive. Close.

“So,” he prompted, his voice low and smooth, “what did my son do this time?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “He decided to do that stupid November challenge thing.” Your voice was filled with embarrassment but also a hint of frustration.

He raised a brow, amused. “Ah. That explains the storming off.”

You glanced at him, heat rising to your face. “It’s not funny.” You mumbled softly and quietly. Each time you glanced at him, his eyes were always looking straight back into yours. And you hated that it made you feel some type of way. This was your boyfriends father for heavens sake.. nothing could ever happen.. right?

“Oh, I’m not laughing,” he said, though the curve of his mouth suggested otherwise. “I just find it… surprising.” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over you slowly. “If I were him, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

Your breath caught, pulse skipping. You told yourself it was the anger, the need for validation that made you shiver at his words. But the way he was looking at you… like he was seeing something his son had been too foolish to appreciate…

It made your skin tingle.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you murmured, but there wasn’t much conviction in your voice. It was clear you were shy right now. And he loved it, he loved seeing you so vulnerable from his words and the way they so badly affected you. The way you’d look down to hide the pink tint growing on your soft little cheeks. Or maybe it was the way your voice grew quieter and shakier each time you spoke.

“And why not?” he countered, his voice dipping lower. “It’s only the truth.”

For a moment, the room was too quiet. the only sound your shallow breathing and the faint noise from the TV. His eyes held yours, dark and steady, and you couldn’t ignore the heat settling low in your stomach.

“Would you really let him leave you wanting like this?” He asked softly, his fingers brushing just barely against your arm, the lightest, most teasing touch. “You deserve better than that.”

Your throat tightened, every nerve in your body suddenly on edge. You knew you should get up, leave before this went somewhere you couldn’t take back. But you didn’t move.

And when his hand slid slowly to your knee, you knew you weren’t going to stop him.

You tried to steady your breath as his hand lingered on your knee, the weight of it sending a thousand shivers up your spine. The tension in the air was thick, the silence between you two somehow more charged than anything you’d ever felt before. Your eyes glanced down at his hand displayed over your knee. The way his large hand covered it completely made you feel some type of way. His eyes lingered on you, watching you as your eyes looked at his hand.

But he didn’t move any further, his hand resting there, a quiet challenge. His eyes flicked to your face, studying your reactions, waiting for you to say something, to make the next move. But you stayed frozen, unsure of what to do. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, the heat creeping up your neck.

“Feeling tense?” he asked quietly, his voice smooth like silk.

You swallowed, finally looking away from him. “It’s not- that.” Your words were weak, betraying you, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. The truth.

He shifted closer just slightly, his hand still on your knee, fingers lightly pressing into your skin. “Then what’s bothering you?” His tone was calm, casual even, but there was a trace of something else in it. Something that made your pulse race.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just feel… off.”

His fingers tightened a little, not enough to be forceful but just enough to send a spark of warmth up your leg. One that led straight to the sweet spot between your thighs. “I can help with that.” His voice was low, steady, like a promise you weren’t sure you should take.

You shook your head, but the movement was slow, as if your body wasn’t quite in sync with your mind. “No… I—”

“Why fight it?” he murmured, his eyes looking at you. The way they were soft with a light welcoming look. The slight tilt of his head and his small smile. It made it harder to resist him seeing him look at you like this. Like he could do better then him, then his own son… His thumb grazing your skin in slow, deliberate circles. His touch was soft but insistent, gentle yet firm, and your breath hitched as it stirred something deep inside you.

“I’m not…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, not when he was looking at you like that, like he knew exactly what you needed. And worse, you realized, you might want it.

He leaned back slightly, his hand still resting on your knee, but his gaze never left yours. “You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be with me,” he said softly. “But don’t pretend I don’t see the way you’re reacting.”

You opened your mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. He was right, you were reacting. Your body was betraying you, betraying the little voice in your head that screamed at you to walk away. But you didn’t move. You were stuck, caught in the pull of something you couldn’t explain.

His eyes softened, as if he were waiting for you to make up your mind. The silence stretched between you, heavy, filled with a thousand unspoken thoughts. And for the first time, you weren’t sure which direction you wanted to go in.

“Take your time,” he said finally, his voice low and knowing. “I’ll be right here.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Not yet.

The air between you felt charged, thick with the kind of tension that couldn’t be ignored. His hand still rested on your knee, but now it felt more like a claim than a simple touch. The heat of his palm seemed to burn through your skin, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, assessing you, waiting for you to make the next move.

You shifted uncomfortably, heart pounding as your thoughts scrambled for control. Every part of you screamed that this was wrong, he was your boyfriend’s father. but the longer you sat there, the more it seemed like a distant thought, a fleeting memory. All you could focus on was how his presence seemed to take up the entire room, how his hand on your knee felt like it was pulling you in, inch by inch.

His gaze softened, but there was something predatory in it, something calculating. He wasn’t in a hurry. He was giving you time, but only so much. He was waiting for you to give in and deep down, you knew you were already halfway there.

“You seem conflicted,” he said, his voice a smooth purr that sent a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushed across your knee, slow, deliberate, as if marking territory. “You don’t have to be.”

You swallowed, struggling to keep your composure. “I— I don’t think this is a good idea.”

His smile was slow, knowing. He didn’t move his hand, but the pressure increased ever so slightly. His fingers, strong and sure, began to travel upwards just a little, stopping just above your knee, and you exhaled quietly and softly. He didn’t apologize for it, didn’t back off. Instead, he leaned in a fraction “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

His words made your pulse quicken, a flicker of heat spreading through your chest. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but not in a way that made you want to pull away. His touch was measured, controlled, and you could feel the power in it. He was taking the reins, guiding you, making the decisions for you, and for reasons you couldn’t fully understand, you didn’t mind.

His hand slid higher on your thigh, the soft pressure making it harder to breathe. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to think about what you were doing, but your body didn’t listen. The words, echoed in your head, amplifying the ache that had started deep within you. Your body had already betrayed you, had already decided what it wanted, and you could feel it, impossible to ignore now.

You took a shaky breath, words stuck in your throat, but your body betrayed you further as you leaned just a little closer to him, almost as if you were asking for more, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“There you go..” he murmured, as if sensing your surrender, his hand shifting once again, this time pressing firmly into the soft flesh of your thigh. The feeling was almost enough to make you forget everything, the rules, the consequences. All that mattered was him.

His fingers brushed higher, stopping just shy of a place that would make you lose control entirely. His touch was deliberate, each move slow and calculated, designed to make you feel it in every inch of your skin.

He pulled back slightly, looking at you, studying you, like he could see everything you were hiding. Your breath hitched as his fingers moved gently across your skin, making you ache for something you weren’t sure you were ready to admit to yourself.

Then, with barely a pause, he leaned in, his lips brushing your cheek. The contact was light, almost teasing, but there was no mistaking the way he angled his head, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was controlled, possessive, but somehow gentle all at once.

You didn’t pull back. Instead, you melted into the kiss, your hands finding their way to his chest, your body leaning in closer, asking for more without saying a word.

He deepened the kiss slowly, his mouth firm against yours, a gentle pressure that made your heart race. His hand moved again, now firmly on your waist, pulling you into him just as his tongue traced the line of your lips. A soft quiet whimper left your mouth, and something inside of him shifted.

And when you kissed him back, you knew, without a doubt, you weren’t going to walk away from this. You weren’t going to fight it anymore.

He gently tugged you closer, his large hands softly gripping your hips and lifting you onto his lap. He guided your legs to straddle him, your lighter frame settling easily against him. His lips pressed harder against yours as one hand trailed to the back of your head, deepening the kiss. In one swift motion, he stood effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips and your arms encircled his neck. You pulled back slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips. "Shh," he whispered, quickly capturing your mouth again as he carried you to his bedroom. He shut the door with his foot, holding you securely in his strong arms.

His grip tightened ever so slightly as he lowered you onto the bed, your back meeting the cool sheets. He hovered above you, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. One of his hands traced down your side, You arched into his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"please" you whispered against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair. He responded by pressing his body closer, the weight of him deliciously heavy against you. His kisses grew more urgent, more demanding, as his hands explored every inch of you they could reach.

“please?” He said lowly. Almost in a soft teasing matter. A mocking matter that couldn’t help but make you whimper slightly. His mouth trailed down your neck, leaving a path of heated kisses that made you shiver. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin.

"mmm your so pretty" he murmured against your collarbone, his voice rough with desire. His hands roamed your clothed body, memorizing every curve, every response. You gasped as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, your body arching instinctively into his touch.

He stopped before smirking against your neck. “is that good? hm?” He said like a soft hum against your neck that made you shiver. “y-yeah” you whispered out shakily and softly. Before he began again, your eyes fluttering shut.

The moonlight filtering through the window illuminated shadows across his muscled form through his white button up as he moved above you. Your hands on the broad expanse of his back, feeling the strength there, the way his muscles flexed beneath your fingertips through his clothed body. Time lost all meaning as you lost yourself in him, in the way he made you feel.

Your hands slipped down to his arms, softly tugging at his sleeves as you tried to sit up. He didn't let you, his hand gently pushing you back down, his face still nuzzled in your neck. A soft "mm-mm" left his lips like a purr. Another whimper escaped your mouth—you wanted more. "P-please," you whispered shakily. "Please what honey?" he whispered back, his voice low and filled with that familiar teasing tone again. He lifted his head to look at you, tilting it slightly. "I-I want more." That was all he needed to hear before he smirked.

His hand moved to the white buttons of his shirt, unfastening them with ease. His eyes lingered on you the entire time while yours followed his fingers' movements. Your gaze flicked back up to meet his as he smiled softly, leaning down to kiss your lips while undoing the last button. So he figured maybe you wanted to do it. "Help me, yeah?" he said gently. Your hands instantly went to his shirt, helping him slip it down his shoulders and off. His broad chest and muscular shoulders were now exposed, and your eyes instantly fixed on them, your cheeks pink with embarrassment and shyness. He couldn't help but love seeing that look in your eye.

His hands gently guided your body to sit up as he was propped up. Large hands on your waist as you sat up. His eyes looking into yours as they lingered around the bottom of your shirt. Fiddling with it gently, his eyes boring into yours as if asking permission to take it off, and you nodded. Eyes all shy and filled with nervousness. Doing all this made you forget this was your boyfriends dad.. and the fact he’s so much older than you as-well. And when he saw the nod of your head he was already tugging your shirt up.

“Arms up” he said softly. You did as he said, lifting your arms up, and he swiftly took the top off of you. Eyes going straight to linger on your body. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment mixed with a hint of shyness. Eyes looking at him and looking for type of reaction. But all you were able to see was the look of admiration.

Being left in only a light pink simple bra that hugged lightly against your breasts and the light blue jean shorts you wore with the shirt, that was now off. He didn’t say anything, just leaning forward to press his lips back on yours. Pushing your body back on the bed, the now warm sheets pressing against your bare lower back. His lips came off of yours, just to nuzzle back into your neck. You sighed softly. Eyes fluttering back shut.

His kisses against your neck made you whimper, soft quiet moans or whines leaving your lips with each kiss he left. He then began trailing down further. Beginning to kiss softly along your collar bone and shoulder. His hand brushing up your tummy as it trailed further up. cupping lightly around your breast as he squeezed gently, making you softly gasp. Your lips all swollen from the kisses.

His other hand lingering on your waist. He trailed his kisses back up, your eyes opening as they softly looked at him. His lips kissing the corners of your mouth and cheeks. Eyes looking into yours the whole time. The soft whine that left your mouth was the last thing he heard before both of his hands slipped to your hips. Hands going to the buttons of your jean shorts.

Eyes boring back into yours with that look of curiosity, wanting permission. You quickly nodded. It was almost amusing to him seeing how quickly you were giving into him. A soft low chuckle leaving him. Eyes moving down to look at your thighs pressed together. His hands moving to undo the button on your shorts.

“making me do all this work” he said teasingly with a slight smirk on his lips. You opened your mouth to speak. “Well because your not letting me do anything” you replied. He stopped, and your heart skipped in your chest. “Well do you wanna do it?” You looked at him.

Thinking, before shaking your head. It would be quite embarrassing, a young girl trying to control a man like him. “that’s what I thought.” He said quietly. Unzipping the zipper just below the button as he tugged the jeans shorts down to your ankles. Sitting back slightly to pull them fully off your legs. Your thighs instinctively pressing together. Now wearing just your bra and white cotton panties. And his eyes went straight to your thighs. Seeing the way they pressed together made him grin. “don’t be shy now, we’ve gotten so far.” He whispered. His hands slipping between your thighs to separate them. Then trailing up to your knees as your legs were propped open. “keep ‘em like that okay? Don’t wanna keep telling you.” You nodded. You’ve only ever done this with your boyfriend once. And now his dad is doing it with you. God..

One of his hands went back to your head, gently propping it against one of his soft pillows on his bed. Then he brushed a piece of hair out your face, tucking it behind your ear as he smiled. His hand lingered on your cheek. Before his other hand softly caressed the inside of your thigh, just below your sensitive area. You let out a shaky huff. Eyes flicking around for a moment before back at him. His eyes were studying you, studying for your reactions and the way your face changed with each movement of his hand.

He then took his ring and middle finger. Pressing it gently against your clit through your panties. You let out a soft quiet whine. Your head shifting, you couldn’t hold the eye contact. Not with the way he was already making you feel. He let out a low chuckle. One that made you feel embarrassed because you knew exactly what he was laughing at. “look at you.. all wet.” He whispered lowly. His breath tickling against your ear. Your cheeks burning. His hand that was on your cheek coming off as it went to the waistline of your panties. Both of his hands tugging them down your thighs, dragging them down your legs as they pooled at your ankles. Legs propped up and fully exposed to him. You shivered at the cool air against your bare sweet spot.

He took his time, his fingers trailing back up your thigh, slow and teasing. His eyes stayed on you the whole time- dark, intense, and focused like he was savoring every reaction you gave him. You squirmed under his gaze, your breath uneven, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with something that sent a shiver through you. His fingertips brushed just barely where you needed him most, and your body responded immediately, arching into his touch. That same low chuckle escaped him again , amused, knowing, and it only made the heat in your cheeks rise.

“Still so shy?” he teased, his breath warm against your skin. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

But it was hard not to when every little movement of his hand made your body react so easily. You bit your lip, your eyes fluttering shut as his touch grew bolder. His other hand traced along your waist, grounding you, his fingers pressing just enough to keep you still.

“Look at me,” he whispered after a moment. It was gentle, but there was a quiet authority in his voice that made your heart skip. When you finally met his eyes, his gaze softened. but there was still that edge of heat, that quiet confidence that made you feel completely at his mercy.

“Good,” he murmured, and the way he said it made your pulse race. “Keep looking at me please” he whispered. His two fingers then slipped back down to your sweet spot. Softly rubbing your clit. You moaned softly. Head leaning back on the pillow. Eyes fluttering shut once more. His eyes watching your face the whole time he did this to you.

His fingers slipped down to your entrance. Rubbing softly there aswell, making you squirm and whimper. Back arching slightly. Wanting him to just do it already, a huff leaving your swollen lips. It was clear to him you were getting impatient. “Eager now, are we?” He said teasingly with that smirk on his lips. You opened your mouth to respond, but that was quickly cut off with a soft moan. Feeling one of his thick fingers slip into your sweet entrance.

Eyebrows furrowing softly. It was only one finger, but gosh his hands were bigger then your boyfriends. “Oh?” He said lowly. Seeing the way you quickly reacted. “Is that good? Hm? is that good honey?” he said quietly. Face nuzzling into your neck as he kissed it softly. His finger pumping slowly in and out of you. Making you whimper and squirm. Soft gasps and whines leaving you every so often. Your breath now heavier, shakier. You wanted another, you could take it. Right?..

“A-more” you whimpered shakily. He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Another huh?” You nodded eagerly. His other hand coming up to rest on your cheek once more. You felt him stop. A soft huff leaving your lips before you felt another finger slip in. Instantly letting out a shaky gasp. He chuckled, eyes watching you the whole time. Both of his thick fingers beginning to pump in and out of you. Maybe you couldn’t take it.

Your eyes shut tight as your back slightly arched up off the soft covers of the bed. Frequent whimpers and moans leaving your lips that just egged him on more. His fingers began to speed up, curling every so often just to hear that soft high pitch moan leave your mouth. It was too much now, eyes stinging with tears of pleasure and the feeling of being overwhelmed. And he saw, but that just riled him on more. Loving the sight of your tears.

His eyes never left your face, completely focused on every little movement you made — the way your breath quickened, the soft whimpers you couldn’t hold back, the way your body responded without you even thinking. That look in his eyes was intense, dark, and full of something that made your skin heat, a mix of control and quiet admiration, like he was taking in every bit of you.

“Is it too much, baby?” he asked softly, his voice a gentle tease. But there was something tender underneath it too, something that made your heart ache. His fingers slowed just enough to give you a moment to breathe. only to pick up again before you could catch it, drawing a soft, broken sound from your lips.

He smiled then, brushing his thumb against your cheek where a stray tear had slipped down. The touch was warm, careful, and the way he looked at you made your stomach flip. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “I want to see you..”

You felt his fingers pick up the pace again. Making you let out a soft shaky sob of pleasure. He loved seeing you like this, so overwhelmed just from two fingers. Moans and whimpers leaving your lips more frequently now. He knew you were close, he saw the way your hips slightly jolted as he curled his fingers. “You gonna come? Hm?” He hummed softly against your shoulder. “Y-yeah” you whimpered shakily and quietly. “come for me baby, can you do that?” He whispered sweetly against your soft skin.

His fingers pumping in and out of you fast, fingers curling, making it hit that one spot. That one spot that made you break. Your lips gaped open. Tears running down your face and eyes shut tightly. A loud soft moan leaving your lips that was like music to his ears. Having your high, he smiled amused. Fingers still pumping in and out of you as he helped you through your high. “There we go..” he said lowly.

Fingers slowly pulling out of you as he saw you relaxed and layed there breathlessly. Eyes all tired and lips swollen. His fingers covered in your sweet juices. Slipping them into his mouth as he sucked them clean. A quiet groan leaving him from the sweetness of it. Sitting up next to you as he rubbed your hair gently, his other hand going to softly wipe the stray tears off your cheeks. Your eyes looked up at him softly.

Maybe your boyfriends father could make you feel better then he ever could.

I hope u like this I suck at smut 💔

BY THE WAY if u guys request and think I didn’t see it, I DID 😭😭💔 I promise u I love every single one of this request but I’m saving them all and picking out which ones I wanna do first. So if I take forever to do your request I’m SORRY 💔💔💔 I promise u I will get all request done 😞

•°. *࿐𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧-𝐡𝐨 ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟏

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟑

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫- 𝐰.𝐢.𝐩

𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞- 𝐰.𝐢.𝐩

─────────౨ৎ──────────

𝐂𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠-𝐰𝐨𝐨ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

─────────౨ৎ──────────

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧-𝐡𝐨ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

─────────౨ৎ──────────

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐢𝐧-𝐬𝐮ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐬

hey, could you do a squid game min su fic where the reader is a bit of a loser as well (maybe she's plus sized or something) and is insecure and the two make a connection in being the only two people that support each other?

𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐬 ༘♡

min-su x slightly chubby f!reader

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | min-su and reader make a connection through strange odds. both are insecure and losers, and click. Being the only hope for one another.

❥— mentions of weight

The smell of sweat and desperation clung to the stale air of the dormitory, pressing down on everyone. she sat on the edge of her bunk, arms wrapped around her stomach, trying to make herself smaller. The green tracksuit fit too snugly in all the wrong places, a constant reminder of how out of place she felt, not just here, but always.

Her eyes flickered around the room, catching glimpses of people forming quiet alliances, whispering behind cupped hands. She wasn’t naive. She knew what this place was. Survival wasn’t just about the games, it was about who had your back when things got ugly.

And her ? She had no one.

Until she noticed him.

Min Su sat a few bunks away, hunched over with his knees drawn up to his chest, fingers anxiously picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. He wasn’t talking to anyone either. He must have felt her gaze because he looked up, eyes dark and uncertain, mirroring the same loneliness in her chest.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then, hesitantly, she offered him a small nod.

And, just as hesitantly, he nodded back.

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

She continued sitting on the bunk, her eyes darting between the faces around her. Before she felt the mattress slightly dip beside her. She glanced over, only to be met with a slightly shy face.

like a flicker of light in the chaos, a voice cut through the murmurs.

“Hey , are you alright?”

She froze, her heart skipping. It wasn’t just the voice, it was the kindness in it. She turned to find Min Su again, sitting a little too close, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion.

She swallowed hard. “I—I’m fine,” she muttered, but the way her hands shook didn’t justify her.

Min Su didn’t seem convinced. His brow furrowed as he looked her up and down, probably seeing her hesitation, the way she was still trembling even though she tried to hide it. He spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “It’s okay if you’re not. I don’t think anyone is really okay here. But if you need help… I can be here.” He said. He sounded almost hesitant, nervous maybe.

For a second, she just stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry. She was used to people ignoring her, or worse, avoiding her entirely. But here, in this hellhole of a game, he was offering something she never thought she’d get. a little bit of humanity.

“Thanks,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say.

He gave her a small, gentle smile. Before quickly looking away too.

And for the first time since she’d woken up in this nightmare, she almost believed him.

•°. *࿐𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧-𝐡𝐨 ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟏

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟑

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫- 𝐰.𝐢.𝐩

𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞- 𝐰.𝐢.𝐩

─────────౨ৎ──────────

𝐂𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠-𝐰𝐨𝐨ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

─────────౨ৎ──────────

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧-𝐡𝐨ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

could you do a jun ho (policeman squid game) fic: something like she's an officer as well and is good at her job but she's clumsy. like she can do a full on chase of a criminal and catch them, but she can't hold a cup coffee without dropping it.

and like jun ho has like a spidey sense for her and always just knows when she's gonna trip and just silently helps her.

(would to love them have an bubbly extrovert/calm introvert dynamic)

steady hands

hwang jun-ho x bubbly extrovert reader

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | reader is great at catching criminals but terrible at holding a coffee cup or anything in particular. Luckily, Jun-ho always seems to know when she’s about to slip up, silently stepping in to help her. Maybe it’s just good instincts—or maybe he just likes looking out for her.

no use of y/n !

she sprinted down the narrow alleyway, her breath steady despite the rapid pace. The suspect, some low-level thief who had decided to make a run for it instead of cooperating was fast, but not faster than her. Her boots pounded against the wet pavement as she closed the distance. The moment he tried to jump a chain-link fence, she lunged, grabbing the back of his jacket and yanking him down. They tumbled to the ground, but she was already twisting, pinning him down with a firm knee against his back.

“Bad ideaaa,” she muttered, putting the cuffs on him.

From the other end of the alley, Jun-ho ran down, his usual unreadable expression in place. “Fast as always,” he remarked.

She smiled, standing up. “Of course. What, did you think I’d let him get away?”

Jun-ho gave her a once-over, his gaze subtly flicking down to her feet. she blinked.

“What?”

Before she could process his reaction, her foot slipped on the same wet pavement she had just chased a criminal across. A yelp escaped her as she felt herself going down, but before she could hit the ground, a firm grip caught her wrist, steadying her.

She looked up to see Jun-ho sighing, his hold on her casual but practiced, like he’d been expecting it.

“You just arrested a guy, but standing still is what trips you up?” he asked dryly.

She groaned. “I hate you.”

“You say that, but this is the third time this week.”

She muttered something under her breath and dusted herself off as he let go, shaking his head before turning to haul their suspect to his feet. Jun-ho didn’t say anything else, but there was an amused glint in his eyes as they walked back toward the patrol car, one that told her he was keeping score.

And, knowing him, he always would.

-

Back at the station, she walked through the front doors, all bright energy and smiles as she greeted every single person she passed.

“Morning! Love the new tie!”

“Hey, Minji! Did your kid win his soccer game?”

“Ooh, Detective Park, I see you went for the new haircut! Bold choice!”

Jun-ho followed behind her, watching as she effortlessly spread sunshine through the grim station. It was a contrast to his own usual silence, but he’d grown used to her presence. It was like standing next to a small storm—unpredictable, clumsy, but somehow warm.

She swung by the break room to grab a cup of coffee, and the second Jun-ho saw her pick it up, he sighed.

“Careful—”

Too late.

The cup tilted in her grasp. He didn’t even think, just stepped forward, catching it right before the hot liquid could spill over her hands. With practiced ease, he steadied her grip and handed it back.

She let out an awkward laugh. “Wow, I am really on a roll today.”

Jun-ho raised an eyebrow. “Today?”

“Okay, okay, this week. Month. Year-whatever!” she huffed, taking a sip of her coffee like that would erase the evidence.

-

Later, when they were reviewing case files at her desk, she reached for a pen, only to accidentally knock over her entire stack of papers. scattering everywhere, and before she could even react, Jun-ho was already crouching down to gather them up.

“You must have a sixth sense for my disasters,” she mused, watching as he calmly handed the files back to her.

He gave her a look. “It’s called being prepared.”

She grinned. “Sure, Spidey-sense.”

He shook his head but didn’t deny it.

A few nights later, they were on patrol together when they stopped by a food stall for a quick break. She ordered two fish cakes, offering one to him despite knowing he’d say no. Jun-ho never ate much during shifts, but she liked offering anyway.

As expected, he shook his head, and she happily took a bite of hers, humming at the taste.

Then, just as they were about to head back to their car, her foot caught on a slightly uneven part of the sidewalk.

It happened so fast—one second she was standing, the next she was stumbling forward, fish cake in one hand, embarrassment in the other.

Jun-ho was there before she even had a chance to fall.

One hand caught her arm, the other braced her shoulder. He barely reacted, like stopping her from face-planting was the most normal thing in the world.

She blinked up at him.

“You good?” His voice was as calm as ever.

She let out a breathy laugh, standing up straight. “You’re gonna start charging me for this at some point, aren’t you?”

Jun-ho considered it for a moment. “Maybe.”

She nudged him. “Well, too bad, you’re stuck with me.”

He sighed, but there was a small, almost amused smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

-

It was supposed to be a simple stakeout.

A simple drug bust, nothing too flashy, a quick in-and-out operation. she had been sitting in the passenger seat of an unmarked car with Jun-ho, sipping on yet another cup of coffee -that he had silently repositioned in the cup holder to avoid potential disaster- She had been making small talk, trying to coax more than two word answers out of him, when everything went sideways. The suspect they were tailing suddenly bolted, sprinting down a dark alley. Instinct kicked in before orders could even be given, she was already throwing open the car door and chasing after him, her adrenaline kicking in.

Jun-ho was right behind her.

The chase was fast, her feet pounding against the pavement as she dodged stuff in the way. She caught up just as the suspect tried to climb over a fence. Without hesitation, she grabbed him, yanking him back- and then suddenly, pain.

The man lashed out blindly, a rusted metal pipe swinging toward her midsection. She barely had time to react before the pipe slammed into her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs.

Jun-ho saw it happen.

Before the suspect could raise the weapon again, Jun-ho was there, moving quickly. One swift hit sent the pipe clattering to the ground. The man barely had time to process what was happening before Jun-ho had him restrained, his jaw clenched, his movements tighter, sharper than usual. By the time backup arrived, the suspect was cuffed, and Jun-ho was already kneeling next to her.

“You okay?” His voice was low, steady. but his eyes scanned her with an intensity that made her stomach flip.

She wheezed out a laugh. “That… hurt. Ow.”

He frowned. That was not an answer.

His hands hovered near her side, hesitating. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine, really—”

He ignored her, gently pushing her jacket aside. Even through her shirt, she could feel the bruising forming along her ribs. His jaw tensed as he took in the damage.

“You’re not fine.”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, not great either, but hey, I caught him, right?”

Jun-ho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You always catch them,” he muttered. “But you never think about yourself.”

Her smile faltered slightly. Jun-ho was always calm, so steady it was almost infuriating, but there was something about the way his voice dipped just then, something quieter, heavier.

Was he… worried?

Before she could dwell on it, he sighed, shifting back to offer his hand. She took it, and he pulled her up effortlessly, one hand still hovering near her side in case she wobbled.

“You’re going back to the station,” he stated firmly.

She groaned. “Ugh, come on. Just a bruise.”

Jun-ho gave her a look. “You’re going.”

She pouted but knew better than to argue.

As they walked back to the car, she winced, pressing a hand to her ribs.

Jun-ho didn’t say anything, but the next thing she knew, his hand was lightly resting against her back, guiding her forward. It was barely there, just the softest pressure, but steady. Unwavering.

Just like him.

And maybe, just maybe, she liked that more than she cared to admit.

WHY AM I FLOPPING ❤️❤️💔💔💔

IM SORRY GUYS I KNOW💔💔I TOOK SO LONG TO DROP TJE THRID PART U GUYS PROBABLY FORGOT ABT IT BUT READ IT PLS🙍🏻‍♂️🔥🙏😔

part 1

part 2

part 3

•°. *࿐𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧-𝐡𝐨 ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟏

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟑

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫- 𝐰.𝐢.𝐩

𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞- 𝐰.𝐢.𝐩

─────────౨ৎ──────────

𝐂𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠-𝐰𝐨𝐨ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

burning desire 3

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑/ 𝟑 : after mingle they go back to their beds. About a day after that, the chaos broke out, the war starting. y/n stuck in the middle of it going with in-ho to find gi-hun and Jung-bae. But little did she know in-ho was behind it all.

꣑୧- lil warning but not for much. aggressive angry in-ho but getting gentler. crying, dacryphillia, making out, thigh riding, risk of getting caught, nsfw, mentions of blood, guns, and just mean in-ho. lmk if I missed anything ❣︎ oh and plus it’s a long ahh chapter

Reader sat in her bunk, her bread still untouched laying in her lap, the unions milk carton beside it. She stared down at it, still a little shooken up from the mingle game. Shooken up from young-ill. And he noticed it, he decided not to say much. Leave her as that, not wanting to bother her and decided to give her some space. Part of him felt a bit bad doing it in front of her, but another part of him mainly thought she was just pathetic. Cmon, he had to do it. What else could he have done?

She had to understand that. And she somewhat did, but it still was just a little crazy. Sitting in the bottom bunk a little away from the rest of the group, her food layed still wrapped up in front of her, not bothering to touch it. She didn’t really feel like it, but also didn’t have the appetite after seeing all those people dead and dying in front of her eyes a minute ago. It was around evening time now, maybe 8. Not too long before lights out. She was a bit scared, what if something happen tonight? But nothing ever did the other nights. She sat there for a couple more minutes fiddling with the end of her jacket sleeves.

Seeing the dried blood. Still feeling chills. She was zoned out for a moment before she heard his voice. Young-ill. Her eyes softened, almost as if she could still see the cold look in his eyes from earlier when he snapped that man’s neck. “Why aren’t you eating?” He asked lightly. Deciding it was time to talk to her now. He wanted her to talk to him. Not ignore him. He hated when people ignored him. He gently sat down on the matress next to her. “I’m not hungry..” she mumbled quietly. She knew she was. She just didn’t have the appetite to eat.

Looking down at the bread still fresh in the plastic package. His eyes watched her intently. “yes you are.” He said gently. She slowly glanced up at him. Not saying much. He huffed lightly. “Cmon you gotta eat something.” He said. His voice was softer, gentler. Trying to somewhat comfort her, manipulate her into being okay. Make her go back to normal and not see him for the cold and harsh person he was earlier. Even though that’s who he was, he was a bad person.

She couldn’t know that, not yet. Well she already somewhat did, but that wasn’t anything compared to who he really was. He watched as she looked back down. His eyes were still on her. “look at me.. please.” He said. His voice was quiet, light. Almost as a gentle command. He wanted her to listen to him, to stop being dramatic. But part of him loved seeing her like this. She sighed, looking back up at him. Her soft eyes looking into his. “Eat.. just a little yeah?” Taking the bread gently from her lap as he opened it. “It’s good.. try it.” He said gently. Handing it to her. She decided to just take it, so he would stop. But part of her didn’t want him to stop.

She wanted to keep talking to him.. “okay..” she said quietly. Gently taking a bite of the bread. He smiled lightly. His eyes still watching her, god how sweet she looked. How nice she looked doing anything. “see.. good hm?” He said. His voice still gentle, barely above a whisper. They were towards the corner. Some other empty beds around them, no one really paying attention to them. “yeah..” she said gently. Glancing up at him softly before back down at her bread. Gentle lullaby music beginning to lightly play on the speakers. “Players, lights out in 30 minutes.” The woman’s voice on the speaker spoke. She sighed quietly.

“Now tell me why you look so sad.. I hate seeing you like that.” He said gently. Fake act of pity in his deep voice. He was lying, he loved seeing her like this. So vulnerable and weak. All sad and pathetic. He couldn’t stand it. Knowing that it was all his fault making it even better.

She hesitated for a moment, playing with the edge of her bread wrapper. "I just... I've never seen someone die like that before," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes remained fixed on her lap, unable to meet his gaze.

"It's part of the game," he replied smoothly, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do to survive." His voice was honey-sweet, masking the darkness that lurked beneath. He watched as she visibly tensed at his touch, but didn't pull away.

"I know that," she said, finally looking up at him. "But it doesn't make it any easier to watch." Her eyes held a mix of fear and something else – a hint of curiosity, perhaps even attraction, that she couldn't quite suppress despite what she'd witnessed.

Young-ill leaned in closer, his presence both comforting and threatening at once. "yeah.. but it gets better eventually," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "We’ll all have to do it eventually." His fingers traced small circles on her soft arm, a gesture that seemed caring but held an underlying possessiveness that made her shiver. By doing it.. did he mean killing someone..?

She wanted to believe his gentle facade, wanted to trust in the softness of his voice and the warmth of his touch. But the memory of his cold eyes as he took that man's life kept flashing in her mind, a stark reminder of what he was capable of. Still, she found herself drawn to him, like a moth to a flame that would surely burn her.

"you okay now?" he whispered, his dark eyes locked onto hers. The words sent a chill down her spine – not entirely from fear. “mhm..” she hummed softly. Her eyes locked onto his now.. hypnotized by him again. He knew what he was doing, he smiled gently. The innocent fake smile. His hand moved to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear, thumb brushing softly against her skin.

She found herself leaning into his touch despite her better judgment. Deciding if she should even say it, but it was too late now. “How can you be so gentle now, after..." she trailed off, unable to finish the thought. The contrast between his tenderness and his capacity for violence was dizzying.

Young-ill's expression darkened slightly, though his touch remained soft. "Everything I do, I do for a reason," he said, voice low and gentle. "You understand that, don't you?" His eyes searched hers, seeking not just understanding but acceptance. Acceptance of who he was, of what he could do. Warming her up a bit, just for what was gonna happen tomorrow.

She swallowed hard, caught between wanting to pull away and wanting to move closer. "I understand," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she truly did. Or if she even wanted to. The bread lay forgotten in her lap as she sat there, trapped in the magnetic pull of his presence.

His lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. It was the kind of smile that made her wonder if she'd just given him exactly what he wanted – though what that was, she couldn't be sure.

The lights dimmed gradually until the room was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. As darkness settled in for lights out, she remained motionless, aware of Young-ill's presence beside her. His body radiated warmth in the small space between them, his steady breathing matching the rhythm of her quickening heartbeat. Their faces were mere inches apart, close enough that she could feel the gentle whisper of his breath against her skin. The tension built like electricity in the air until he could no longer resist the magnetic pull between them.

His lips found hers in the darkness, gentle at first. She released a shaky, quiet sigh that seemed to echo in the stillness, her body melting into the kiss as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As she responded to his touch, he carefully guided her back onto the mattress, making sure her head rested comfortably against the pillow. Her delicate hands found their way to him instinctively - one settling on his broad shoulder while the other pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt.

A low, quiet groan escaped him as he deepened the kiss, his movements becoming more insistent but still carefully controlled. They remained hidden in their corner of the room, shrouded in shadows and relative privacy. Though anxiety flickered at the edges of her consciousness about being discovered, Young-ill seemed to sense her unease. Drawing back slightly, he gazed down at her, his features softened by the dim blue circle light that cast everything in an otherworldly glow.

"Stop that... you're okay," he whispered, his voice impossibly gentle yet commanding, wanting her to forget everything except this moment, except him. His words washed over her like a spell, trying to ease away her concerns about discovery and draw her completely into his world.

He pressed his lips back onto hers, a quiet soft whimper escaping from between her parted lips at the gentle contact. He pulled back immediately, his dark eyes meeting hers with gentle warning. "shh," he shushed tenderly, reminding her of the need for discretion in their hidden corner. The last thing they needed was to draw unwanted attention. His lips found their way to the delicate curve of her neck, causing her eyes to flutter closed at the sensation. She fought to contain a sigh that threatened to escape as he traced featherlight kisses along her sensitive skin, deliberately careful not to mark her. At least not yet, he thought to himself.

Her fingers curled into his shoulders, applying gentle pressure that increased and decreased with each tender kiss. His hands moved with practiced care - one splayed across her chest while the other cradled the back of her head, fingers tangled in her soft hair. The intoxicating feel of her beneath his touch was overwhelming; he couldn't seem to get enough. A breathless sigh escaped him as he gradually guided her to sit up, following her movement to maintain their intimate connection.

She crawled toward him instinctively, closing what little distance remained between them as her lips sought his once more. His hands found her waist, fingers pressing into the soft fabric as he guided her onto his lap until she straddled him.

Her palms came to rest against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath them, while his hands explored the curve of her waist before trailing down to the small of her back. In one fluid motion, his fingers moved up to her jacket, carefully slipping it from her shoulders to reveal the white T-shirt beneath, her assigned number stark against the fabric. His eyes caught on the faint remnants of dried blood still visible on the material, a harsh reminder of their reality even in this tender moment.

But he pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the warmth of her body against his. His hands slid up her sides, fingers ghosting along the thin material of her shirt as he drew her closer. She shivered at his touch, her breath catching in her throat as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear.

"hm" he hummed against her skin. His hands continued their gentle exploration, one moving to cup the back of her neck while the other remained firmly at her waist. She melted into his touch, her head falling back slightly to give him better access.

The soft blue glow of the circle light cast shadows across their faces as they moved together in the darkness. His lips traced a path down her neck, each kiss more insistent than the last, though still carefully controlled. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Young-ill pulled back slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. There was something dangerous in that gaze, something that should have made her want to run. Instead, she found herself drawn closer, like a moth to a flame, knowing she might get burned but unable to resist.

Her eyes softly looked into his. His eyes were dark, filled with lust but affection. His hand reached to gently move her hair off her shoulder. “mm you’re so pretty.” He whispered quietly. Leaving no room for talking before pressing his lips back onto hers. Her cheeks were flushed, hands pressed against his chest before moving to his shoulders once more. Getting needier and needier by the second, and he could tell. He slightly shifted his thigh, lips pressing onto hers as his tongue slipped into her soft warm mouth, causing a quiet whimper to escape her lips.

His larger, rough, but gentle hands on her hips as he shifted them. Positioning her so her sweet spot pressed deliberately onto his thigh. Her eyes squeezing slightly. Lips parting from his for a second, her lips all swollen and dark pink from the intense kisses. Her eyes locked onto his nervously, but full of want just like him. His lips pressing back against her neck. “cmon now…” he mumbled quietly against her soft skin he couldn’t get enough of. Hands on her hips as he began to gently move her, a light gentle rocking movement against his leg.

His lips trailed up to her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "good girl.." he praised quietly, voice barely above a whisper. His hands guided her movements, keeping her steady as she rocked against him. She buried her face in his neck to muffle the soft sounds threatening to escape her lips, her breathing becoming more ragged with each movement.

Young-ill's grip tightened slightly on her hips, controlling her pace as she moved against him. Her fingers clutched his shoulders tighter, her body trembling slightly. He could feel her getting closer, her movements becoming more desperate. "that's it.." he whispered, one hand moving to tangle in her hair, gently pulling her head back so he could see her face.

Her eyes met his, glazed with desire, lips parted slightly as she tried to control her breathing. He pressed his lips to hers again, swallowing the quiet whimper that escaped her as she reached her peak. Her body shuddered against him as waves of pleasure washed over her, his hands holding her steady as she came down from her high.

As her breathing slowly returned to normal, Young-ill pressed gentle kisses along her jaw, up to her ear. "such a good girl for me," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. She melted against him, completely under his spell, exactly where he wanted her.

-

The next morning she awoke once again, the light music playing on the speakers welcoming a new day. Laying back in her own bed. She sat up, yawning softly, she slept well last night. Sitting in bed for a moment, looking down at her lap. Her cheeks turning a faint hue of pink as she smiled to herself, remembering last night with young-ill. Their group was already up sitting down and eating their breakbeats.

She made her way over to the group, her eyes immediately scanning for Young-ill. He was already there, casually eating his breakfast while chatting with others. Their eyes met briefly, and she caught the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips before he turned back to his conversation.

The food today was simple - not a big variety. She picked at it absently, her mind still clouded with memories from the night before. The way his hands had felt, his whispered words, the intensity in his dark eyes...

"Hey, you okay?" dae-ho asked beside her, snapping her out of her thoughts. "You're barely touching your food."

"Oh, yeah," she replied quickly, forcing herself to take a bite. "Just... didn't sleep well." The lie felt clumsy on her tongue, especially when she caught Young-ill's knowing glance.

-

Later that evening it was another round of voting. But this time it was tied between the X’s and O’s. Reader sighed in belief. As long it was tied, not the o’s winning again. She couldn’t wait to get out of this hell hole, she believed she would. Later on the dinner was gave out. they gave out some simple kimbap, the group ate. They all sat together. Reader was sitting next to Jung-bae at the end.

Across from her sitting was young-ill. Looking down at her food as she used the metal fork to pick a piece of kimbap up and eat it. “You know, young-ill” dae-ho began. His mouth stuff with food before swallowing it. “I thought you might vote in favor, like on day one.” He said. “I was so nervous i couldn’t watch” he said once more. This time young-Ill voted X to go home. But last time he voted yes. She still wondered why he did, but now he seemed nice. Teaming up with the X to go home.

Later that evening, the atmosphere was thick with tension as the group prepared for yet another round of voting. This time, however, the results were far from clear-cut; they found themselves in a deadlock, with the votes split evenly between the X’s and O’s. Reader let out a deep sigh, a mixture of frustration and resignation washing over her. At least the situation was relatively stable for now, and she was relieved that the O's weren't winning again—at least not yet.

The oppressive feeling of being trapped in this hellhole began to weigh heavily on her, but she clung to the hope that one day she would find a way to escape. As the evening wore on, the group was served dinner, a simple yet comforting meal of kimbap, reader found herself sitting next to Jung-bae, who had quietly observed the unfolding drama, while directly across from her was Young-ill, his expression low as he focused on his food.

She glanced down at her own plate, using a metal fork to pick up a piece of kimbap, its flavors a welcome distraction. Suddenly, Dae-ho broke the silence, his mouth half-full as he spoke, “You know, Young-ill,” he began, pausing to swallow his bite before continuing, “I thought you might vote in favor, just like you did on day one.” His voice was a mix of curiosity and disbelief, as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around Young-ill's shift in stance. “I was so nervous I couldn’t watch,” he added, his tone lightening a bit,

but reader could sense the underlying tension in his words. It struck her as peculiar that Young-ill, who had voted in favor of the O's last time, had now switched to casting his lot with the X’s, yearning for a way out. She couldn't help but wonder the reasons behind his change of heart, yet she also noticed a subtle shift in his demeanor; he seemed more calm now, as if teaming up with the X’s had softened his edges.

-

After the chaos between the X’s and O’s stopped, it was bathroom time. People heading to the bathroom while the others who didn’t have to stayed back in the room. Reader sat on one of the mattresses. Talking with 222. About how she wanted to get out of here. But not once did she mention anything about young-ill and what they did last night. She liked him.. a lot. Young-ill was sitting with gi-hun and the others.

A couple minutes passed before she heard the speaker come on. Everybody glancing in confusion. “The following players have been eliminated. Players 230, 268, 299, 331, and 401. End of list” reader gasped softly. All of those people dead.. now? It must’ve been the X’s and O’s fighting in the bathroom. But thank goodness young-ill didn’t go in there, or any of the others. But knowing young-ill, if he was in there he’d survive.

She sat there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. The reality of their situation hit her harder than ever - people were dying, and they were dying fast. Her eyes drifted to Young-ill across the room, watching as he spoke quietly with the others. Despite everything happening around them, she felt a strange sense of safety when he was near.

222 noticed her distraction and followed her gaze. "You okay?" she asked softly, genuine concern in her voice. Reader nodded quickly, forcing her attention back to their conversation. But her mind kept wandering to the bathroom, to the violence that must have unfolded there. Five more people gone, just like that.

The sound of footsteps drew everyone's attention as the survivors from the bathroom began filtering back into the room. Their faces were grim, some spattered with blood, others looking haunted by what they'd witnessed. Nobody spoke about what happened - they didn't need to. The empty spaces where five players should have been told the story clearly enough.

Young-ill's eyes met hers across the room, and she could see the tension in his jaw, the calculating look in his dark eyes as he assessed the situation. He gave her a subtle nod, a silent reassurance that seemed to say "stay close, stay safe." She returned the gesture, grateful for his presence, even from afar.

-

Chaos is what it was. What was happening was straight chaos and mayhem. Who in their right mind came up with the idea? Oh... it was Gi-hun. Their group had fought back the guards and stolen the guns. So now what? They were going to find the control room to find the Front Man. Reader had gone with them, staying with In-ho and the others while Gi-hun and Jung-bae went off to the control room. In-ho had insisted she stay back... but she persisted. He couldn't help but get slightly frustrated—she'd distract him from his plan.

But he couldn't let her get in the way, even if that meant she found out he was the Front Man. The sounds of the guns blaring made reader flinch, shaking as her breath grew heavy and shaky. Why did she do this? But she had to be tough. She knew how to somewhat use a gun, so she was helping out some, until the ammo ran out. The light clicking sound of the empty gun. She stared down at the gun, blood splattered on her jacket and shirt. The others must've been running out of ammo too, and Gi-hun and Jung-bae were taking too long at the control room.

"This isn't getting us anywhere! Let's follow them to the upper level!" the man yelled, gun in his hand. She was crouched behind the pink wall as all the guards were on the other side of the large room with staircases and rooms. In-ho glared intensely at the man before replying, "We might get surrounded if we move together without a plan."

Reader shakily huffed. She was out of ammo, and the last thing they could do was follow them to the control room while someone else went to fetch more ammo from the pockets of the dead guards. "Let's—let's just go! There's nothing else we can do," reader said, her voice yelling over the gunshots.

"No," he said, glancing at her before turning to shoot at the guards once again before quickly hiding behind the wall. "Let's wait until they find the control room," he said, his breathing shaky but concentrated. Suddenly gunshots grew closer, and one of their teammates was shot right in front of their eyes. She gasped. Two guards came around the corner shooting before quickly getting shot by 246 and 120. He saw reader crouched there vulnerably. No ammo. He huffed—why did she come along?

"Get over here," he said firmly. He needed to protect her, make sure she'd stay safe. She quickly crawled over to where he was, sitting beside him, her knees bunched up to her chest.

"Don't move," he said strictly, going back to shoot at the guards.

"Everyone! Check your magazines!" 120 said, everybody quickly checking their ammo.

“I’m down to half.” 246 said. “I’ve got less than half” “Same!” The other players yelled over the gunshots, “I’ve for two-thirds left!” Player 15 yelled. “I’m almost out!” Another said. “Mine is empty!” Dae-ho said shakily. His voice was filled with fear. Glad to know she wasn’t the onto one out.. but she was freaking out as much as dae-ho. Feeling somewhat safe next to young-il. “I’m almost out too!” Young-ill said. Her eyes glanced up at him nervously. Seeing him so concentrated, the dried blood on his clothes and some on his neck.

It gave her flashbacks from earlier mingle game, his eyes filled with coldness and despair. “Young-il, Dae-ho can you hear me!” Jung-baes voice ringing out on the walkie talkie. “Go ahead.” “I think we’re right below the control room, but we need backup and more ammo” “we’re running out of ammo too!” “There should be spare magazines in the soldiers pockets in our quarters. Go get them!” Gi-hun said frantically over the mic. “Got it.” In-ho said. Reader looked at him, her gaze with with anticipation and still fear. “Did you hear that? They need backup.” In-ho said to the others. “Three of us will go, and the rest of us stay.” He said. “Who wants to go with me?” “I’ll go!” “Me too” 2 of the players said. Reader glanced at young-ill. “M-me too” she said. Her voice was filled with emotion. She didn’t want to be left behind. She had no ammo, what was any good being here. “No you stay here.” He said firmly to her. His cold eyes looking down at her.

She shook her head frantically. “I’m going.” She said, she needed to. She needed to be with young-il. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew better than to try and reason with her so he agreed. “Fine.. let’s go.” He said firmly to her and the others. Quickly scurrying out the space and to the stairs.

-

They made their way cautiously down a dimly lit purple hallway, with Reader staying closely behind Young-il, her trembling hand resting gently against his back. Though there was no real risk of losing him in the narrow corridor, she found herself drawn to maintain that physical connection, seeking whatever small comfort it could provide in their dire situation. Her nerves were clearly visible in the slight tremor of her fingers and the way she startled at every echo of their footsteps, though Young-il appeared unfazed by her proximity. His mind seemed elsewhere, focused intently on whatever plan was forming behind those calculating eyes.

As they ascended the stairwell, the harsh glare of a security camera caught their attention from its perch in the corner. The rest of their group moved ahead, but Reader remained steadfast in her position behind Young-il, who paused briefly to study the camera before continuing their advance. There was something almost familiar in the way he navigated these corridors, Reader noticed, as if he'd walked them a hundred times before. She quickly dismissed the thought as paranoia born from stress.

Rounding the next corner, they encountered Gi-hun and Jung-bae positioned strategically against the wall. "Gi-hun! Did you find the control room?" Young-il called out in a hushed but urgent tone. "I think it's right up there but we can't go this way. I want you to find another way," Gi-hun responded, gesturing upward. Reader listened intently, unconsciously pressing closer to Young-il as she absorbed every detail of their exchange.

"I did a quick scan of the layout here. I'm sure there's a way to go around them. I want you guys to keep their focus on you. We'll hit them from behind," Young-il explained, his voice carrying the quiet authority of someone used to giving orders. "Okay... wait. Here take this. You're gonna need it," Gi-hun offered, extending extra ammunition. "Are you sure?" Young-il questioned. "Dae-ho will be back with more," came the confident reply.

While Gi-hun and Jung-bae created a diversion, engaging the guards with sustained fire from their position, Young-il seized the opportunity to lead their small group past the danger zone. Reader stayed right on his heels, her breathing coming in short, shallow gasps that she struggled to keep silent.

Sensing her distress, Young-il turned to her with an unexpected gentleness in his voice. "It's okay. You'll be okay," he murmured, his eyes meeting hers with an enigmatic mix of emotions - there was softness there, but also something darker, more intense, like barely contained hunger mingled with unwavering focus. She managed a small nod in response, continuing to follow his lead through the treacherous facility.

-

They had finally reached the other side of the hallway, their footsteps carefully measured as they ascended the steps in formation behind Young-il. With practiced precision, they positioned themselves against the two walls before continuing up the dimly lit corridor. Reader found herself positioned beside In-ho, her heart pounding in her chest. The absence of a weapon left her feeling particularly vulnerable, and she couldn't help but cast anxious glances at her companion standing tall beside her.

"Gi-hun, we found it . Start attacking and draw their attention, then we'll hit from behind," Young-il spoke into the walkie-talkie, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying unmistakable authority. "Okay got it!" came Gi-hun's determined reply through the static. Within moments, the hallway erupted with the deafening sound of gunfire as Gi-hun and Jung-bae engaged the guards, who remained oblivious to the threat lurking behind them.

Young-il gestured silently to the two team members who had accompanied them, directing them to advance and attack the guards from behind while he maintained his position. Reader observed his unusual hesitation, her brow furrowing with concern. "Why aren't you moving forward with them?" she whispered, searching his face for answers. But Young-il remained silent, his expression unreadable as he deliberately ignored her question, instead slowly ascending the stairs behind his teammates.

What happened next occurred with devastating swiftness - just as their teammates prepared to engage the guards, Young-il's weapon suddenly turned on them instead. The sound of his gunshots echoed through the space, and she couldn't suppress her horrified gasp, her hand flying to her mouth in shock and disbelief. "What is wrong with y-" she cried out, her voice breaking with raw emotion and terror. Her eyes began to sting with tears as the reality of what she'd witnessed sank in - he had murdered his own teammates in cold blood.

"Don't move." His command cut through the air like ice, his voice hard and unyielding, filled with a dangerous mixture of frustration and intense focus. He turned to face her, his weapon now trained directly on her trembling form at the bottom of the stairs. She flinched involuntarily, knowing she had no choice but to comply. Tears streamed down her face as she watched him methodically reload his weapon and fire additional shots into his fallen comrades, ensuring their deaths were certain. With chilling composure, he then used the walkie-talkie to fabricate a story of his own demise to Gi-hun.

The moment his back was turned, something in her snapped. She rushed up the stairs toward the fallen men, dropping to her knees beside them. Her hands shook violently as she tried to rouse them, though she knew it was futile. "I told you to stay there," he growled, his patience clearly wearing thin. But she couldn't stop herself, her grief overwhelming any sense of self-preservation. "How could you do this?" she sobbed, her voice trembling with betrayal and anguish. The trust she had carefully built with him lay shattered like glass at her feet.

"Step away from them." His voice had dropped to a dangerous low, his cold gaze boring into her as she continued to weep over the bodies. "No," she whispered, the word barely audible through her tears. His frustration manifested in a quiet huff. "Move away from them. Now." Each word was delivered with increasing menace, his tone brooking no argument.

She lifted her tear-stained face to meet his gaze, her eyes wide with fear and defiance. "You’re insufferable..." he muttered under his breath, and couldn’t help but chuckle. His eyes looking down at her as she cried and cried. God it was just so amazing to him. He loved seeing her like this, so vulnerable and alone. But at the same time he couldn’t stand it. So with a subtle nod of his head, he signaled to something - or someone - behind her. Before she could fully turn to look, darkness claimed her consciousness and the air was forcefully expelled from her lungs.

-

As consciousness slipped back in, clarity fought against the haze of confusion, snapping at her senses like the sharp edges of a memory she desperately wished to forget. She blinked into the dim light, slowly taking in her surroundings—an unfamiliar room that looked very modest. Black walls.. dim lighting and nice furniture. A soft blanket under her.. she was laying in a bed. Who’s bed? She was at these games.. not home. Until it all came rushing back to her. Getting knocked out, kneeling by a dead body, that young-ll killed.

Panic clawed at her throat as she sat up, the ache in her head shooting flashes of pain through her skull. Her hand instinctively reached for the bandage wrapped around her temple, remembering the betrayal that had knocked her into darkness.

And then she saw him.

A man Leaning against a wall, he wore all black clothing. And a black mask. Her eyes were filled with a hint of fear and confusion. Was this the frontman? The one gi-hun had told them about. He then slowly took the mask off. he looked both familiar and different. The man who once whispered sweet promises now bore the weight of quiet remorse on his features. His gaze met hers, an unspoken longing stretching between them, coated in memories she wasn't ready to relive. Her heart stopped. Young-il. Her young-il. Was behind all of this..

“You’re up.” he said, his voice thick with emotion, cutting through the silence like a knife.

She turned her head away, the churning of her heart conflicted. Love had flickered within her once, but now it was gone, in disbelief. “Why am I here?” she managed to ask, her voice steady despite the fear and sadness built up in her.

“Because I couldn’t let you go,” he replied, taking a step closer, the warmth of his presence both comforting and suffocating.

She shook her head, the very idea of his proximity igniting a spark of anger. “You don’t get to decide that for me.

He looked different. Not the same man who was saying sweet things to her and comforting her. His hair was still somewhat messy but also fixed more nicely now. And he was in different clothes. And a whole new person

His demeanor had shifted entirely - gone was the vulnerable soldier she'd known, replaced by someone who carried himself with an air of authority and control. The change was jarring, like looking at a photograph that had been altered just enough to feel wrong. His eyes, once filled with what she thought was warmth and protection, now held a calculated intensity that made her shiver. He looked different. Not the same man who was saying sweet things to her and comforting her. His hair was still somewhat messy but also fixed more nicely now. And he was in different clothes. And a whole new person

"You're afraid of me now," he stated matter-of-factly, taking another step closer. It wasn't a question. His movements were more deliberate now, almost predatory, lacking the hesitation she'd grown accustomed to during their time in the games.

"I trusted you," she whispered, her voice catching. "Everything... was it all just an act?"

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not everything," he replied, his voice softer than before, though still carrying that edge of authority. "My feelings for you... those were real. Are real. That's why you're here."

She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all - how could he speak of feelings while standing there in his carefully pressed clothes, looking every bit the mastermind behind their suffering? The contrast between the man she thought she knew and the one before her now was too stark to reconcile.

Her eyes began tearing up once more, beginning to cry again. And a soft groan left his lips. "Oh, don't cry," he cooed, but his tone held a note of dark satisfaction. He moved closer, reaching out to brush a tear from her cheek with his thumb. The cool material of his black glove on her cheek made her shudder. "Though I must admit, you look absolutely breathtaking when you cry."

She jerked away from his touch, which only seemed to amuse him more. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of desire and cruel entertainment.

"You can hate me all you want," he continued, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "But we both know you're not going anywhere. And honestly..." He tilted his head, studying her tear-stained face with fascination. "The more you cry, the more I want to keep you here forever."

His words sent a chill down her spine, but there was something in his gaze that told her he meant every word. He was enjoying this - her fear, her tears, her helplessness. It was all part of some twisted game he was playing, and she was trapped in it.

"Such pretty tears," he murmured, reaching for her face again. “Stop” she said shakily as she pulled away from him.

He chuckled darkly at her resistance, seeming to draw satisfaction from it. "You know," he mused, his voice taking on a contemplative tone, "I've been watching you since the beginning. The way you moved, the way you trusted so easily..." His eyes darkened with something predatory. "It was almost too perfect."

She felt her stomach turn at his words. "You're sick," she spat, though her voice trembled. "All those people... they died because of you."

"They died because they chose to play," he corrected smoothly, settling himself on the edge of the bed. The casual way he invaded her space made her press herself further against the headboard. "But you... you're different. Special."

"I'm not special," she protested, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm just another player you manipulated."

His laugh was soft but cruel. "oh is it now?" he purred, reaching out to trail a gloved finger along her jaw despite her attempt to flinch away. "You have no idea how special you are. The way you wear your heart on your sleeve, the way you care so deeply for others..." His grip suddenly tightened on her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "It's intoxicating."

"Let me go," she whispered, tears continuing to fall. "Please."

"Now why would I do that?" he asked, his thumb wiping away her tears with mock tenderness. "When I've worked so hard to have you all to myself?" His eyes gleamed with dark possession. "No, You're exactly where you belong now."

The finality in his voice made her blood run cold. She realized with growing horror that this wasn't just a temporary captivity - this was his endgame all along. And as his possessive gaze bore into her, she understood that her nightmare was only beginning.

Her heart raced as he stood up from the bed, towering over her with that same predatory smile. "Get some rest," he said softly, almost tenderly, but the command in his voice was unmistakable. "We have all the time in the world now." With that, he turned and walked towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

The sound of the lock clicking into place was deafening in the quiet room. She curled into herself, letting the tears fall freely now that she was alone. The reality of her situation crashed over her like a wave - she was trapped here, with a man who wore the face of someone she once trusted but harbored the soul of a monster. And the worst part? A small, traitorous part of her still remembered the gentle touches, the soft words, the moments when she thought she saw real humanity in his eyes. But now she understood - those moments were just another part of his calculated game, designed to draw her in, to make her trust him.

To make her his.

a/n- and with that it’s finished! FINALLY I know I know I’m sorry but maybe this will finally help me continue some other stories in my drafts. Tell me if you liked this, part 3 of this is lowk buns I’m so sorry I’m just so glad I got it done. But I have soccer and practices so that’s partly why too. SORRY I GOTCHU ILL DROP MORE TOMORROW (no I won’t)