The Salesman X You - Blog Posts

I MEED THIS BUT JUST OF IN HO LIKE A FULL ON SERIES AHHH ANYWAYSS LOVEE THISSS

JUST LIKE CANDY — SQUID GAMES MEN

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

HWANG IN-HO

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

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

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

THE SALESMAN (GONG YOO)

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

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

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

HWANG JUN-HO

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

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

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

Bro is majestic

Update post!

Hiya! This is an update post! I will occasionally pop in to tell you guys what I'm currently working on and what to look forward to in the future! :)

Current Project:

Sub!Salesman x Femdom!Reader (This was requested by an anonymous user and yes, I am working on it. So sorry it's taking long.)

Future Projects~⭐️

Sub!James Sunderland x Dom!Reader (This will be my first MLM fic ever. Basically, James is cockwarming you with his mouth and eventually sucks you off. Also he calls you daddy, so heads up on that!🌝👍)

Top!Graham Burns x G/N!Reader (Originally gonna be f!reader but I changed my mind. You guys go from wholesome texting to sexting to him fucking you over his desk)

Dani x F!Reader (First WLW smut ever and kinda self indulgent with her talking you through it and getting past internalized homophobia. Shit gets a little deep)

Pyramid Head x Reader x James (First threesome fic ever! Woo! Anyway, get spitroasted by James and his manifestation of guilt🤷🏻‍♀️)

Top!Mary Sunderland x F!Reader (A little WLW. Mary is healthy, and she broke things off with James. Now she wants to break you off! Strap-on activities🫣)

Sub!James x Femdom!Reader (Using a remote-controlled vibrator on him the whole trip in Silent Hill back when it was a nice town. A little public play and James whimpering like a bitch)

Daddy!Benatar x Reader (Okay... YFM smut will be happening)

18!Puff Puff x 18!Reader (Please note: Puff Puff is in his 20s in YFM, but he's 18 in this because you and him are fumbling around. Wholesome childhood friend type shit)

Gavin x G/N!Reader (He's late to work because he couldn't stop going down on you.)

PLEASE NOTE: You can still request! These are just projects that I wanna make in the future! Also, if I fulfill your request late as fuck, I'm sorry, school takes up my time and my ADHD hyperfixations make it hard for me to keep up. But I'll get to it, and when I do, I promise it'll be great! So many smut milestones to hit! Stay tuned!🫶🏻

Hey yall, so I was just pondering while plotting this Salesman smut from Squid Game and had a thought.... what would a threesome between these two be like? Like, Salesman is more teasing, more sadistic, and James is more serious, more gentle. Crossover right now! How would a threesome with James and the Salesman go?

Might fuck around and write something when I get the time to...

One part of me wants him to manhandle me, and the other part of me wants to ma'amhandle him. The duality of a woman.

the salesman is just so big I’m obsessed with him

towering at 6ft with those broad shoulders and big hands… he’s deceptively lean but every inch of his body is corded muscle and pure strength, enough to throw you around and really make you hurt with minimal effort… mmmmmmmm

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

Much thanks!🫶🏻

hi this is the same anon who sent that post earlier about being frustrated with the reader in a lot of salesman fics. i saw someone already replied in the comments asking for a male reader, but if you would be willing to do one for a femdom reader that would be amazing! i don’t really have a preference for kinks, whatever you feel like would happen is good!

as always i hope you have a good day!

- anon (:

Super sorry for just answering! I've been so busy with school. Ok! Yes! This is now a project in progress! Pegging the salesman!!!!

omg i binge read all your posts about the salesman and i was wondering if you would be willing to write a salesman fic where the reader isn’t completely helpless??? it’s so frustrating that so many fics make the reader kind of weak and helpless and just completely submissive. so, if you’re comfortable, maybe top!reader or something similar? i hope you’re having an amazing day!!

- anon (:

Oh please, we were both thinking the same thing! I mean, I went with a sub reader initially since it was the first thing I thought of, but also because I don't like how the x readers with the Salesman incorporates aspects of BDSM without the aftercare. As a result, kink becomes abuse with all of the degrading and hitting and no proper aftercare. I get it, his character is sadistic, but some proper BDSM rep is MUCH needed. BDSM isn't all hot kinky sex, there's the emotional aspect, aftercare, safety precautions, foreplay, etc. Hence my fic mentioning "safe signals/safewords" and that "aftercare" scene. Some realistic kink smut is much needed.

Ramble aside, I am planning something where the reader takes the Salesman down a peg. But please be specific, do you want a female reader, male reader, gender neutral reader, do you have any particular kinks of ideas in mind?

Reblogging for later, no, cuz tell me why I was also thinking of making an x reader where the reader takes the Salesman down a peg😭

A Game of Cat and Mouse - The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Follow Up Piece to: Freak of Nature On Display

Synopsis: Tired of being followed by the man in the grey suit, you decide the turn the tables

Warnings: Stalking, voyeurism, mentions of masturbation, the Salesman being kind of a sub

He was following you again. The man in the grey suit with the brown leather briefcase that probably cost more than you earned in a month. You clocked him about 100 yards back, his reflection visible in a shop window. You didn’t know how long you’d been playing this game of cat and mouse for. Any normal person would have been terrified at the prospect of being stalked, but there was something about the man who followed you that you found undeniably attractive. The day after he’d paid for your coffee, he was back out on the park bench, watching you from afar. You pretended not to notice him, going about your work as if he wasn’t there. Some days however, he would sit with you, making idle conversation as you watched the world pass by. You knew he followed you home, and one night you saw him sitting outside the restaurant across from you apartment. He noticed you too and raised his glass of soju in acknowledgement.

What was it that drew him to you? You weren’t anything special, weren’t anyone important. You were just you. You led a mundane life, filled with days that were all pretty much the same. Perhaps that was why you liked your new stalker; he injected the excitement that was so desperately missing from your world. You knew nothing about him, not even his name, but you were sure he knew lots about you.

You weren’t far from your apartment now, only two more minutes and you be safely behind your door. But you were tired of being safe; you wanted to see your grey suited man again, wanted to hear his voice, wanted to watch the wild way his almond eyes explored your body. You ducked round a corner, backtracking through an alleyway that ran down the side of your apartment. You could see your grey suited man from behind now, an angle you’d never seen before. He looked good from behind, with perfect posture, and an ass that looked great in his suit. He stopped, noticing you were no longer in front of him. you couldn’t see his face, couldn’t see the confused expression that flitted across his perfect features. Sneaking up behind him, you waited until you were inches away from him before whispering into his ear. “I guess this time I’m the cat, and you’re the mouse.”

He swivelled around to meet you, his eyes blazing with an expression you couldn’t read. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, Mr Grey Suit,” you smiled, watching his eyes widen as he took you in. No one had ever bested him before, but you’d managed to outsmart him today. “Clever girl,” he purred, “I enjoy our little game.” You’d left him speechless that day at the coffee house, and today was no exception. You were so much more than he ever could have dreamed of, so suited to his needs and desires that he wasn’t sure he could hold back much longer. He liked playing with your mind, but he longed to play with your body too. He wanted to feel you squirm against him, wanted to hear you moan for him as he figured out how far he could push you. “Will you be dining across the street tonight?” you asked, fiddling with the top button of your shirt. He shifted in his Prada loafers, a flash of hunger in his eyes. “Potentially,” he mused, “or perhaps I might find an alternative option to satisfy my tastes.” You both knew he was lying; he was far too hooked on you to get his kicks elsewhere. “Shame,” you pouted, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. “I was going to give you a little show. Maybe next time.” With that, you turned on your heel and left your grey-suited man standing dumbstruck in the street.

That night, he was in his usual spot outside the restaurant. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Your grey suited stalker was becoming predictable now. But, you’d promised him a show, and a show he would get. You nudged the curtain open just a touch, enough that he could see you from where he was sitting.

He watched you from across the street, saw you move the curtain and give him full view of your figure. You were wearing nothing but a tiny silk robe, the dusty mauve colour the perfect contrast against your skin. You unbelted the robe achingly slowly, and he could feel his erection pushing against the fabric of his pants. The robe fell to the floor, and you stood in a matching lingerie set, your fingers running up and down your body. You were teasing him, toying with him. He’d never been teased before, and he aching cock responded to you in a way he’d never felt before. he shifted in his seat, desperate to quell the rising sensation of unbearable lust. He watched you slip your bra strap down, watched as you slowly lowered the cup just enough to show him the faintest outline of your breast. He audibly groaned, downing his glass of soju to quieten his desire. If he knocked on the door, would you let him in? He’d never been at the mercy of someone before, always being the one who played with people. But you seemed to enjoy torturing him. As if reading his mind, you shook your head, your finger delicately tracing your nipple. No, you wouldn’t let him in tonight. But he’d need you soon, otherwise he might go insane.

That night he pleasured himself to the image of you in your apartment, the delicate lingerie so perfectly contouring your curves. He’d have you soon, there was no doubt about that. You were a tease, but he hadn’t fully shown you what he was capable of yet.

I just finished writing a fic of him and I'll do it again. Maybe a male!reader this time? Or hell, I'll even do a top!fem reader. Getting ideas rn...

This gun scene on squid game 2 honestly had me physically GASPING for air I need to see some fics about this IMMEDIATELY pls pls pls pls TAG ME YALL

"You Keep Your Eyes on Me"

Tag: @gongyoosgf and @cybrasigilism

Salesman x G/N!Reader

18+ Smut, MDNI

Summary: Just a typical Friday night, playing some games with your favorite Salesman...

⚠️Tags/Warnings: Jump straight into action (no buildup), Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, G/N masturbation, Gunplay, filming, bone gag/gagging, edging, denial, praise, dick tapping, dacryphillia, degradation, pet names (doll, baby, puppy), a hint of petplay??? genital slapping (kept vague for G/N), sex toys/hitachi wand, spreader bar mentioned, handcuffs, mutual masturbation (Salesman is jerking it to the sight of you), mutual orgasm, cumshot, aftercare, the Salesman may be catching feelings🤔

Your eyes lazily gaze into the mirror, that soft red light shining back at you as you bit down on the silicone bone even harder. The cool, metal rings bounded by the leather straps leaving its imprints on your cheek. You shake the bar that parted your ankles, keeping your thighs wide open for him.

He is looming over you, with that typical smug smile of his. He extends the pole with the wand attached to it, before pressing it against your swollen sex. You shake violently, feeling the vibrations build up to your release until---

"Ohhh... not so fast. Patience." The Salesman says, pulling the pole away and massaging your shoulder. You growl through the gag and glare at him through the mirror. He cocks an eyebrow and says, "Slow and steady wins the race. Calm down, doll." That smile creeping into his voice before he sighs and settles between your thighs.

You watch with dilated pupils, the chains linking the leather cuffs rattling when you try to reach out and touch him. He steps back and waves the tip of his handgun as he says softly, "Ah, ah, ahh! No touching."

You let out a whine, making him chuckle before stepping closer once again. The room echoes with the jingle of his belt, before he springs out. His tip glistened in the shade of the pink tint the room provided. His precum dripping onto your stomach. He strokes himself slowly, teasing you with every stiff pump his fist made before lining himself up.... only to lightly slap his cock against your tender skin. You moan, resulting in his laughter slipping out of his lips before he pulls back once again...

When he steps to his spot, behind your back, he places his hands on your shoulders and begins to lightly rub them. You tense up at the sudden feeling of his firm, calloused hands gliding against your hot skin, but he hushes you and whispers in your ear, "Go on, doll, touch yourself. Do it for me to watch. Put on a show that I can watch now.... and forever..."

You both shift your gaze to the recorder that was propped onto a stand, facing the mirror. The piercing red light blinked and blended in with the lights that dangled from the ceiling. You knew he was recording, you both agreed to do so. But still... to think he'd be watching this later...

You look up at him, feeling a little self-conscious. The reality of your fantasy was finally settling in... you are being filmed for his pleasure, all while he plans to watch you perform. It seems as though he caught on, and he massages your shoulders more while he speaks softly, "Baby, it's just us. No one will see the video except me, and yourself, if you want to watch. If you want it to stop, then you can shake your handcuffs 3 times, and I'll stop everything. The recording, the scene, everything. Alright? This is just a game. But you always have the option to pause or quit."

You nod, feeling relieved by his reassurance of the safe signal you two settled upon prior to the scene. You go to reach for the wand, when the Salesman pulls it away and says, "I have a different idea for this round. Something challenging, but fun nonetheless. How about, you use your fingers to touch yourself, and you use my gun to get off?"

His hands graze your shoulder, before trailing down your arms only to stop at your nipples. He rubs the buds in circular motions before saying, "And don't worry about a thing. It's completely unloaded." He then takes out the revolver and spins the barrels in front of your eyes.

"See?" He asks, and sure enough, the barrel was completely empty. He circulates his rough fingers around your areola and flicks your nipples, feeling them firm up as an airy moan slips out from his lips. He presses up against your shoulder, his cock becoming more apparent in your face. He tears a package from his pocket and rolls on the rubber onto the gun. He grins and says playfully, "A condom on a gun. That's definitely something new! Huh?"

He hands you his gun, and waits patiently, the smile still plastered on his face. You hold the weapon, feeling it's cold hard weight against the palm of your hand that juxtaposed the warm, soft, slippery rubber that had been applied onto it. Carefully, you guided the gun between your thighs, brushing against your skin while the handle caused your handcuffs to clatter and jingle against each other. You fumbles with it, steel slapping steel, yet your skin wasn't slapping against his.

The Salesman sees this, and smiles. His fist slowly stroking himself at the sight of you struggling to simply insert the gun. He chuckles, and moans in satisfaction at your issue. He looks at you through the reflective glass and says, "Are you struggling, doll? Can't even do something as simple as this?" He grabs the gun from you and continues, "It's okay, I was expecting that. Allow me to do all of the work. You just sit there and look pretty."

You watch with wide eyes as he drags the cool steel against your skin. Your thighs flinch, but his hand pins one down, forcing you open. The veins on his hand pulse when he grips your thigh, slathering his precum on your skin. The Salesman bends over to whisper in your ear, "Very good. You're doing so well for me. Now, keep those legs open." With that, he carefully slips the tip of the weapon into your sex. You feel the cold rubber contrasting your heat, making your hole clutch around the gun.

He sees this through the mirror how your hole pulses from the adrenaline of the revolver. You leak with arousal and the sight of it alone made him want to finish right then and there. But this man had a disturbing amount of patience. He harshly slaps his rough palm against your sensitive spot, which caused you to yelp like a puppy through the bone gag. He laughs at your position and says, "Poor puppy, so sensitive and all I did was put it in. Keep biting that bone. It's the only way you'll ever learn to be quiet."

His words sent a rush of pleasure down your body, and when you were close, his warm demeanor drops immediately. He slaps your parts again, harder this time. He clutches your jaw and hisses out, "Did I say you could cum? Hm? No. I didn't. If you cum without my permission, you will be disqualified. If you're disqualified.... then..."

You mutter against the silicone bone that stayed propped in your mouth. The Salesman chuckles and leans his ear against your lips, his disheveled black hair tickling your nose as he says, "Sorry? Come again? I can't quite hear you."

You mutter again, making him fight back the urge to laugh at you. He grabs the tight leather straps and unbuckles the gag. He pulls the black bone away, drawing a string of saliva from your mouth while the rest poured out onto you.

You stretch your mouth, trying to relieve yourself from the discomfort of being contorted for so long when the Salesman tsks in a mocking fashion, "Look at what you've done! You poked a hole in my property!" He shows you the pierced gag, before petting your head and saying, "But it's okay. You'll pay for damages, right? We can work out your debt."

You frantically nod, tears welling up in your eyes from his smacking. He presses his cheek against yours and licks the salty trail down your face before he whispers, "Good puppy. I know you'll take accountability for your actions. I did train you, after all. Now then, what was that you were trying to tell me? What will happen if you are disqualified?"

Your predicament alone could bring you to tears. Spread open for some Salesman you met off the street in front of a mirror, deprived from pleasure, and yet still craving more of his games.

You choke back a sob from the sensual humiliation so you could speak, "If... I'm disqualified, I can't cum for 2 months." The Salesman beams at your response and replies in a condescending tone, "Correct! Such a smart puppy! What if you complain about your punishment?"

You sniffle and continue, "If I complain.... you double the punishment....4 months." He nods and extends the pole with the hitachi wand. He presses the vibrator against the swollen skin between your thighs before pushing the tip of the gun deeper into you. He pats your head and rests the pile onto your shoulder. A few hums muffled between his lips and then he speaks, "As I said before, you will touch yourself in front of this mirror for me to watch. You will not cum until I say so. I will set a timer, you have 30 minutes. With every whine, beg, or cry, I will add an additional 10 minutes, and if you moan... an extra 20 minutes will be added. Good luck doll, you will certainly need it."

You look at yourself, legs parted and reflected by the glass. You were glistening with sweat and the lubricant from the condom ran down your thighs. You press the wand against yourself, feeling the vibrations build up to pure pleasure only for you to push your cuffed wrists under the top and lift up the pole, stopping yourself from going over the edge. The Salesman spectates, jerking off and staring at you with a lustful gaze. His precum dripping and running down your shoulder while you fucked yourself in front of the mirror. You looked at the camera, which had been recording all along.

You avert your eyes, humiliated and flustered by your predicament. It was then that the Salesman holds your chin and turns it to the mirror while he said, "You keep your eyes on me."

It felt likes ages... but it's only been 2 minutes. Just 28 minutes to go.

When the time passed, and you were down to 2 minutes, the Salesman slaps his cock against your cheek as he says, "Look at you, baby. You're a natural. How about this, since you've been so good for me, I'll countdown. I'll count down from 10 to 0. When I get to 0, you can cum. The punishments for failing this are the same as the ones we spoke of. Now... 10... 9..."

The Salesman counts down, massaging your inner thigh and encouraging you, "Good, good. You're holding out just the way I taught you. Deep breath, in and out...yes... good job. 8...7....6....5...."

You try to steady your breathing, waiting for his permission. You briefly contract against the gun, throbbing as the vibrator sends waves of pleasure to your core. Your breaths stutter, but the Salesman slaps your inner thigh and pinches your nipple while he scolds, "Quit it, bitch! Not until I say so!" He lets out a breath, pumping himself and whispering in your ear, "There we go... slow and steady. Breathe.... 4...3...2....1...hold it...." The salesman keeps you on edge for 10 extra seconds, a few extra seconds of extrauciating pleasure, and then finally he says...

"0... congratulations, you have reached the end. Go on... you have my permission."

The gratifying euphoria of his calm but firm confirmation brought the throbbing hot sensation of you coming undone right before his very eyes. Your body ripples with pleasure as the room's pink hue highlighted the way your face contorted and relaxed from the high the Salesman had blessed you with. You could hear him let out a deep moan. That was when you felt your chest become covered in his cum. Thick ropes of his climax painted your skin and glistened from the room's atmosphere. You were both heaving, trying to calm down from the aftershocks of what had happened.

The Salesman unlocks the handcuffs that bounded you to the pole and the spreader bar. He rubs your limbs and kisses you on the head. He whispers, "You did such an amazing job, puppy. You're so good to me. I don't know what I did to get someone as sweet as you. Now then, let's play a new game. A bath game, this time. You wash me, and I'll wash you. Whoever finishes washing their partner first...hm... they can get a treat. How about it?"

You nod, giving him a shy smile while he wiped your tears. He is well aware of the intensity of this scene. Especially with the gunplay, you never did that before. While he doesn't know what you two are exactly, he does know that he, much to his surprise, gets concerned for you. He doesn't know why, but he seems to enjoy looking out for you.

He stretches your body, rubbing away the aches that remained from your games. He then wraps his arm around your shoulder, and carefully takes you to the bathroom.

In a quiet room, the hot water splashes while your chest presses against his. Despite the grey area in the relationship, you had to admit, it is pretty intimate. Even he thought the same. He is so used to having an empty house, and this aftercare after every session was causing something to change within him...

Whatever the case may be, the Salesman holds you close and speaks softly,

"You know... I could get used to this..."

I am pleased to inform everyone that I am making an x reader of this man💆‍♀️

The Salesman

Just a little WIP of a smut I'm writing....

You watch with dilated pupils, the chains linking the leather cuffs rattling when you try to reach out and touch him. He steps back and waves the tip of his handgun as he says softly, "Ah, ah, ahh! No touching."

You let out a whine, making him chuckle before stepping closer once again. The room echoes with the jingle of his belt, before he springs out. His tip glistened in the shade of the pink tint the room provided. His precum dripping onto your stomach. He strokes himself slowly, teasing you with every stiff pump his fist made before lining himself up.... only to lightly slap his cock against your tender skin. You moan, resulting in his laughter slipping out of his lips before he pulls back once again...

When he steps to his spot, behind your back, he places his hands on your shoulders and begins to lightly rub them. You tense up at the sudden feeling of his firm, calloused hands gliding against your hot skin, but he hushes you and whispers in your ear, "Go on, doll, touch yourself. Do it for me to watch. Put on a show that I can watch now.... and forever..."

And.... I'll stop right there..... for now. Stay tuned yall✌🏻😉

I NEED THIS MAN SO FUCKING BADLY LIKE I WANT HIM TO FUCK ME SO BADLY LIKE YALL DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW BADLY I NEED HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM SO BADLY I'M TWEAKING TF OUT YALL HAVE NO IDEA HOW FERAL THIS SCENE MADE ME

EDIT: Why is my most liked post me being horny? Anyway, Salesman smut coming soon.

Yall, hear me out.... I might have a new fandom to write for....

Gong Yoo in Squid Game 2 (2024)

revolver | the salesman x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: what's supposed to be an early day off with your coworker, gong ji-cheol, turns into a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and russian roulette. as danger escalates, so does the magnetic pull between you, blurring the line between survival and sexual desire. *.✧ word count: 7.1k *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, reader smokes descriptive fight scenes, guns, sucking on guns, gi-hun dies instead of the salesman, the salesman is a warning on its own, reader is also craycray like the salesman, use of gong yoo's real name (do let me know if i should not), co-workers eye fucking, sexual innuendoes, tbf its hinted they fuck after the end. 18+ SCENES (no actual smut, just your typical moaning and sucking of the gun). *.✧ note: not my proudest work but i hope u like it! chances of part 2 is close to none btw, I, for the love of god, was stuck for an hour on that goddamn gun sucking scene, but who knows. masterlist | request here

You let out a heavy sigh as you sank onto one of the worn benches in Tapgol Park. The air was crisp, and the faint hum of city life surrounded you. You were currently waiting for Gong Ji-cheol, your one and only co-worker. He had asked you to meet him here, promising to wrap up his final task for the day before heading to his humble home together.

Your cheek throbbed as you pressed a small bag of ice against it, wincing at the sting. The last girl you played against had been a real piece of work. Not only did you lose much faster than usual, but her slap had left an unforgettable impression—literally. It was as if she had mistaken you for her runaway fiancé who had left her high and dry.

“Damn, she packed a punch,” you muttered under your breath, the memory making you scowl.

With another sigh, you brought a cigarette to your lips, holding it between your fingers as you lit it with practiced ease. The familiar burn in your lungs was oddly comforting. Crossing your legs, you leaned back against the bench’s headrest, letting the smoke escape in a slow exhale that curled into the night sky.

‘Where the hell is he?’ you thought irritably, your foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the pavement. Your eyes scanned the park, catching glimpses of couples strolling by and the occasional jogger.

Just as you were about to pull out your phone to check the time, you spotted a familiar figure entering the park. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Gong Ji-cheol strode in with an air of nonchalance, his hands laden with paper bags that seemed ready to burst at the seams.

You didn’t call out to him, opting instead to watch as he navigated the park with his usual flair. His expression was focused as he finished whatever errand had delayed him. You leaned back further, cigarette perched lazily between your fingers, content to let him finish his business before approaching him.

The two of you had met as guards in a sick, twisted game designed to bleed people dry for the amusement of the elite. Starting out as a lowly Worker, you two slowly climbed the ranks—first a Soldier, then finally a Manager. It wasn’t common for guards to bond, no. Trust was scarce in a world built on deception and survival, yet somehow, Ji-cheol had cracked through your armor. Maybe it was his sharp wit, or the way he could read you like an open book, but whatever it was, you found yourself gravitating toward him.

Just as you were about to take another drag of your cigarette, you noticed something unusual: two men standing awkwardly at the park’s edge, their attention locked onto Ji-cheol like predators stalking prey. They weren’t subtle, either, holding up newspapers as flimsy disguises that barely hid their faces.

You cocked a brow, biting back a chuckle at their obvious act. Amateurs. Still, their presence made your senses sharpen.

Your attention shifted back to Ji-cheol just in time to see him come to a halt in the park’s center. He looked at the bags in his hands, before dropping its contents to the ground with deliberate carelessness. One by one, he stomped on the bread he’d been carrying, flattening each loaf under polished shoes.

You’d seen him do it before—hell, you’d done it yourself—but something about the way he carried out the task tonight was different. There was a certain sharpness in his movements, an edge that hinted at more than just routine. Was he putting on a show for the two men who were watching him, or was this his way of venting the frustrations of the day? 

Either way, you couldn’t deny that he looked downright intoxicating as he stood there—his jaw clenched tight, shoulders tense with barely contained aggression, and his eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous. The raw power in his posture was magnetic, and you felt a jolt of lust rush through you at the sight.

You smirked, taking in the scene. Slowly, you stood, your movements deliberate as you reached for your suitcase. You tossed the cigarette to the ground, watching it fall with the finality of a decision made, before crushing it under your heel with a swift, confident stomp.

With a casual flick of your wrist, you brushed yourself off, smoothing your clothes. Then, you gave a small wave, your fingers barely lifting, but the motion was enough to catch Ji-cheol’s attention. His gaze snapped to yours instantly, the fire of the moment in his eyes briefly shifting to something more focused, more intent. He stomped on the pile of wasted bread one last time, before fixing himself and walking in your direction.

“Good day, [Name]. How are you? Have you finished your rounds?” he asked with a smile, his tone formal, almost mechanical.

You rolled your eyes and stepped closer, brushing back a stray lock of his hair and fixing it with a familiarity that always seemed to catch him off guard. “Drop the formalities, Ji-cheol. It’s me,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

His posture eased, the stiffness leaving his shoulders as he allowed himself to relax in your presence. “To answer your question, yeah, I’ve finished my rounds. It was a fast day for me.”

“Is that so?” he replied, his tone warmer now. But as his eyes landed on the swelling on your cheek, his smile faltered. Concern flickered across his face. “That mark wasn’t on your pretty little face before. Trouble today?”

You let out a soft laugh, dropping your hand from his hair. “This? It’s nothing. Just a parting gift from my last client—a pregnant girl scammed by her ex’s fake cryptocurrency. She was better than I expected, though. Won more rounds than me.”

He tilted his head, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “Did she really win more, or did you let her? I know you, [Name]. You find pleasure in pain—don’t even try denying it.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to an alluring murmur, your lips barely brushing the shell of his ear. “Oh, Ji-cheol, pain is only a pleasure when it’s coming from you. You should know that by now.”

His eyes darkened at your words, and a slow, rich chuckle escaped his lips. “Careful, [Name],” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his hand brushing against your lower back. “You keep teasing me like that, and I might just test your theory.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning into a sly smirk. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly, challenging him.

His lips quirked upward, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’d be surprised at what I can deliver,” he said, his voice dropping a notch.

Before the tension could spiral further, you stepped back abruptly, breaking the moment with a grin. Turning on your heel, you called over your shoulder with playful finality, “Come on. I’m done for the day, and I need a drink—or at least a cigarette that doesn’t taste like stress.”

Ji-cheol let out a chuckle before falling into step beside you, his presence a constant heat at your side. As you walked, a flicker of curiosity tugged at you, and you subtly turned your head to check for any sign of the two men from earlier. But before you could get a proper look, Ji-cheol’s hand reached out, firm but controlled, gently turning your face forward again.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low and calm, though there was an edge of authority beneath it. “I know what you saw—I saw them too. Just keep walking like a good girl. Let them think we’re clueless about their little act.”

His fingers lingered for a moment before he let go, stepping ahead of you to hail a cab. The gesture was quick, efficient, and almost as if he’d done this a hundred times before.

When the taxi rolled to a stop, Ji-cheol turned back to you with a grin that was equal parts mischief and charm. “After you,” he said, his tone teasing as he bowed dramatically. He even went so far as to open the door for you, gesturing with exaggerated politeness like a chauffeur entertaining a particularly important client.

You played along, rolling your eyes but stepping into character anyway. “Why thank you, good sir,” you said with a mock curtsey, gathering the hem of your imaginary skirt as you slipped into the cab.

Ji-cheol followed closely behind, settling in beside you as the driver glanced over his shoulder. “Where to?” he asked, his tone flat, his gaze flicking between the two of you in the rearview mirror.

Saying a quick thank-you to the cab driver, you followed Ji-cheol into a narrow alleyway. The quiet buzz of the city surrounded you, but your attention was on your co-worker’s back as he strode ahead.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Wanna play a quick game? Whoever guesses why those clowns are following us treats the other to dinner.”

Ji-cheol cast a glance over his shoulder, one brow arched in confusion.

“What? It’s a good pastime, no?” you added, shrugging. “Humor me a bit!”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he turned a corner. You followed close behind, your grin fading as the sound of hurried footsteps behind you grew louder.

“Hey, you two! Stop!”

“Stop right there!”

Ji-cheol didn’t respond, instead quickening his pace. But you could hear it in his voice when he muttered, “Idiots.”

The chase ended when Ji-cheol led you into a dead-end alley. He stopped abruptly, spinning around with a calmness that felt almost unsettling, while you turned to face your pursuers. They were close now—two men, one in a dark blue shirt and the other in red, both with the kind of looks that screamed trouble.

“Well, well,” you said, tossing your briefcase from one hand to the other. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some company. Lucky us.”

Ji-cheol didn’t say a word. He simply adjusted his grip on his own briefcase, his eyes narrowing in calculation.

The men didn’t waste time, rushing toward you with the reckless aggression of people who thought they had the upper hand. Big mistake.

You locked your focus on the man in the dark blue shirt, narrowing your eyes as you sidestepped his first swing with practiced precision. The moment his fist whizzed past you, you didn’t waste a second. Your briefcase swung through the air, connecting with his ribs with a satisfying thud. He grunted in pain, stumbling back, and you let out a small, mocking laugh.

"Hey, handsome," you teased, your voice dripping with playful mockery. "You should really think twice before picking a fight with us. I’m a sucker for a challenge. But..." You grinned wickedly, dodging another wild punch as you leaned back. "...I’ve got a thing for aggressive men, you know? My type."

The man’s face twisted in frustration and fury. His lips curled, and he spat, “Shut up, you bitch!”

You grinned even wider. "Ooh, getting personal, huh?" you teased, barely dodging another wide swing. “You should take me to bed and that’s where I’ll show you how much of a bitch I can be…”

Your dirty quip was abruptly interrupted when the man unexpectedly grabbed your arm, twisting it painfully. You winced as a sharp jolt of pain shot through your body, forcing you to drop your grip on the briefcase. The metallic clatter of it hitting the ground echoed in your ears.

"Hey! That’s expensive, dumbass!" you snapped, frustration flaring. You wrenched your arm free, trying to shake him off, but his grip was firm.

Before you could fully react, the man kicked your briefcase, sending it sliding towards Ji-cheol, who was tangled in his own fight with the man in red. The sound of metal scraping across the concrete grated on your nerves, a surge of irritation washing over you. That briefcase was yours—nothing was going to ruin it, not even this asshole.

You didn't hesitate. In a flash, your foot shot out, landing a perfect kick right into his shin. He yelped in pain, releasing your arm as he staggered backward. You wasted no time. With a burst of energy, you shoved him hard into the wall behind him. His back collided with a pile of scrap materials with a satisfying thud, the sound reverberating through your body.

You stood tall, brushing off your clothes with an air of nonchalance. As you bent down to retrieve your briefcase, your attention shifted for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of metal—a glint of something sharp catching the light. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized what it was.

The man in the red shirt had drawn a knife. Worse, he was heading straight for Ji-cheol, the blade aimed directly at his back.

“Ji—” you started, your voice cutting through the tension, but your warning was abruptly cut off as something hard slammed into the side of your head.

The world tilted violently. A burst of blinding pain exploded through your skull, and you staggered, your vision blurring. You brought a hand to your temple, trying to steady yourself, but your legs felt weak. Through your dazed vision, you saw him—a cruel grin on his face, the bloodied stone still gripped in his hand.

Before you could do anything, he struck again, the stone connecting with your skull with a sickening crunch. Pain blossomed across your face, and your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crumpling to the ground. Darkness rapidly encroached upon your vision, and the last thing you registered was the faint, mocking sound of his laughter as everything went black.

Ji-cheol’s eyes snapped to you the moment your body hit the pavement, the sickening thud reverberating in the air. His heart hammered in his chest as his gaze locked onto the sight of you: crumpled on the ground, limp, with blood trickling from a wound on your head. His breath caught in his throat. The man in blue, still standing over you, clutching the stone with a sick grin on his face, and the man in red, knife gleaming, were the last things he needed to process before his instincts took over.

Without thinking, his body moved with a kind of ferocity that stunned even him. His muscles tensed, adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him feel like a machine, unstoppable and unrelenting.

In an instant, he spun around, his hand flying out to disarm the red-shirted man. The knife wrenched from the man’s hand with brutal efficiency, and he followed up with a lightning-fast blow to his temple. The man collapsed instantly, crumpling like a ragdoll, out cold before he even hit the ground.

After dealing with him, Ji-cheol's gaze shifted to the man in dark blue standing with the bloody stone in his hand, looking as if he were ready to take another swing at you.

And that was the last thing he would allow.

He closed the distance in two strides, his fist launching toward the man’s jaw, a punch so hard that the stone slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground uselessly. Without hesitation, His fists continued their brutal onslaught. He delivered blow after calculated blow, his knuckles connecting with the man’s ribs, and face, each hit precise and unforgiving. The man in dark blue crumpled, gasping for breath, barely able to comprehend what had happened to him before another punch landed, and he slumped unconscious to the ground.

Once he was sure that the two were passed out, Ji-cheol immediately dropped to his knees beside you, the panic rising in his chest. Seeing you like this, the blood marring your face—it felt like a punch to his gut. His stomach churned, nausea rising with each passing second as guilt seethed through him like poison.

He reached out with trembling hands, carefully wiping the blood from your face, his fingers lingering on your features, brushing along your jaw and hairline. The blood made it worse—it made everything worse.

His thoughts crashed into him like waves. He should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve known this was a bad idea, that taking you into this mess had been a mistake. He should’ve canceled the hangout, he should’ve protected you better. But here you were—hurt, unconscious, vulnerable—and it was his fault. Every pained breath you took, every soft exhale he could hear, was a reminder of how badly he had failed you.

“Damn it, [Name],” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with guilt and frustration. His hands moved to gently tilt your head, checking for signs of serious injury. You were breathing, thank God. But the blood on your face made him feel like he was drowning.

His fingers hovered near your lips, then slid down your neck, checking for a pulse. Steady. A little too fast, but steady. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

As he sat there beside you, his body still trembling with adrenaline, something cold and hard settled in the pit of his stomach. The scene around him—the violence, the bloodshed—it was all becoming a blur. There was only one thing that mattered now, and that was you.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, just kneeling beside you, watching for any signs of life, his mind racing. All he could think about was how much he had to make this right. He couldn’t lose you—not like this. Not because of his own damn mistakes.

“It’s been a long time, Mr. Seong Gi-hun.”

Ji-cheol’s voice carried a calmness that felt unnervingly detached, but his words were deliberate, each syllable measured. He stood with an air of nonchalance, a drink dangling loosely in his hand, as if the weight of the situation didn’t faze him in the slightest.

Gi-hun’s sharp gaze fixed on him, his face a mixture of anger and suspicion. Ji-cheol stepped aside slightly, revealing the passed-out figure slumped in one of the chairs behind him. Gi-hun’s eyes immediately darted to them, worry flashing across his features as he took in the bandaged state of their face.

The sight unsettled him. Like a caring father, he instinctively wanted to rush forward, to check if they were alright, to ensure they were still breathing. But he stopped himself, forcing his feet to remain planted as he redirected his focus to the man standing in front of him.

“I hope you don’t mind another visitor,” Ji-cheol added with a faint smirk, watching Gi-hun’s reaction with mild amusement. “Anyways, you should’ve gotten on that plane.” 

Gi-hun’s hands curled into fists as he turned back toward the towel he’d been using to dry his hair, his movements slow and deliberate. “I changed my mind when I saw you,” he said, voice low and simmering with anger.

With an approving nod, Ji-cheol tossed his now-empty can into the trash with a casual flick of his wrist. It clanged loudly, the sound echoing in the tense silence. He gestured toward a map pinned to the wall, annotated with markings and notes, pointing at it with his revolver as if he were holding a pointer in a lecture.

“It looks like you’ve been trying hard to find me,” He remarked, his tone laced with mock praise, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the map.

“I wanted to thank you.”

The words made Ji-cheol stop mid-motion, his head snapping toward Gi-hun. He blinked, genuinely taken aback, before narrowing his eyes. “Thank me?” he repeated, the disbelief dripping from his voice.

Gi-hun stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. His movements were calm, but there was an undercurrent of malice in every step. Ji-cheol noticed it immediately—the tension in the way Gi-hun carried himself, the suppressed fury barely held in check.

“For inviting me to the game,” Gi-hun said, his voice tight and edged with bitterness. He settled into one of the empty chairs, sitting across from Ji-cheol. The anger burning in his eyes completely contradicted the words spilling from his mouth. “I won. I made it out with a fortune. The decent thing to do would be to thank you for it.” He dragged out the words, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Ji-cheol chuckled softly, a hollow, humorless sound. He leaned back against the table, swirling the liquid in his glass before looking at Gi-hun with feigned delight. “I, no— we—are just messengers who deliver invitations,” he replied smoothly, as if dismissing the very weight of the accusation.

Gi-hun’s jaw clenched as he turned his gaze back to the unconscious figure. The sight of them, bandaged and vulnerable, only seemed to stoke the fire in his chest. He whipped his head back to Ji-cheol, his voice firm and unwavering. “Who had you deliver those invitations? Let me meet him. I have something to say.”

Ji-cheol’s face didn’t change, his expression neutral. “Give me the message,” he said casually, his tone as smooth as silk, “and I’ll pass it along.”

Gi-hun didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as his voice grew sharper. “It’s not something I can discuss with an underling like you.”

For the first time, Ji-cheol’s expression shifted—just slightly. An eyebrow arched, and a flicker of amusement danced across his face as he tilted his head.

Gi-hun pressed on, his voice growing colder. “You prey on people who are hanging by a thread, conning them at subway stations with your pathetic games. Someone like you wouldn’t understand what I’m trying to say.”

The words struck a nerve. Ji-cheol’s smile turned razor-sharp, a glint of something darker flashing in his eyes. He straightened up, stepping closer to Gi-hun with calculated precision. “Mr. Seong,” he began, his voice low, the edges laced with venom. “How do you think I got to where I am now?”

“I don’t care how you became their dog,” Gi-hun spat back, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. His fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with anger. “Bring me your master. Now.”

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Ji-cheol’s grip tightened slightly, his knuckles whitening as he stared down at the man in front of him. The tension crackled between them like a live wire, each word loaded with unspoken challenges.

But he didn’t break. Instead, he calmed himself down, his lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Mr. Seong,” he said coolly, his tone almost taunting. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Gi-hun’s glare didn’t waver. The air between them was thick with unspoken threats, the weight of their animosity pressing down like a storm waiting to break.

You didn’t know what had happened. One moment, you were grappling with the two men who had been tailing you and Ji-cheol, your pulse pounding in your ears as you threw every ounce of strength into your movements. The world had been chaotic, filled with sharp grunts, the scrape of shoes on concrete, and Ji-cheol’s distant voice cutting through the noise. Then, just as suddenly as the fight had started, everything had gone dark.

Now, consciousness crept back slowly, each sensation arriving in fragments. Your head throbbed, a deep ache that pulsed in time with your uneven breathing. Your body felt heavy, as though weighed down by something unseen, and your surroundings were a muddle of indistinct sounds and shadows. Somewhere nearby, a voice pierced through the haze—clear, calm, and chillingly familiar.

“Let’s play a game,” You hear Ji-cheol say, his voice unnervingly casual. The words broke through the thick, suffocating silence, pulling you from the disorientation. Your senses sharpened, snapping into focus as you locked onto the sound of his voice. Slowly, other details began to bleed into your awareness, each one clearer than the last. A faint melody lingered in the air, haunting, delicate, a melody that sent a shiver down your spine. The tune grew clearer with every passing second, and then it hit you—Time to Say Goodbye by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman. One of your favorites. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen this in the movies,” He continued, his voice floating through the tension of the room. There was no urgency in his words, no thrill of danger—only a casual amusement. It was as if he were describing a mere game, a joke, instead of a life-or-death scenario. “It’s called Russian Roulette.”

The unmistakable click of the revolver’s cylinder spinning sliced through the thick air, sharp and metallic. It was the kind of sound that clawed at your insides. The revolver clicked again, a sound that seemed louder, more pronounced in the silence of the room. Ji-cheol’s voice returned, light and nonchalant. “Usually, you load one bullet, spin the cylinder, and…”

You dared to open your eyes just a crack, curious on what was happening. What you didn’t expect was your gaze being met with the barrel of the revolver, inches away from your face. A rush of anger surged through you, sharp and electric. The nerve of this bastard. 

Across the room, Gi-hun stirred. You could hear him, his breath ragged and loud. He moved forward, instinctively, as though to intervene, to stop Ji-cheol, but his feet faltered. He paused, his whole body tight with tension. His eyes locked onto the weapon, his posture rigid. 

“Hey—” Gi-hun’s voice cracked, faltering under the pressure. “Don’t do this—”

Ji-cheol silenced him with a smoothness that only made the threat more chilling. His voice slipped through the air like silk, but it carried an edge that cut deep. “...And pull the trigger.”

The sound of the revolver’s cylinder clicking into place reverberated around the room. Ji-cheol’s finger tightened on the trigger, and for a split second, the world seemed to freeze. 

Your eyes remained steady, focused, determined. Your pulse quickened, but you forced it into submission, grounding yourself in the stillness of the moment.

Click.

The sound was deafening in its emptiness, an echo that reverberated in your skull, louder than any bullet could ever be. The revolver hadn’t discharged. Ji-cheol lowered the revolver with a smirk, his gaze flicking between you and Gi-hun. His movements were unhurried, his demeanor calm, as though this had been nothing more than an amusing game. 

“And before the next round,” Ji-cheol said smoothly, the revolver spinning in his hand with a sharp flick of his wrist, “you spin it to reset the odds back to one in six.”

The metallic click of the cylinder spinning reverberated through the air, the sound sharp against the eerie backdrop of soft music. It was a calculated move, each spin designed to remind everyone in the room of what was at stake. Ji-cheol’s grin stretched wider as he leaned back, as if savoring the power he held.

Gi-hun’s face was carefully neutral, but his body betrayed him. His jaw was clenched so tightly that you thought his teeth might crack, and his fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against the edge of the table. He exuded frustration and unease, barely restrained beneath his calm facade.

“But,” Ji-cheol continued, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glinting with malice, “I like to make the game a little more interesting.” His tone was playful, almost conversational, but the words carried a sinister edge. “Because you’re special, Mr. Seong.”

“Cut to the chase,” Gi-hun snapped, his voice hard and brimming with irritation. He was done playing along, his patience stretched to its limit.

The salesman chuckled, low and mocking, clearly reveling in the tension that crackled in the room. He thrived on it, his grin widening as though Gi-hun’s defiance only added to his amusement. “Fine,” he said, the word drawn out, almost lazy. “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. What do you say?”

For a moment, silence stretched taut, the weight of Ji-cheol’s words pressing down like a physical force. Gi-hun hesitated, you could see the gears turning in his head, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The hesitation was brief, but it felt eternal. After a while gave a sharp nod. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, his voice tight, his resolve brittle but intact.

“Wonderful.” Ji-cheol’s tone was dripping with delight as he placed the revolver in the center of the table. The polished metal gleamed under the dim light, catching your eye like a predator’s snarl. With another flick of his wrist, he sent the revolver spinning.

It slowed, the barrel’s alignment seemingly random until it stopped. The revolver’s menacing end pointed directly at Gi-hun.

Gi-hun’s hand moved toward the gun with a reluctant slowness, as if even touching it might curse him. His fingers trembled when they wrapped around the handle, and he lifted it with a carefulness usually reserved for handling fragile, dangerous things.

The room felt smaller as he raised the revolver to his temple, the weight of the weapon mirrored by the crushing silence that followed. His breaths came quick and shallow, each inhale louder than the last as he steadied his hand. The barrel pressed into his skin, a cold kiss of steel. He hesitated, his knuckles white as his grip tightened.

Just pull it, get it over with. You could almost hear the mantra running through his mind, though the beads of sweat rolling down his temple betrayed the fear he tried to mask.

Finally, with a sharp intake of breath, He squeezed the trigger.

Click.

The sound was deafening in the stillness, a hollow, empty note that echoed in your chest. Gi-hun released a shaky exhale, his body sagging slightly as relief flooded through him. For a brief moment, the gun felt lighter as he carefully set it back on the table, as though handling a venomous snake.

Ji-cheol didn’t wait. The second Gi-hun’s hand left the revolver, he snatched it up, his grin unwavering. He pressed the barrel to his temple with none of the reluctance Gi-hun had shown, but there was something in his movements—subtle, fleeting—that contradicts with his confidence. His hand trembled just slightly as he adjusted the weapon, his knuckles tightening.

He took a long, measured breath, his cocky grin faltering for a brief moment as a flicker of uncertainty passed over his features. Then, with an almost feral determination, he pulled the trigger.

Click.

The sound hung in the air like a thunderclap, Ji-cheol’s shoulders visibly relaxing as his grin returned, sharp and triumphant. He laughed softly, the sound devoid of any real humor, before setting the revolver back in the center of the table. His gaze flicked to Gi-hun, and his eyes were practically alight with sadistic glee.

Gi-hun’s expression tightened, it was his turn again. As his hand started inching toward the revolver, Ji-cheol raised a hand suddenly, halting him mid-motion.

“Wait,” He said, his voice lilting with a mockery that sent a chill down your spine. His gaze shifted—predatory and deliberate—landing squarely on you.

“[Name], would you like to join us?”

Ah. Ever the gentleman.

A low groan escaped your lips as you finally stopped your act, breaking the stillness with a deliberate slowness. Your head throbbed as you shifted upright, every movement calculated, every second drawn out. Gi-hun’s gaze landed on you with a mixture of disbelief and shock, his mouth parting as though to ask how long you’d been awake.

You met his eyes with a faint, sardonic smile, dipping your head in acknowledgment. “How thoughtful of you, Ji-cheol…” you murmured, your voice light but edged with mockery.

You didn’t wait for anyone to respond. Your hand reached for the revolver on the table with a startling calmness, fingers curling around its weighty grip. The tension in the room thickened, every breath measured and shallow as you lifted the weapon.

The barrel’s cold steel kissed your temple, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. Your heart raced, the adrenaline flooding your veins almost intoxicating. Was it courage or recklessness driving you? You couldn’t tell, and you didn’t care. All that mattered was the here and now—the sharp, electric rush that drowned out everything else.

Your finger tightened on the trigger.

Click.

The empty sound was deafening, a hollow echo that filled the room. Your breath slipped out, slow and steady, though you weren’t sure if it was relief or something far darker that made your chest feel so tight.

Lowering the gun slightly, you glanced at Ji-cheol. The edges of your lips quirked upward, your expression sharp, your voice cutting through the silence with quiet venom. “... Allow me to return the favor,” you said.

Before anyone could stop you, your finger pulled the trigger once more.

Click.

The second dry sound rang louder than the first, and you felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the room. Gi-hun’s voice erupted in the stillness, a harsh, disbelieving shout. “Are you insane?!”

His words crashed into you, but they were distant, unimportant. Your focus stayed locked on Ji-cheol, and the smirk plastered across his face. It had widened—twisted with something primal, something that mirrored his love for chaos.

But as you shifted the gun in your hand, as the barrel turned from yourself to your lovely coworker, the room seemed to shift. Ji-cheol’s composure faltered, his smirk flickering like a flame about to die. The odds had changed, and now they were against him.

For the first time, his confidence wavered.

“Come on, Ji-cheol,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock affection. The words rolled off your tongue with an ease that felt unnatural, but the thrill of the moment made it all too satisfying. “Don’t tell me you’re scared now?”

For the first time, the salesman hesitated. His usual cocky demeanor faltered, the confident smirk slipping away as doubt crept into his eyes. Was this how it ended for him? Was he about to face the cold reality that he had pushed things too far?

His gaze fixed on you, wide and searching. You could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, but there was no escape. Your words had hit him where it hurt. The balance of power had shifted, and he could feel it. It was a strange feeling, one he hadn’t experienced with you before.

“What’s the matter?” You pressed, your voice now almost playful, but laced with venom. You could see the shock in his eyes, the disbelief that you—someone he thought he knew—had turned the tables in such an intimate, dangerous way.

He stared at you, mouth agape, unable to form words. His breath quickened, chest rising and falling, as if trying to figure out how to respond. Slowly, you stood up, each motion deliberate, your legs aching from the stillness. But the tension, the palpable charge between you two, made your body feel alive.

In all honesty, you were annoyed. Your day has already been a mess, from the last heated match to the delay in the promised hangout to the injury that will definitely cause weeks to heal from. You just wanted peace—just a moment to collect yourself. But instead, here you were, playing this twisted game because of your annoying coworker. 

You moved closer to him, your presence towering over him in a way that felt almost suffocating. With a push of your hand, his back hit the cold wall with a thud. The barrel of the gun remained unwavering, still aimed to his face, as you maneuvered yourself closer, your body brushing against his with precision.

One leg was planted firmly on the ground while the other was pressed between his legs, the proximity undeniable, intense, and erotic. You could feel the heat of his body beneath your fingertips, the tension radiating from both of you. Your breath was shallow now, your senses heightened in ways that made you almost dizzy. You leaned closer to him, your mouth dangerously near his, your lips only inches apart. Your breath mingled, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

Then, using the barrel of the gun, you tilted his head back slightly, forcing his mouth open just enough for you to slip the cold steel inside. Below you, Ji-cheol's body started to shake, and you felt it. The tremor in his form wasn’t just from fear. There was something else there—something deeper, primal, as if the situation was pushing both of you to the edge of something neither of you could fully comprehend.

The power was in your hands now.

A part of you reveled in it—how easy it was to rattle him, to strip away the confident exterior. But that other part of you, the part that longed for release from the mess of emotions you were drowning in, just wanted it to be over.

You pulled the trigger, the sharp sound of the click ringing in your ears, and for a moment, everything went still.

Click.

It was a dud.

The tension broke, but only for a moment. Your gaze immediately snapped towards Gi-hun. The final bullet was in play, and you could feel the man's eyes burning into the back of your neck. His hands trembled violently, his whole body shaking with anticipation, fear, and death.

Without removing yourself from Ji-cheol, you extended your arm out, offering the revolver to Gi-hun, expecting him to take it and end it all. To live up to the end of his deal. However, any possibility of that happening changed when his wide-eyed stare locked with yours, and you saw the raw terror in them—something you hadn’t expected from him. He wasn’t just afraid of the situation, but of you.

“What's wrong, Mr. Seong?” you asked, keeping your voice calm, though there was a sharpened edge to it now. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Gi-hun opened his mouth to speak but faltered. His lips parted, then pressed together tightly, as if wrestling with the storm of emotions raging inside him. You could feel his hesitation thickening the air between you both, a heavy tension that pushed you closer to the brink. Finally, he stood, his anger spilling over, his voice rising. 

“You’re insane!” he snapped. “If you hadn’t pulled the trigger twice— if we followed the damn order, you would be the last one to shoot. You’re the one who’s supposed to die!”

The words hit you like a slap. It was true after all. But his fury, his concern—it didn’t matter. You were the one who risked it, and you were the one who will be rewarded. The game had already ended, and there was no turning back now. His words, even if they were meant to stop you, only served to push you further, deepening the anger seeping in your chest.

“And you think that’s my fault?” you said, voice cold as ice, your gaze never wavering from his. The words stung, but you didn't flinch. “You think I give a damn about that?”

Without warning, you aimed the revolver at him and fired. The final click rang out, breaking the heavy silence with cold, brutal finality.

The room held its breath. Gi-hun’s body jerked once, his wide eyes still locked onto yours in disbelief as the realization hit him. His legs gave way, and he collapsed, blood beginning to pool beneath him. There was no more struggle, no more fight. Just the soft, final exhale of his breath, leaving the world in silence.

Below you, the voice of your coworker pierced the thick air, a low murmur in your ear. “Well done, [Name].”

You turned to him. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something darker, more dangerous—something like admiration, but tinged with something possessive.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, like a tangible pressure. The heat between your bodies simmered, an undeniable force that threatened to pull you closer. You didn’t need to say anything, because at that moment, everything was clear between you two.

“Really?” you said, your voice lowered in a husky sultry tone, as if you were challenging him. Your fingers tightened around the revolver, the weight of it no longer heavy, but oddly comforting.

Without a word, Ji-cheol moved with swift precision. One moment, you were standing tall, the next, his hands were beside your head, pinning you against the wall with a force that made your breath catch in your throat. 

“Don’t think for a second I’m done with you, [Name],” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, but there was something else in it now—a layer of hunger, an edge that felt almost possessive.

Slowly—as if to test him—you raised the revolver to your lips, your eyes never leaving his. Ji-cheol watched with intensity as you seductively sucked on the gun's barrel. His eyes trailed down, watching as saliva began dripping on your hand as you swirl your tongue around the barrel with such intensity that he wished you were doing it to him instead.

Watching his throat constrict as he swallowed deeply and feeling his bulge harden on your thigh. You pulled the gun out your mouth with a satisfying pop before throwing it to the ground. Without wasting any time, Ji-cheol immediately grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. And instead of hurt, his touch sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. 

He placed his knee up against your crotch—the action earning a low, hungry moan from you—before using his free hand to pull your body closer to him, his hard bulge colliding with your thigh. Ji-cheol released a low, and drawn-out moan before leaning in closer, his breath, which was just a hair away from your lips, was weak and warm—full of yearning and lust.

“You’re playing with fire, and I can’t promise you won’t get burned,” he murmured, the words dripping with an unsettling mix of desire and threat.

The heat in his voice made your pulse quicken in excitement. Your body responded to the proximity, to the rawness of the moment. Every inch of you was alive, and Ji-cheol, for all his calm control, couldn’t hide the dark hunger in his gaze. You could see it, feel it, as though it were an invisible thread pulling you together.

For a fleeting moment, it was almost as if the rest of the world had disappeared. It was just you, Ji-cheol, and the dangerous, magnetic pull between you both. With his lips hovered just inches from yours, you knew this was the moment that would change everything between you two.