playdat

[playdat]

The Salesman × Reader

Part6_________________________________________________________________________________

The ride to the restaurant was quiet—too quiet.

She sat in the passenger seat, her legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like she wasn’t sitting right next to the man she had been ignoring for a whole month.

He glanced at her, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "You’re really gonna stay mad the whole night?"

She didn’t even look up. "I don’t know. That depends."

"On what?"

She finally turned to him, her expression unreadable. "On how well you make it up to me."

His lips twitched. "So I’m on thin ice?"

She went back to her phone. "Very thin."

He chuckled under his breath. Fair.

By the time they arrived, he had already made up his mind. If she wanted to be spoiled tonight, then so be it.

The restaurant was one of the best in town, expensive and dimly lit, the kind of place where people whispered their conversations and waiters moved like shadows.

She pulled off her coat, revealing the black dress underneath, and he had to force himself to look away before he started staring too much.

She noticed.

"Eyes up here," she teased.

He smirked, pulling out her chair. "Can’t help it."

She sat down, smoothing her dress. "You should try harder."

The waiter arrived, and she ordered whatever she wanted without hesitation, not even glancing at the prices. Good. That’s what he wanted.

"You’re not even gonna hold back, huh?" he asked once the waiter left.

She picked up her glass of water, smirking. "You owe me."

He leaned in slightly. "And how much do I owe you, exactly?"

She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Hmm… A lot."

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "Alright. Fine. Tonight’s about you."

"As it should be," she said, taking a sip.

And just like that, the tension between them started to loosen.

The food came, and it was perfect.

She took one bite and sighed dramatically. "Oh my God. This is better than sex."

He raised an eyebrow. "That good?"

She nodded, taking another bite. "I might just leave you for this meal."

He chuckled. "Harsh."

She gave him a playful look. "Maybe if you didn’t make me mad, I’d say something nicer."

He sighed, setting his fork down. "You’re really not letting that go, huh?"

She leaned on one hand, staring at him. "What do you think?"

He exhaled through his nose. "I think I messed up."

"Uh-huh."

"And I think… I’m gonna spend the rest of the night making sure you forget all about it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?"

He smirked, taking a sip of his drink. "You’ll see."

By the time dessert arrived, she was laughing.

Real, genuine laughter—the kind that made her shoulders shake, that made her eyes crinkle at the edges.

And he felt something warm settle in his chest.

She wasn’t over it completely. She was still mad.

But at least, for now, she was his again.

__________________________________________________________________________________

[playdat]

The Salesman × blind wife

The Mysterious Winning Streak

"are you cheating?"

__________________________________________________________________________________

They were sitting on the living room floor, a deck of cards between them.

"Again," he said, shuffling.

She had won every single round.

She tilted her head. "Are you sure? You might cry this time."

His eyes narrowed. "We’ll see about that."

He dealt the cards, watching her closely this time. But sure enough—she won.

Again.

He exhaled sharply. "Okay, what the hell?"

She smiled sweetly. "Hmm?"

"You can't see, so how—"

Then, realization dawned.

She giggled. "Oops. Did I forget to mention? I can feel the texture of the cards."

His jaw dropped. "You cheated?"

She grinned. "I prefer ‘used my skills.’"

He groaned, running a hand down his face. "Unbelievable."

She reached over, patting his hand. "It’s okay, darling. You’re still my favorite loser."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her onto his lap. "Oh, I will get revenge for this."

Her laughter only made his smirk grow wider.

__________________________________________________________________________________

[playdat]

The Salesman × blind wife (a child)

The second she walked into the room, the baby reached out for her, little hands grabbing at the air desperately.

She smiled, lifting them into her arms. "Oh my everything…" she murmured, kissing their forehead.

Meanwhile, he stood off to the side, arms crossed. "You see them every hour of the day, I just got home, and yet—" He pointed at their child clinging to her. "This."

She chuckled. "They're just a mama's baby."

"Clearly." He sighed. "Unbelievable."

She smirked. "Jealous?"

"Of a baby? Absolutely."

[playdat]

A salesman obsessed with his wife, pleasee 🙏🙏

the Salesman × wife reader

the salesman obsessed with his wife

He didn’t know exactly when it started.

Maybe it was that first morning you walked past him wearing nothing but his button-down and one sock, yawning as you searched for your hair tie.

Maybe it was when you laughed—not politely, not prettily, but loudly, snorting, nose-wrinkling—at some stupid joke he didn’t even think was funny. And he caught himself smiling.

Or maybe it was the night you got sick, hair matted to your face, cheeks pale, too weak to sit up—and still apologized for not making dinner.

He told you that you were ridiculous. Then sat beside your bed the entire night, counting your breaths.

------------------------------------------------------

Now?

Now it had gotten worse.

He couldn't not look for you.

Every room he entered, his eyes would scan automatically—seeking out your shape, your scent, the whisper of your footsteps on the floorboards.

When you weren’t home, he checked the time constantly. Checked his phone. Lit cigarettes he didn’t even smoke. Punched numbers into his card deck and never played a single hand.

He watched you without realizing it.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were annoyed.

How you talked to plants like they were old friends.

The way you licked the spoon before putting it in the sink, even when he told you not to.

The tiny scar on your knee you never explained.

The books you never finished.

The way your breath hitched when he kissed the back of your neck—just once—without warning.

He memorized all of it.

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One night, you came home late. Unannounced. Just an hour past your usual time.

You weren’t wearing makeup. You looked tired. A little windswept.

“Where were you?” he asked, too quickly.

You blinked. “Dinner with my sister. I told you yesterday, remember?”

He didn’t remember.

But instead of admitting that, he just gave a short nod and stepped aside.

Then he watched you walk past him. Counted each step.

His jaw ticked as he saw a faint crease in your blouse. Had someone touched you? Brushed against your coat? Had you smiled at a waiter? Had they smiled back?

He hated the thoughts.

But he couldn’t stop them.

------------------------------------------------------

Later, when you were asleep, curled on your side with your mouth slightly open, your breathing slow—he sat beside you. Just watching.

His fingers hovered over your temple. Over your cheek.

He didn’t touch.

He didn’t want to wake you.

But he needed to see you.

So still. So unaware.

You’d never understand the way you consumed him.

How much space you took in his head, in his chest.

He was a man built on games, probability, power.

But you were the one variable he couldn’t control.

And that terrified him.

And he loved it.

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[playdat]

the Salesman × wife reader

Request: Hi! Could you write about yandere salesman × wife reader? Maybe another man will try to court her?

"I Thought You Were Taken?"

The café was warm and noisy, filled with laughter and the clatter of porcelain cups. You sat alone at a table near the window, waiting for your husband to pick you up. Your white cane rested against the chair, and you sipped from a cup of chamomile tea, calm and quiet in your own world.

That was when a voice slid into the air beside you.

"Excuse me… mind if I sit?"

You turned your head slightly, surprised. "I’m waiting for someone."

"I can see that," the man said with a chuckle. "But I also noticed you were alone. Thought I’d keep you company. You’re… incredibly beautiful, by the way."

Your grip on the cup tightened slightly. “I’m married.”

“That so? I don’t see a ring.”

Your lips twitched—not quite a smile. “Doesn’t mean he’s not real.”

The man leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “If he’s real, maybe he shouldn’t leave someone like you alone in public.”

You stiffened. Your instincts buzzed. Something was wrong.

And then—

A hand clapped down hard on the stranger’s shoulder.

The man flinched, turning—only to be met with a calm, eerie smile.

"She said she was married," the Salesman said, tone polite, but cold as ice. "Didn’t she?"

“Who the hell are y—”

“Her husband.”

His grip on the man’s shoulder tightened. Not enough to bruise—but enough to warn. Enough to promise.

“I’ll give you three seconds to walk away before I make sure you never flirt again,” he said quietly.

The man, now pale, stood and backed away. “Jeez, man, calm down. I didn’t know—”

He didn’t see the fist that nearly flew at his face. The Salesman’s knuckles tensed, arm half-lifted—only to freeze mid-swing.

He looked at you. Your hand clutched his sleeve. He breathed out slowly.

Not here. Not while you were watching.

"Come," he whispered to you, taking your arm. "Let’s go home."

You felt the heat rolling off him like smoke from a hidden fire, and said nothing as you walked in silence.

Later that night, after you had fallen asleep in your bed, warm and unaware… he left.

The man who had approached you at the café was never seen again.

No police reports. No noise. Just silence.

And the next morning, the Salesman made you tea as usual, smiling softly as he tucked a blanket around your shoulders.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said softly.

“I know. But he did.”

His fingers slid gently under your chin, tilting your face toward him.

“I’ll burn the world if anyone tries to take you from me.”

You didn’t flinch.

But deep down, you wondered:

What scared you more?

That he meant it…

Or that some part of you liked it?

------------------------------------------------------

[playdat]

Hi! Could you write about yandere salesman × wife reader? Maybe another man will try to court her?

Hell yes—I will start writing it now

(thank you for your request 🫶🏻)

[playdat]

Missed u Shayla!! Excited for whatever u put out next darling x.

Thank you dear! I also missed you💗!

I will try my best to write something about "the salesman" from time to time 🙏🏻✨

[playdat]

The salesman × blind wife

will he ever cheat?

Will he ever cheat?

The thought of cheating didn’t even cross his mind.

He was possessive and deeply protective of her, and the very idea of being with someone else felt like a betrayal that he couldn’t comprehend. She was his, in every sense.

He might have a temper, and his jealous streak could be extreme, but when it came down to it, there was no one else who could replace her.

He’d never openly admit it, but he was afraid of losing her—of someone else taking her away. And that fear would drive him to hold on tighter, to guard her with everything he had.

Cheating was a line he would never cross, even if his darker tendencies sometimes led him into dangerous territory. She was the one person he couldn’t afford to lose.

[playdat]

Come back the kids miss u (😔) 💖

Gurll😭😭😭😭

I miss all of you too my dear, but right now I have too much shit to deal with😭😭😭

i think i will start posing after a month 😔

Thank you so much for your message it really meant a lot to me 😭💗💗💗💗

[playdat]

The salesman × reader (taking care of their child)

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in the middle of making out your child start crying

Their child interrupted their moment

You were tangled together, breaths uneven, lips swollen from kissing. His hands roamed over your body, your fingers tugging at his hair.

Then—

"WAAAAAHHH!"

You both froze.

"No way," he muttered, panting. "Not now."

You pulled back instantly, pushing against his chest. "The baby—"

"They can wait a few minutes," he tried, but you were already sitting up, fixing your clothes.

"They're crying. What if they're hungry?" you hurried out of bed, rushing to the other room.

He groaned, flopping onto the mattress. "Cockblocked by my own kid."

From the other room, you called back, "Welcome to parenthood, handsome."

[playdat]

I was thinking of starting to write about anime characters. Like maybe characters from "demon slayer" and i wanted to know if that a good idea or i should just keep writing about "the salesman"

[playdat]

the Salesman × Blind wife

Warning: dirty talk

_________________________________________

It was a quiet afternoon in the coffee shop. The hum of the espresso machine, the soft clinking of cups, and the faint chatter in the background created a peaceful atmosphere. She sat at a small corner table, laughing with her friend, unaware of the man who had just entered.

She was in a good mood today—excited, giddy even.

And the reason?

Him.

Her heart fluttered at the mere thought of him.

—the man who had been occupying her mind for weeks. She could feel it whenever he was nearby, his presence magnetic, even if she couldn’t see him. His voice had a deep, soothing quality that made her heart race every time they spoke. She was drawn to him, in a way she couldn’t explain, and her mind wandering into fantasies she knew she shouldn’t entertain.

Her friend, noticing the faraway look in her eyes, leaned in with a teasing smile. "You’re so obvious. You know that, right?"

She scoffed, trying to mask her blush. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do." Her friend raised an eyebrow. "Come on, spill. What's going on with you today?"

Her cheeks flushed, and she leaned in, whispering as if sharing a secret. "it's about him"

"Him?" her friend asked, raising an eyebrow, curiosity written all over her face.

"the man i told you about, the one i have a crush on him?"

Her friend glanced at her, a knowing look in her eyes. "Oh, that one" she said. "You are absolutely obsessed with this man."

"You don't understand," she murmured to her friend, the words slipping from her lips before she even realized it. "I think about him all the time. The way he talks, the way he breathes, I know I can't see him, but damn it, I know he's breathtaking."

Her friend shot her an amused, knowing look. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"

But she wasn’t done yet.

"You don't get it," she continued, her voice dropping low as she leaned in, the excitement in her chest bubbling over. "The way I would kiss him until he can’t breathe, ride him until sunset…the only thing leaving his lips would be my name. I’d make him mine, every single part of him."

Her friend’s eyes widened, clearly stunned by her boldness. "Whoa, okay, you’re not holding back today."

But her friend wasn’t the only one who heard.

There he was.

Right behind her, sitting at a table just a few feet away. He had entered the coffee shop, unaware of the conversation happening behind him, tired after a long day of work, looking for some peace. But the moment he sat down, the words reached him. He froze for a second, his eyes narrowing with surprise.

He wasn’t just any man. He was the man she had been pining for. The one who didn’t know she had a secret crush on him.

He leaned back in his chair, listening. And what she didn’t know was that he was equally as captivated by her. They hadn’t spoken much before, but he had always admired her from a distance—her voice, her laugh, the way she carried herself.

She was blind, yes, but her confidence, her energy, made her even more captivating in his eyes.

His lips curved into a small, amused smile as he took in the boldness of her words.

Meanwhile, her friend desperately tried to signal her, nudging her under the table, but she didn’t notice. She was lost in her own thoughts, still caught up in the daydream of what could be.

Her friend, panicking, tried nudging her foot under the table. "Uhm— listen, I really think you should—"

"And the things I would do to him?" she continued, completely ignoring her friend’s distress. "God, I’d ruin him. If I ever get my hands on him, he’s done for."

A deep chuckle rumbled behind her.

She froze.

Her spine straightened, her fingers tightening around her cup.

She knew that sound.

She had memorized that sound.

She froze, eyes wide with realization. There, just a few inches away, sat him—the man she had been gushing over. He had just sat down at the table right behind hers. His expression was unreadable, though there was a small, almost amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He was listening—had been listening the entire time.

She went pale. Her entire body went rigid, and her mind raced for words. "Oh my God," she muttered under her breath, unable to hide her shock and embarrassment.

Her friend, who was trying to stifle her own giggles, nudged her gently. "I... I tried to warn you..."

She didn’t know what to do. Should she apologize? Should she pretend she didn’t say anything at all? Her brain was too frazzled to think straight.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze never leaving her as he spoke, his voice smooth and steady. "Well, I must admit, you paint quite the picture."

Her friend looked between them, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, this is awkward in the best way possible," she said, unable to stop herself from laughing.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt like she might combust on the spot. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out.

"Well," he said, breaking the silence, his tone playful but full of a certain raw, magnetic charm. "I’d say it was meant exactly for me to hear."

Her heart was still pounding, her cheeks on fire. "I didn’t mean for you to—"

"Oh, I’m not complaining," he interrupted with a grin, his voice dripping with teasing warmth. "In fact, I’d say I’m flattered to be the subject of your imagination."

It was then that she realized—he had been listening, not just because of her words, but because he had a quiet admiration for her, too. He had always found her attractive. He had always wanted her, but like her, had never known how to admit it.

__________________________________________________________________________________

@dyingswanpavlova 🎀

[playdat]

Gong yoo × Toxic Relationship

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 {This version of him from "the trunk" in this version he had a sad backstory—you can find it [here] _ of course i added some things, so he grow up so needy and wanting physical touch,and he end up in a toxic relationship.}

Warning : none

He Needed a Hug

He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers gripping the fabric of his jeans. He could feel it—the ache in his chest, the need crawling under his skin. It wasn’t just loneliness; it was something deeper, something raw. He needed to be held. To feel warmth, to know that someone was there, that she was there. But how could he ask?

He never knew how. The words always felt like a weight in his throat, something too heavy to let out. If he asked outright, would she mock him? Dismiss him? He didn’t want to risk it.

So he did what he always did.

He took his car keys and drove into the city, his mind blank except for one thought: Make her happy, and she’ll hug you. That’s how it worked, right? If he gave her something, if he made her smile, then maybe—just maybe—he’d get what he needed in return.

At the jewelry store, he barely looked at the price tags. He found a necklace, something she’d like, something she’d want. He bought it without hesitation, the weight of the bag feeling heavier than it should in his hands.

When he got home, he found her sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. His heart pounded as he approached her, holding out the small, elegant box.

“For you,” he said, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

She looked up, surprised. “Oh? What’s this for?”

“No reason,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

She opened the box, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the necklace. A grin spread across her face as she pulled it out. “You always spoil me,” she teased, before looping her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

His entire body relaxed. His breathing slowed.

Finally.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair, letting himself sink into her warmth. He felt like a child again, desperate for comfort, for safety. He didn’t care if she only hugged him because he bought her something. He didn’t care if she saw right through him.

For just a moment, he had what he needed.

[playdat]

The salesman × reader (taking care of their child)

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : She went out to do shopping and left their child with him, and after seconds he started to freak out.

Warning : none ofc

The door had barely shut behind her when he looked down at the small, innocent baby in his arms. The baby blinked up at him, completely unaware of the absolute panic rising in his chest.

"Alright," he muttered, adjusting his grip. "This... this is fine. We got this."

The baby cooed. He exhaled.

Then the baby shifted, letting out a small whimper.

His breath caught. "No, no, no, no, don’t cry—don’t cry!"

The baby’s face scrunched up, and before he could even blink—

WAILING.

"Shit—" He bounced the baby awkwardly. "Shh—it's okay, it's okay, your mom will be back soon, alright? Just—just calm down—"

The wailing got louder.

He started pacing. "What do you want? Food? Sleep? Money? I swear I’ll give you anything—just stop crying!"

The baby did not negotiate.

He was sweating.

"God, why did she leave me alone with you?!"

[playdat]

The Salesman × wife reader (a child)

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your child is clinging on you

Warning : none

The second you walked into the room, the baby reached out for you, little hands grabbing at the air desperately.

You smiled, lifting them into your arms. "Oh my everything…" you murmured, kissing their forehead.

Meanwhile, he stood off to the side, arms crossed. "You see them every hour of the day, I just got home, and yet—" He pointed at their child clinging to you, "This."

You chuckled. "They're just a mama's baby."

"Clearly." He sighed. "Unbelievable."

You smirked. "Jealous?"

"Of a baby? Absolutely."

__________________________________________________________________________________

[playdat]

the Salesman × Blind wife

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: He was busy at work when his phone buzzed—her name glowing on the screen.

There is no part 2 ★ __________________________________________________________________________________

The air was thick with tension. He had been working, as usual—calm, controlled, with nothing seeming out of place. But something gnawed at the back of his mind, a primal instinct that told him something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t paranoia; it was simply the awareness he had cultivated over years of being in dangerous situations. And now, it had turned into a cold certainty.

He could feel their presence before he even saw them. They had been following him for a while—two men, keeping their distance, blending in with the crowds but never truly leaving his side. They weren’t doing anything overtly suspicious, but the fact that they were walking in step behind him for blocks wasn’t coincidental. They were following him.

He didn’t break his stride. He knew better than to confront them too soon. He continued walking, letting them think he hadn't noticed, His eyes narrowed as he turned a corner, carefully making sure they stayed in his peripheral vision. He could tell they were amateurs, trying to make him feel nervous or suspicious, but they didn’t know who they were dealing with.

He led them on for several blocks, purposefully allowing them to follow, until he reached a dimly lit alleyway, tucked away from prying eyes. A perfect place for what he had in mind.

The first man made a move—reaching into his coat, likely going for a weapon. But he was too slow. The Salesman grabbed his wrist in a blur of motion, twisting it until the sound of bone cracking echoed in the quiet alley. The man’s breath hitched in shock, but before he could scream, the Salesman shoved him hard against the brick wall.

The second man, now aware of the danger, rushed forward in a panic, but his efforts were futile. The Salesman was faster, more efficient. A quick strike to his gut left him gasping for air, unable to move as the first man crumpled to the ground.

He dragged them to one of his many houses, one that was used for moments like this—places where business could be handled without any interruptions. He tied them to chairs in the dimly lit room, their heads still spinning from the beating. They were too disoriented to speak, too frightened to resist.

He stood before them, his face cold, devoid of any emotion.

"Let's play a game," he said in a calm, almost bored voice, pulling a gun from his belt.

"Only one of you can win."

He loaded the gun slowly, savoring the tension in the air. The men stared at him in horror.

"The name of the game is: rock, paper, scissors. I believe both of you know the rules," he continued, his voice smooth and steady.

He inserted a single bullet into the chamber, spun the barrel with a practiced flick of his wrist, then held the gun up to his head. His finger hovered over the trigger, his expression unreadable. "Let's see what happens next," he murmured.

The first pull of the trigger echoed through the room—but nothing. No shot.

He let out a whistle, lowering the gun as he smiled at them. "See? Easy."

The men sat frozen, terrified. It wasn’t relief they felt—no, it was only fear. They knew what would happen if they lost.

They could sense that their lives were no longer in their own hands.

"Now let’s play," the salesman said again, his voice turning cold as he placed the gun in the center of their sickening game.

"Rock. Paper. Scissors."

The game began. Each man took their turn. The tension thickened. Each time, the salesman put the gun to the loser’s head, pulled the trigger... and again, nothing.

"Lucky, aren’t we?" he said with a smirk.

"Let’s continue."

Another round. More anticipation. The men were a mess, their eyes wide with fear, barely able to breathe as the salesman continued his twisted game.

"again."

The man on the left lost. The fear in his eyes was evident, his chest rising and falling rapidly as panic set in. The Salesman raised the gun once more, his expression still unreadable, and placed it gently on the man’s temple.

“Please,” the man begged, his voice a quiver of desperation, but the Salesman didn’t respond. Instead, he pressed the trigger again.

Click.

Nothing.

The man was shaking now, his hands bound to the chair, his whole body trembling. The Salesman stepped back, his smile growing, savoring the fear that radiated off the man.

“Lucky, aren’t we?” the Salesman said, a twisted amusement in his voice. “Let’s continue.”

Another round. Rock, paper, scissors.

Gun to the head. Pressing the trigger.

Click.

Still nothing. The tension was mounting now, palpable in the air. The game had become more than just a game. It had become a test, a cruel reminder of how easily their lives could be snuffed out.

“This is getting boring,” the Salesman said after a moment. He took a deep breath, almost sighing, before adding, “Let’s add more, shall we?”

He slid three bullets into the revolver, taking his time, savoring the moment. The men were sweating now, unable to break free of their restraints, their bodies still trembling from the terror they had endured so far.

Rock, paper, scissors.

He raised the gun again, this time pointing it directly at the man’s head, the pressure of the trigger heavy under his finger. He was about to pull it when—

His phone rang.

For a split second, time seemed to freeze.

The sound of the ringing phone filled the silence, cutting through the tension like a knife. The Salesman’s eyes flicked to the screen, and for a brief moment, his expression softened. The number on the display was unmistakable.

It was his wife.

His heart dropped. The two men in front of him suddenly seemed insignificant. They could wait.

He glanced back at the two men, his gaze dark and threatening, warning them without words not to make a sound. The men, still bound and vulnerable, froze in terror.

he answered the phone. "Yes, my dear?" His voice, though he tried to control it, had softened when he spoke to her.

The voice on the other end was weak, strained. “Hey, dear... so this morning, I kind of fell out and hurt my knee. It’s nothing serious, but it’s starting to hurt, and... I was just wondering when you’ll be coming home?”

The Salesman’s heart skipped a beat. His world shifted for a moment, the coldness of the room fading into something else entirely. His thoughts were no longer on the men before him but on her—the one person who still had the power to make him feel human.

His chest tightened. He felt the coldness of the room press against him. He immediately switched gears, his protective instincts flaring. How? When? Where did it happen? he asked urgently, his eyes never leaving the two men in front of him.

"I’ll be back soon, my dear. Don’t move too much, okay?"

He spoke softly into the phone, trying not to let his rising panic show. The men before him were still tied up, sweating, watching him closely as he silently threatened them with just his gaze.

"Alright, and I’m sorry for calling you while you’re working..."

His heart skipped. He could hear the guilt in her voice, and it made him want to rush home even faster. He had to fight the rising concern flooding his chest.

"Oh, darling, don’t say that. You can call me anytime, you know that. I’m always here for you." He paused, his voice more tender now, his words laced with affection. "I love you."

And just like that, everything else faded away. His heart ached, his thoughts consumed with her safety.

After a moment, he ended the call, throwing the phone onto the table with a soft clatter.

“Looks like we have to finish this quickly,” he said, his voice ice-cold once more.

“I have no interest in wasting my time here.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

@dyingswanpavlova @preppyfella @mskiabbs @muchwita

[playdat]

the Salesman × Blind wife

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: While walking, they stumbled upon a few tiny kittens, helpless and alone. Her heart ached at the sight—where was their mother?

Author's Note: In the morning I found a few kittens in front of my house. It seemed that someone had gotten rid of them. I tried to feed them milk, but to no avail. They were screaming, wanting their mother, and this broke my heart. They may not have a happy story in reality, but at least I will give it to them one in my imagination.

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They were walking side by side, her hand loosely hooked around his arm as they strolled down the quiet street. The evening air was cool, the sound of distant traffic blending into the background. It was peaceful—until a soft, desperate cry broke through the silence.

She stopped.

Her grip on his arm tightened as her head tilted slightly, listening. The cries were small, fragile, almost heartbreaking.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned her face towards the sound. "Do you hear that?"

He followed her gaze and spotted them—a tiny group of kittens, their fur messy and their little bodies trembling as they called out desperately.

Her breath hitched. "Where’s their mother?"

He glanced around, but there was no sign of her. The kittens mewed louder, as if begging for someone to answer.

"They're so small..." Her voice was shaky now, and when he turned to look at her, he saw her eyes glistening. "They’re scared. They want their mom..."

She knelt down, reaching out hesitantly, her fingers brushing the cold pavement as if hoping to comfort them.

His jaw tightened. He had seen her cry before—but this? This was different.

"Do you want to take them?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

She wiped her eyes quickly, shaking her head. "I—I don’t know... What if their mom comes back? What if they’re waiting for her?"

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "And what if she doesn’t?"

She went silent.

For a moment, she just listened to their cries, her heart breaking a little more with each one. Then, without another word, she scooped up the tiniest kitten and held it close to her chest, as if she could shield it from the world.

"Let’s take them home," she whispered.

As soon as they reached home, she carefully put the tiny kittens down on a soft blanket she had hurriedly spread on the floor. They were still mewing, curling up into each other for warmth. She knelt beside them for a moment, her fingers gently stroking their small bodies, her heart swelling with both relief and worry.

Then, suddenly, she turned around and hugged him.

It wasn’t one of her usual playful hugs—it was tight, almost desperate. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her face pressed against his chest as she let out a shaky breath.

He stiffened for a second, caught off guard. "What’s this for?"

"Just...thank you," she murmured. "For letting me bring them home."

His hands slowly found their way to her back, holding her just as tightly. He exhaled, his chin resting on top of her head. "You’re too soft, you know that?"

She hummed against him, not letting go. "And you love me for it."

He sighed, his fingers tracing circles against her back. "Unfortunately, I do."

I just added this you can read it or not <3 :

She didn’t let go, and neither did he. The kittens’ soft meows filled the room, but for a moment, it was just them—her warmth against him, her breath steadying.

"I was scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if we hadn’t found them? What if their mother never comes back?"

He exhaled, rubbing slow circles on her back. "Then they would’ve been alone, Just like me." He didn’t say the last part out loud.

She pulled back slightly, tilting her head up at him, even though her blind eyes couldn’t meet his. "But they’re not alone now, right?"

His grip on her tightened. "No. They’re not."

She smiled softly, her hands moving to cup his face. "Neither are you."

His throat tightened, and he hated how easily she could unravel him. He had spent years perfecting the art of detachment, of control—but she destroyed it with just a few words.

Before he could respond, she pressed a kiss against his jaw, then his cheek, her lips lingering for a moment. "I love you," she whispered.

His heart clenched. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. "Yeah... I know."

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