#hwang in-ho x reader

[lumnix3]

The Architect and the Muse

this is my first time writing a fic soo lmk what you think !

The control room hummed with subdued power, its sleek walls and towering monitors casting a cold, unyielding glow. On the screens, the macabre ballet of Red Light, Green Light unfolded—players moving and stopping, their lives dictated by a mechanical doll’s gaze. Death punctuated the air like gunshots, for that was exactly what they were.

At the center of it all, Hwang In-Ho sat in his throne-like chair, his tailored suit immaculate despite the undercurrent of violence in the room. His mask, as much a shield as a crown, obscured his expression, but the weight of his presence was unmistakable. Draped across his lap, you embodied an eerie grace, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the armrest as your gaze lingered on the carnage below.

“You see her hesitate?” In-Ho’s voice was a low, commanding rumble, his gloved hand resting possessively on your hip. “Player 029. Her legs quiver before every step. Weakness will swallow her whole.”

You tilted your head slightly, lips curving into a faint smirk. “And yet, the bold ones are the real spectacle. They’re the first to break when things get… personal.”

His fingers tightened reflexively on your waist, a quiet affirmation. “And the ones who don’t break?”

“They burn,” you said, your tone as detached as it was assured. “Beautifully, I might add.”

Your eyes remained fixed on the monitors, cataloging every stutter, every falter, every flash of defiance, as your mind began to drift to where it all started..

The rain lashed against the cracked pavement of a forgotten alleyway. Hwang In-Ho, disheveled and gaunt, leaned against the wall, his suit tattered and soaked. He clutched the prize money, his victory in the games a hollow triumph that gnawed at his soul.

“You look like hell,” a voice remarked, cutting through the storm.

He glanced up sharply, and there you stood, umbrella in hand, the rain sliding off its edges as if refusing to touch you. Your sharp eyes seemed to dissect him in an instant.

“And you,” he rasped, voice raw with despair, “look like you don’t belong here.”

“Maybe,” you replied, stepping closer. “But you do. And I’m curious—what keeps someone like you standing when it’d be so much easier to fall?”

He didn’t answer, but something in your gaze held him there, a tether he didn’t know he needed. Over time, your quiet strength became his anchor, your sharp mind his counsel. When you discovered the horrors behind the games, you didn’t flinch. Instead, you stayed. You stayed, and he began to realize you weren’t just his salvation—you were his equal.

Snapping out of it, the tension in the air was a living thing. The eerie melody of "Red light, Green light" echoed across the arena, the giant doll swiveling its head with mechanical precision.

On the monitors, Player 029 hesitated again.

“Watch,” In-Ho murmured, his voice reverent. “She’s done.”

The crack of a rifle confirmed it. The player’s body hit the ground, lifeless.

You leaned back against his chest, your calm mirroring his own. His arm tightened around you, fingers brushing yours in a silent exchange.

“Some surprises,” you murmured, gesturing to another screen. A bold player—Player 067—had darted forward in defiance of the doll’s rhythm, earning gasps from her fellow competitors.

“She’ll be one to watch,” In-Ho admitted, a rare hint of admiration threading his tone.

You hummed in agreement, the faintest trace of a smile playing on your lips. “For now.”

The room dimmed, the monitors fading into standby mode as the first game drew to a bloody close. In-Ho removed his mask, revealing the sharp planes of his face. His eyes, dark and searching, found yours.

“You see things I don’t,” he murmured, his hand cupping your jaw. “I trust your eyes more than my own.”

You chuckled, a soft sound that belied the weight of your shared history. “Careful, In-Ho. You’ll spoil me with that worship.”

His gaze hardened slightly, a reminder of the feral edge that always lingered just beneath his surface. “You’re already spoiled. And I’d destroy anyone who tried to take that from you.”

You traced your finger along the edge of his jaw, your touch as much a challenge as an affirmation. “You’d better." You mutter as you draw closer to him. In-Ho's thumb brushed over your lower lip, the gesture a silent question. You answered by tilting your head forward slightly, inviting him closer. His breath was warm against your mouth, the faint scent of mint and expensive cologne mixing in the air. When he kissed you, it was with the same fierce intensity he brought to every battle, but tempered with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

Your hands slid around his neck, fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair as you deepened the kiss. The world around you faded into the background, leaving only the steady rhythm of your heartbeats echoing in your ears. You felt the tension in his muscles, the way they flexed under your touch, and the heat that seemed to radiate from his very core.

In-Ho's grip tightened, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. His other hand rested on the small of your back, the pressure both reassuring and demanding. You could feel his desire, a potent force that seemed to vibrate in the air around you. It matched the thundering of your pulse, the rush of blood in your veins.

But as the final buzzer sounded, the room flooding with light and the sound of cheers and curses from the other players, you reluctantly broke the kiss. In-Ho's eyes searched yours, the question clear even without words. You nodded, and pulled away. The moment had been perfect, a secret shared between the two of you amidst the chaos of the games.

The surviving players were herded out of the arena, their terror lingering in the air like smoke. The control room was silent but for the crackle of monitors.

You rose gracefully from In-Ho’s lap, smoothing over your suit. Your voice, calm but laced with an edge, broke the quiet.

“Let’s make the second game… unforgettable.”

In-Ho smirked, his voice low and amused. “What do you have in mind?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your eyes alight with something dangerous. “Why don’t i join with you? Shake things up a little.”

His laughter was a dark, rumbling sound. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good thing I like the heat.”

As the monitors flickered to life again, the next game revealed itself—a playground, with two giant rainbow circles on either side of the place. The room seemed to hum with anticipation, the stakes rising for both the players and the couple who controlled their fates.

In-Ho reached for your hand, his voice a whisper. “Let’s see if they can survive your game.”

Your smile was razor-sharp. “Let’s see if they can survive us.”

[tokoyamisstuff]

The Price of Kindness

ft. Salesman, Masked Officer, Front Man (separately)

@stygianoir requested sth about "love at first sight", but those guys are ✨️canonically insane✨️, so don't expect something healthy and lighthearted (though I did make them uncharacteristically nice). Warnings: not proofread, pretty ooc, slight obsession/stalking, manipulation, hints to unhealthy future dynamics, kinda marysue (but hey we're here to have fun aint we)

Salesman

The first time he saw you, it was merely on a file with potential players.

Another sob story of undeserved crippling debt, accumulated through circumstances you had no control over.

Sure, you had a pretty face, but were unwilling to resort to dirty work that could easily help yourself out of your predicament. He could never relate, having worked in the games from childhood on to pay off loans he wasn't even responsible for.

To him such principles weren't admirable, no - they were a flaw, a sign of weakness.

So naturally he never felt an ounce of pity for folks like you, even if the cards one was born with or the situation they ended up in was entirely not their fault.

World's unfair, get used to it. If you're unwilling to do whatever's necessary to survive, that's on you.

Survival of the fittest, some might say.

It's been a while since he started observing you in order to find the perfect moment to offer you the Dalgona game. You're always smiling through the sorrow, carry yourself with dignity even when you had to beg for scraps.

And despite most people treating you like a lowlife, you never seem to fight back.

Pathetic.

When he witnessed you spending the last of your hard earned money to feed some random homeless person, he decided enough was enough.

"You must really like struggling, huh?" he scoffed when he dropped on the bench right besides you. You raise an eyebrow at the strange man, nervously shifting on your seat. "And you are?"

"A concerned citizen." Sure...

There was something about his voice, smooth like silk but with an etch to it that made the fine hair on your arms stand up, almost as if subconsciously alerted.

"Why did you do it?" he asks, pointing over his shoulder to the disheveled elder man, eagerly devouring a meal you definetly needed yourself. You shrug. "I can work, he can't anymore. Doesn't cost anything to be kind."

Your explanation made him roll his eyes so hard, he thought they'd get stuck in his skull. "Of course it does. It's painfully obvious that this was a lot of money for someone like you, and you practically threw it into the trash."

Such a fucking waste of potential...

"Well, it did make a difference, for him it did." You beam at him with a smile so blindingly bright, he didn't know whether to be irritated or interested. "I wholeheartedly believe that if we all would take care of each other, this world would be a much better place."

Yeah, yeah...the old 'What you do to one person means nothing to the world, but it means the world to that person' bullshit. But newsflash, this isn't how our society operates.

The strong prey on the weak, a few idealistic fools aren't gonna change that.

And yet, this whole speech he mentally prepared for your eventual meeting had just evaporated from his mind as soon as you looked at him with that naive hopefulness in your eyes.

"Aren't you tired of bending over backwards for others?" His eloquent silver tongue was clearly failing him today if that was all he came up with - but right now he almost felt hurt in your stead. "What has this mindset ever done for you?"

Right. You should be mad, furious even!

There's no shame in sinking to the level of those responsible for this injustice. If not to make them pay, then at least so you'd become able to make some actual change.

Instead you're sitting here, on a filthy train station in the midst of the night, trying to sugarcoat your situation as if it was was some meaningful sacrifice.

"I can't really explain it..." You gaze into the distance, smile never faltering, not even when your eyes gloss with unshed tears from your hardships. "But knowing I eased someone else's burden just a little bit makes it all worth it."

The odd businessman sighs deeply, neither his expression nor his tone giving away whether it was out of frustration or sympathy.

Either way, his reaction made you laugh a bit bashful. "It was nice talking to you, Sir" you say, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's rare to meet a person that actually listens to what someone like me has to say."

There is a long break of silence between your words and his reaction.

Then, after rumagging in his chest pocket for a moment, but instead of offering you the usual deal, he stuffs some crumpled banknotes into your hand.

"Treat yourself" he breaks the silence while you stare at the money in disbelief. "...or give it to another worthless piece of shit, I don't care."

"I can't-"

"Yes you can" he cuts you off sharply, yet with an almost caring insistence. "And you have to. Because I won't take it back."

As he prepares to leave you jump up, calling after him. "What's your name? How can I contact you? I will pay you back, I promise!"

He chuckles quite amused, raising his hand as means of dismissal. "Don't worry, I'll find you."

Can't hurt to take it easy once in a while, he tells himself, feeling a warmth spread in his chest as he remembers the way your face lit up like a christmas tree at his unexpected act of charity.

Maybe you were onto something, after all...

...or at least this might be entertaining for a while.

Masked Officer

Ironically, the place of your first meeting was the same he'd potentially lose you.

Outside of the games, his main task is making out potential players and soldiers alike.

Truth be told, it has become somewhat of a pastime, really. Field study in human behavior or something like that, many colleagues of his also took a liking to observe rather than be a part of civil life.

A side-effect of becoming so utterly disconnected from society.

He's been a regular at many hospitals, officially disguised as voluntary visitor, but secretly managing both organ trade and recruitment.

Logically medical bills can be crushing, and being too ill to work was also a huge factor of debt spiraling out of control.

You're a regular patient here, severely ill which was a shame honestly since with the right amunt of wealth, this wouldn't even be an issue.

He met you in an elevator, shockingly frail and yet your sickness did nothing to dull your stunning beauty. You sat in a wheelchair in obvious pain, not once stopping to joke with the nurses despite your apparent struggle.

"Why the long face?" The tall man glances down quite confused, seeing you eye him with genuine worry as if you weren't the one in need of help right now. "...that's just the way I look" he grumbles and you snort a laugh at his almost offended reaction.

It had become quite your thing to support or at least cheer up others however you could, no matter if it was a loved one or a complete stranger. Well, truth be told, it was probably more of a coping strategy than anything - a desperate attempt to distract yourself from your own miserable life.

And this guy right there? He was the kind of person that chose to suffer in silence, but you saw right through the stoic act.

Over the course of your agonizingly long stay in this tiny countryside hospital, the two of you would run into each other countless times at random locations.

Eache time it would all go about the same, with him giving short-cut answers to deflect your pathetic attempts at smalltalk, maybe some harmless banter if he felt particulary generous. He wasn't rude or anyhting, remaining polite yet distanced since there was no reason in being cruel to someone whose existence didn't matter to him at all...

...until it did.

Slowly but steadily, he got used to your presence, anticipating it even. He caught himself aimlessly wandering through the corridors, hoping to 'coincidentally' cross paths with you again, feeling anxious whenever he wouldn't see you for a few days in a row.

So he kept telling himself just checking on you can't hurt, but this soon turned into sincere visits.

As your meetings became intentional, your interactions got more meaningful as well, with him pushing your wheelchair to the small garden behind the building or simply staying at your sickbed during extraordinary bad days. Some days he'd sit in the waiting room to help you pass time, others he'd bring snacks from the outside or even flowers.

Opening up certainly wasn't his forte - neither did he intend to - but he may have slipped up the fact that he once lost someone to a similar condition as yours, which explains a lot.

Once you had lunch together in the cafeteria, laughing hysterically at his serious rant about the clinical food. You appreciated that he didn't treat you like some fragile flower, and he enjoyed that you weren't intimidated by him in the slightest.

"You're too kind for your own good" he always scolded you, "It won't get you anywhere."

"It got me to you, silly!" you'd chirp, gifting him a dreamy smile that made his heart stop a beat or two, and he wondered how someone so weak could have such power over him.

Indeed, your bond grew so natural, mending each other's souls as if it was indeed fate that brought you here.

When your condition worsened though, and they couldn't find a matching donor, that pleasant illusion was scattered just like that.

You're holding his hand when you tell him that your days were limited, consoling him instead of the other way around and thanking him countless time - because the impact he had on your life would make you able to pass fullfilled.

That's enough, he thought, zoning out as reality crept up on him, spitting into his face and taunting him for daring to raise his hopes.

He won't allow it.

You were his salvation, his second chance - and he won't let anyone take you from him, not even death itself.

Seems like he needs to harvest a heart...

Frontman

Does it really count as love at first sight if it was only through a monitor?

You were one of the rather unimpressive players of the most recent Squid Game, the type of person you're wondering how they endured up to that point.

In-ho had taken a liking to you nonetheless, still waters run deep or so they say.

He stopped rooting for you however when he noticed the way you selflessly cared for others to the point of neglecting yourself. It hit a bit too close to home, reminded him of what the humanity he abandoned in order to survive and how it's haunting himself every single day ever since.

So when you win against all odds and chances, without any blood on your hands at that, the Frontman convinces himself that he loathes you and everything you stand for.

Still, as he gathered the composure for his usual congratulation, his heart clenched painfully against all logic as he wittnessed you collapsed and sobbing on the crimson-stained floor.

Before he knew it he was cradling your unconscious self into his arms holding you tight against his chest as he carried you into the infirmary.

Surprisingly, as soon as you recovered and were about to be escorted home, you ask for an audience with the mastermind out of your own accord, and as curious as he is cunning, he accepts.

If only you knew who had been lurking at your bedside, his gloved knuckles tentatively stroking your cheek as he contemplated whether to suffocate you with his pillow or use his bare hands.

In the end, he did neither of it.

The drive to your hometown is a long one, stretched by uncomfortable silence and a nervousness in your presence he isn't willing to acknowledge. He subconsciously sat down in the back of the limousine right next to you, so close he could easily pull you in for- nevermind. His mind is wandering to strange places lately.

You didn't demand an explanation for his actions, nor did you try to appeal to his morality or anything. All you wanted from him was a list with names and all the information about your deceased fellow players he could provide.

"What for?" In-ho crossed one leg over the other, leaning forwards as if you were a puzzle he had yet to solve, and the prize being the only thing of worth to someone so obscenely rich. "If you think about going to the police, I can assure you-"

"I'm not stupid" you say, tears wettening through your blindfold and the sight makes his stomach churn. "There's no use in fighting against something so much bigger than me. I just- let me care for their loved ones. Make the best out of it."

That response somehow made him even more infatuated infuriated with you than he already was, because how dare you staying so naively positive after everything you've been through?!

It was like your very existence was taunting him for his mistakes - a living testimony of his shortcomings.

The true extend of despair you had him spiral into only emerged when the aftermath of the games were cleared, and In-ho was once again standing in front of the abyss that was his empty life for yet another year.

From then onwards, breaking your spirit becomes his twisted motivator, in order to not lose his mind over this unfair twist of luck compared to his own misfortune.

Kindness is not a virtue, it's a weakness - and he'd teach you this lesson one way or another.

The blinking of a GPS-tracker they injected under your skin was the only light that illuminated the Frontman's limousine when he parked it in front of your home on that rainy afternoon.

Your lifestyle didn't change a bit, one would never assume you were basically one of the wealthiest people in this country. And yet there you were, still living in that rundown apartment in the worst part of your hometown.

Most of the prize-money remained untouched, only used to pay off your debts and send anonymous donations to the player's families. Even your own living cost you'd carry by working part-time like you actually enjoyed being a lowlife instead of elevating yourself to another level. Foolish.

Seems like he has to take on drastic measures to make you see the truth...

....and if he can't convince you as your enemy, then he'll have to do it from the other side.

In-ho used his binoculars to peek through the window from afar, watching as you make dinner from scratch while singing and dancing across the room. He'd never admit, but at that moment he misses the sound of your voice - it's just not the same on the recordings, especially with the screams and cries of other participants mingling in between.

The man confidently strolls towards your door, reciting the whole plan in his head down to the last minicule detail. A knock, then two and then slamming against it before frantically ringing the doorbell.

"H-hello, I'm so sorry to disturb you at this hour, but my car broke down...you don't mind helping out a stranger, do you?"

[gameofus]

BENEATH THE MASK : ̗̀➛ hwang in-ho

pairing: hwang in-ho x fem!reader

warnings: reader is a guard, power dynamics, wall sex, rough sex, overstimulation, desk sex, consent kink, dirty talk, light choking, fully clothed sex (initially), mask kink, mirror sex, aftercare, praise kink, possessive behavior, porn without plot, dom!in-ho, sub!reader, explicit language

summary: Assigned to the Frontman’s private office as one of his most trusted guards, you expect silence, order, control. What you don’t expect is for him to notice you — to watch you, to want you.

And when he finally decides to take what he wants, it’s with a voice like command, hands that won’t let you fall, and a promise whispered through the mask: You can still say no. But you won’t.

word count: 3k

FIND ME ON AO3

The air in his office always feels different, colder, more sterile. Or maybe it’s the tension. The silence. The way the thick bulletproof glass muffles every sound outside but amplifies your heartbeat in your ears.

You stand still just inside the door, your helmet on, hands clasped behind your back in perfect posture. Exactly the way he expects.

The Frontman stands across the room, motionless behind his desk, cloaked in shadows and tailored black. The mask hides everything, but you feel his eyes on you — watching. Judging. Deciding.

“In uniform,” he says finally, voice filtered through the mask’s modulator. “Good girl.”

A pulse of heat rushes through you at the sound. You try to stay composed, but your breath catches.

He begins to walk around the desk, slow and methodical, like a predator circling. You don’t move. Not even when his gloved hand brushes your shoulder in passing.

“You wanted this assignment,” he says. “My command. My rules.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, voice a little too breathy.

He stops behind you, his presence heating your back even through the thick uniform.

“How badly did you want it?”

“Very badly, sir.”

Silence again. Then…

“Answer me carefully. Do you trust me?”

You swallow. “Yes, sir.”

He steps closer. You feel the heat of his body even through the layers.

“Are you sure?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“If I told you I’ve been watching you since your first patrol shift?”

You shiver. “Then I’d say… I hoped you had.”

A pause. Then his gloved fingers trail lightly along your jaw. Not touching skin. Just the outline. Just a ghost of a touch.

“I want to hear everything,” he says. “You speak. You beg. You say no when you mean no. And you scream when you mean yes. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He steps back slightly. “Take off your helmet. Slowly.”

Your fingers move up, unbuckling the straps, and you let it slide off. Your hair tumbles down, and the cool air hits your scalp.

You look at him.

He watches as he peels off one glove. Just one.

And your thighs clench.

“Hands on the desk,” he says, low and commanding. “Face me.”

You move instantly, placing your palms on the polished glass. Your breathing is shallow now — your heart hammering.

He approaches again, bare hand running lightly down your arm. Just enough to make you tremble.

“You can still leave,” he says.

“I don’t want to.”

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to leave, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Your stomach flutters.

“Now,” he murmurs behind you, “I’m going to touch you. I want to hear that you want it.”

“I want it, sir.”

His hands glide to your hips — one gloved, one bare and trace the curve of your waist. You hear the low sound he makes as he presses his hand between your thighs, cupping you through your uniform pants.

You moan.

“Already soaked.”

“Yes.”

“Beg me.”

“Please touch me, sir. Please I’ve wanted it for so long.”

He unbuttons your pants with one hand, dragging them slowly down to your thighs. You feel exposed, panties clinging damply to your heat, legs shaking slightly.

“Still okay?”

“Yes.”

“Color?”

“Green.”

His hand slides your panties to the side.

And then his fingers — bare, warm, press between your folds. He strokes you softly at first, teasing your clit in slow, maddening circles. You let out a choked whimper, pushing your hips back instinctively.

“Needy,” he says.

“Yes. Please…”

“Use your words.”

“Please fuck me with your fingers, sir. Please, I need it.”

He gives you what you asked for.

Two fingers, deep and fast. Curling. Filling. Stretching you just enough to make your breath catch and your legs shake. Your moans echo against the glass.

“Fuck,” you gasp, head hanging.

“You like being used like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Yes, I love it!”

He withdraws suddenly.

You let out a shaky gasp. “Why did you…?”

“Turn around.”

You spin, breathless, cheeks flushed. Your pants still cling around your thighs. Your panties are pulled to the side, and you can feel the slick trail running down your inner thighs.

He stands there, fully dressed, only one glove removed, his mask still on.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says simply. “But I want to hear you beg for it.”

You meet the empty, powerful gaze of the mask and feel yourself fall apart.

“Please fuck me, sir. I want your cock. I need it. Please, I need to feel you inside me.”

He groans softly behind the mask and starts to unbuckle his belt.

The sound of his belt coming undone is soft —just a faint click of metal and a slide of leather. And yet it echoes in your blood like thunder.

You don’t take your eyes off the mask.

His cock is thick and hard, already glistening at the tip, and your lips part involuntarily. The sight of him like this — still fully dressed, the mask hiding every expression, it makes your pulse pound between your legs.

He steps in, close enough that the tip of his cock brushes your inner thigh.

“You’re going to take every inch,” he says. “I want to feel how tight you get when you’re full of me.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. “Please, I want it!”

“I’m going to stretch you,” he murmurs, lining himself up with your entrance. “I’m going to ruin this pussy right here on my desk. And you’re going to say thank you.”

Your legs nearly give out.

“Yes… thank you…”

His bare hand is at your hip again, gripping firmly, while the gloved one cups your ass, guiding your body into position. Then, with one slow, steady push, he begins to slide inside.

You gasp at the stretch — he’s big, thick, the kind of fullness that makes your knees buckle. The first few inches make you whimper. By the time he’s buried all the way inside, your breath is gone.

He stays still for a second, holding you wide open, pinned against the desk like it’s where you belong.

“So fucking tight,” he growls behind the mask. “I can feel you fluttering around me.”

You let out a helpless sound.

“Still green?” he asks, voice firm but laced with tension.

“Yes, sir. Green. So green… please fuck me…”

The first thrust makes you cry out.

It’s deep and sharp, hips slamming into yours with perfect force. The desk creaks beneath your palms as he sets the pace — hard, rhythmic, brutal. You grip the edge, head bowed as he drives into you over and over.

You’re dripping, ruined, eyes squeezed shut with every glorious, punishing stroke.

“You feel this?” he pants. “This is mine. You’re mine.”

“Yes… yours… sir… fuck…”

His hand slides around your waist and down between your thighs. He finds your clit instantly, rubbing it in tight, controlled circles that make your mouth fall open.

“Oh my god!”

“Louder,” he demands. “I want everyone on this floor to know who you’re begging for.”

You can’t help it. You moan his name — his title, over and over, filthy and breathless, as the pressure builds fast and hard. His cock pounds deep, his fingers tease, his voice wrecks you.

“Please… I’m gonna… sir, I’m gonna come…”

“Come on my cock,” he growls. “Now.”

And you do.

It hits like a wave — tight and shattering and white-hot. You come hard around him, thighs trembling, nails scraping across the glass. Your cry echoes, unrestrained, messy, real.

He groans at the feel of you clenching around him, and his pace grows frantic.

“Fuck you feel so good…”

You reach back, trying to grab him, pull him closer. His body presses down over yours, and he fucks you with desperate precision, chasing his own high.

“Where do you want it?” he pants in your ear. “Inside you? On you?”

“Inside,” you moan. “Please I want it… fill me up.”

He slams in once, twice more. Then freezes with a deep, broken groan.

You feel the warmth flood you, his body jerking against yours as he comes. The sound he makes is rough and guttural — completely undone, completely yours.

Neither of you move for a moment.

You just breathe. Hard. Shaky. Sweaty. His chest is against your back, cock still pulsing inside you, both of you trembling.

You laugh softly, breathless and dazed.

“Still green?” he asks, voice low and soft now.

You nod against the desk. “Greener than ever.”

He pulls out slowly, carefully, and you shiver at the loss. His seed starts to drip down your thighs, and it only makes you clench harder.

“Fuck,” he mutters, smoothing a hand over your lower back. “You look perfect like this.”

You turn your head to glance back at him, lips parted, flushed and ruined and aching.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he says, voice dark and teasing. “We’re not done yet.”

Your heart skips.

He grabs your arm and pulls you upright, kissing your shoulder through the mask, then turns you around to face him again.

And this time he walks you backwards toward the wall.

Your back hits the cold concrete wall, and you gasp at the contrast — your skin flushed, sweaty, still trembling from the desk. He holds you there with one hand against your sternum, keeping you pinned like a butterfly, and the pressure makes your pulse race.

“You’re not done yet,” he repeats, voice low through the modulator. “I’m not done with you.”

Your panties are still shoved to the side, soaked through. His come is leaking down your thighs, hot and wet, and he watches it trail down your skin like it’s his favorite fucking thing.

“I want to ruin you,” he says.

“I want to be ruined,” you breathe, voice wrecked and trembling. “Please, sir, do whatever you want to me.”

The mask tilts slightly. “Say that again.”

“Do whatever you want to me.”

“You trust me that much?”

“Yes.”

A pause. He presses closer.

“Even if it’s rough?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I make you scream?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Color?”

“Green.”

He groans, low and strained and grabs you under the thighs. You gasp as he lifts you like you weigh nothing, pinning your back against the wall with his hips. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, locking him in. You feel his cock, already hard again, grinding against your soaked entrance.

“Fuck, you’re still dripping.”

“For you,” you whisper, shameless. “Always for you.”

“Such a good girl.”

He doesn’t tease this time.

One strong thrust, and he’s inside again — hard and fast, burying himself deep. You cry out, fingernails scraping across the shoulder of his suit as he sets a brutal pace, fucking you against the wall like he can’t get deep enough.

You’re soaked. Slick. Ruined. But god, it feels so fucking good.

The sounds — wet, filthy, frantic fill the room. The slap of skin, your desperate moans, his gritted growls behind the mask.

“Fuck… you’re so tight like this… walls squeezing me…”

“Y-You’re hitting so deep… oh god!”

“You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Yes, yes, harder please….”

“You like being used.”

“Yes.”

“You like knowing I could’ve picked anyone, any girl, any guard and I picked you.”

You whimper against his shoulder. “I—I love it. I want to be yours. Just yours.”

“You are.”

His gloved hand wraps around your throat — not squeezing, just holding. Claiming. His cock drives deeper, rougher, faster. Each thrust punches a cry out of your mouth.

“I want you to remember this,” he growls. “Every time you patrol these halls, every time you step into this office you remember how I fucked you against this wall.”

“I will I swear! Sir, I’m gonna…”

“Already?”

“Y-Yes… please, can I come again?”

“You want to come while I’m pounding this pussy?”

“Yes please, sir, please let me.”

He groans and pounds into you harder.

“Come for me. Right fucking now.”

Your body breaks.

You come with a scream — loud, raw, shaking apart in his arms. Your thighs clamp around him, your cunt squeezing him tight, and he curses through gritted teeth.

“Fucking perfect, so fucking good.”

You feel his grip tighten on your hips as he chases his own climax.

“Where?” he grunts. “Inside again?”

“Yes, fill me up, please, mark me.”

He slams into you once, twice more and then groans deep and guttural as he comes, cock pulsing inside you again, hot and full. You feel every throb, every drop.

You’re both panting, chests heaving, your back still pressed hard against the cold wall.

He doesn’t let go right away. His arms wrap around you, firm and possessive, and you rest your forehead against the side of his mask.

You’re trembling.

Your whole body feels wrecked and adored all at once.

“I got you,” he whispers. “Still green?”

You nod against him. “Greener than ever.”

He slides out slowly, carefully, and you both groan at the overstimulation. His release leaks out of you again, warm and messy down your thighs, and it makes you moan softly.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs, dragging one gloved thumb through the mess between your legs.

“Mm. Good.”

“Fuck,” he groans, mask pressing to your neck. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Your thighs are still trembling when he lowers you slowly to the floor, arms wrapped around your back, holding you like something precious.

Your back presses to the cool wall as you try to catch your breath, hair damp with sweat, your uniform rumpled, body used and aching — in the best way.

He smooths a hand down your thigh, fingers teasing the mess between your legs. You flinch, gasping.

“Sensitive?” he murmurs.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Too sensitive?”

You pause… then shake your head. “No. Not yet.”

The Frontman tilts his head slightly. “Color?”

You smile, wrecked. “Still green.”

He hums, satisfied, and glides his gloved hand slowly up your inner thigh, stopping just before your core. He leans in, masked mouth hovering beside your ear.

“Good girl.”

Your breath hitches.

“Now,” he murmurs, voice like smoke. “Take off your clothes.”

Your eyes widen.

“All of them?” you ask.

“Every. Last. Thing.”

You swallow. “You too?”

He pauses.

Then reaches up with his bare hand.

And undoes the clasp of the mask.

You watch — hypnotized as he lifts it off, revealing sharp cheekbones, dark hair damp with sweat, intense brown eyes locked directly on you. His jaw is clenched. He’s flushed. And beautiful.

You don’t move. You just stare.

“Strip,” he says again — this time without the filter. Just his real voice. Deep. Low. Hungry.

You obey.

You peel your uniform off slowly, letting the jacket fall to the floor first. Then your top. Then, with a shiver, your panties, all wet and tangled. You step out of them, bare and flushed and exposed.

You’re not used to being seen like this.

But he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you.

He undoes the buttons on his suit one at a time, peeling the jacket off with slow, deliberate control. Then the shirt. His body is lean, muscled, marked by tension. He pulls off his undershirt next, then finally peels the remaining glove off and drops it to the floor.

He doesn’t speak.

He just comes closer.

Then he takes your wrist and walks you across the room to the far wall, where a tall mirror hangs behind the door.

“Look,” he says, pulling you in front of it. “Look at how ruined you are.”

You do.

And holy fuck.

Your lips are red and kiss-bruised. Your chest is flushed. Your thighs are streaked with his release, still dripping. There’s a light mark forming at your throat where he held you. You look like you were wrecked, fucked, taken — and you look so good like this.

You exhale, shaking.

He steps behind you. Wraps an arm around your waist. Meets your eyes in the mirror.

“You said you wanted to be mine.”

“I do.”

“Then I want you to see what mine looks like.”

He bends you slightly, angling you forward so your hands brace against the wall. He stays behind you, bare chest pressed to your back, lips grazing your shoulder.

He lines up again.

“You can take it one more time.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“You will take it,” he growls. “Because I said so.”

And with that, he pushes back inside you. You both moan.

This time, he’s slow. Agonizingly slow. Rolling his hips into yours with smooth, deep thrusts that make you see stars. He grips your hips and watches your face in the mirror as he takes you again.

Every slide of his cock hits perfectly, and you’re so sensitive it feels like you’re unraveling from the inside out.

“I love how wet you are,” he groans. “I could fuck this pussy all night.”

“You can, please, do it…”

“You love the way I take you.”

“Yes, sir. I love it, I love when you use me.”

“You don’t sound used,” he says, thrusting deeper. “You sound desperate.”

“I am.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair and gently pulls your head back so you meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Tell me whose you are.”

“Yours.”

“Again.”

“Yours, sir.”

“Louder.”

“YOURS.”

He slams into you so hard you cry out, and your hands slip against the wall. He pulls you back up, keeps you steady, kisses your shoulder hard.

“You’re going to come again,” he says. “One more time.”

“I don’t think I…”

“You will. And you’ll thank me for it.”

His fingers find your clit again, rubbing perfect circles in time with his strokes.

You’re soaked.

So overstimulated.

And then — you break.

You come again with a soundless scream, thighs shaking, legs nearly giving out. He holds you steady as you fall apart, thrusting into you through your orgasm with low, hungry grunts.

“Fuck, that’s it, take it… take it all.”

He spills inside you for the third time, chest tight against your back, hands gripping your waist like you’re the only thing holding him to the ground.

You both fall forward slightly.

Breathing ragged. Slick with sweat. Hearts pounding.

He wraps his arms around you from behind, presses his forehead to the side of your head. You stand there in the mirror together, bodies still joined, flushed and shaking and tangled.

“Still green?” he whispers against your neck.

You laugh softly, exhausted. “Barely. But yes.”

He pulls out, slowly, carefully. Both of you hiss at the sensitivity. He runs one hand between your thighs again, spreading the mess, watching it drip.

“Mine,” he murmurs.

You lean back against his chest.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yours.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Beneath Chaos—Hwang In ho/Player 001 x Fem!Reader

summary— amid the deadly Squid Game, you form a forbidden bond with Young-il, a married man. one night after lights out, seeking comfort, you ask him to stay by your side and things escalate.

warnings— no spoilers, age gap(reader is in her 20s, young-il is in his 40s), infidelity, oral(f!receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— for the newbies, y/n in all my stories is black but ofc, everyone can read <3 also this man has so many names, omfg.

Part II

The games had taken their toll on everyone. The latest round had been especially brutal, dead bodies across the arena, screams still ringing in your ears even after hours. Everyone was on edge, fear settling deep into their bones as they huddled in their corners of the dormitory, too paranoid to sleep.

You sat in the dim light, knees drawn up to your chest, trying to quiet your breathing. You glanced over to the group you had managed to stick with, Gi-hun, Jung Bae, Dae-ho, the rest and—Young il.

Your gaze lingered on him longer than it should have. He was older, quiet, and deliberate in his actions, his face lined with age and attractiveness. There was a steadiness to him, even in the chaos of the games, that drew you in despite your better judgment. You knew he had a wife, he had mentioned her being in the hospital when the group shared snippets of their lives. But the magnetic pull you felt toward him was undeniable.

The sleeping quarters was cold, the hum of fear in the air. You hesitated before shifting closer to him. “Young-il,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He turned to you, his expression calm but questioning. “What is it?”

You swallowed hard, feeling foolish for even asking. “Can you—can you stay beside me tonight? I just, um, I don’t feel safe.”

He regarded you for a moment, his dark eyes scanning your face. Then, after a beat of silence, he nodded. “Alright.”

Relief washed over you as he moved closer, sitting beside you on the thin mattress. The proximity made your heart race, but you told yourself it was just the stress of the situation.

Hours passed, and the room slowly quieted as people succumbed to exhaustion. You and Young-Il lay on your sides, facing each other. The dim light cast soft shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the lines etched into his skin.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing.

You blinked, startled. “Like what?”

“Like I’m the answer to whatever you’re feeling right now,” he said, his tone gentle but firm.

You flushed, breaking eye contact. “I’m sorry. I know you’re married. I shouldn’t—”

“Shh,” he said softly, his hand brushing against yours. “Let’s just forget everything for a moment.”

Your breath hitched as he moved closer, his face inches from yours. His lips brushed yours, hesitating at first, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, but the weight of everything unsaid between you made it feel electric.

You pulled back suddenly, guilt flooding you. “I can’t. This isn’t right. You have a wife—”

“Don’t think about that right now,” he interrupted, his voice a low murmur. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Just stay with me.”

His lips captured yours again, this time more insistent. The kiss deepened, a hunger building between you as the world outside faded away. His hands roamed down your body and you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into his touch.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of warmth. Your breath came in shallow gasps as he moved lower, his hands gripping your hips firmly. When he reached the waistband of your sweatpants, he paused, looking up at you for permission.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with both desire and restraint.

You nodded, unable to form words, your heart pounding in your chest.

With deliberate care, he tugged down your sweats and underwear, his lips pressing gentle kisses along your thighs as he did. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with awe.

With his eyes locked on yours, his head lowered between your legs. His lips captured your bundle of nerves, sucking softly as a soft gasp left your lips. You pressed them together, not wanting to wake anyone to see what was taking place. His tongue flicked your clit sending more pleasure than you had ever felt throughout your body, making you shiver.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured between your legs.

You nodded frantically, fingers lacing in his silky hair as he continued feasting on your pussy. His tongue glided from your hole back up to your clit then down again. He circled your hole, letting his tongue slip inside as he collected your juices on his tongue. Your free hand clamped over your mouth, desperately trying to keep quiet as he slipped a finger inside your pussy.

Your back arched from the bed as his skilled finger curled and his tongue sucked on your clit with ferocity.

“You’re doing so well, cum for me, cum on my tongue and my fingers,” he whispered.

Your fingers curled into the thin blanket beneath you as he continued, each flick of his tongue and thrust of his finger sending shivers down your spine. His movements became overwhelming and you pressed your lips together tightly as an intense orgasm washed over you making your back arch from the small bed.

“That’s it, good girl, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

In that moment, the fear and chaos of the games melted away, leaving you wanting more. You trembled beneath him, breathless and aching, your skin tingling from the intensity of his tongue. “Young-il,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the dormitory. “I need more. Please.”

He stilled, his dark eyes meeting yours, searching for something. “Are you sure?” he murmured.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes,” you whispered, your lips brushing his ear as your fingers gripped his shoulders.

His lips curved into a soft smirk, his hands sliding up your sides. “Then beg for it,” he said, his voice low and commanding, with dominance you hadn’t expected.

Your cheeks burned, but the desperation in your chest won out. “Please,” you murmured, your voice soft but trembling with need. “Please, Young-il, I need you. I need you to fuck me.”

“As you wish,” he interrupted. He shifted to sit back on his knees, his hands deftly tugging his sweats and boxers down. He watched your reaction as he freed his hard cock, his gaze heavy.

“Look at you,” he murmured, one hand stroking over your hip as his other lined himself up at your leaking entrance. “So perfect, so beautiful. I don’t deserve this, but, God, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

You gasped as he pressed his cock into you slowly, his whispered praises filling the space between you. “That’s it,” he encouraged, his hand braced beside your head. “You’re doing so well. So tight, so perfect for me.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts measured and deliberate. The quiet around you made every sound amplified, the soft rustle of sheets, skin slapping, the hitch in your breath, and his murmured words of adoration. “Cum for me,” he whispered into your ear, his voice cracking with need. “Do it, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

You cried out softly, your hands clutching him as you surrendered, your body shuddering against his as your pussy gushed on his raw cock. He held you through it, his touch firm and grounding.

Moments later, he shifted, his body warm and solid beside you. “I’m not done with you,” he murmured, lifting your leg over his hip as he slid into your throbbing cunt.

The angle made you gasp, your hand flying to his arm as he held you close. “You’re f-fucking me so good,” you managed, your voice breathless.

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Stay with me. Feel everything, just like this. You’re perfect, you hear me? Perfect.”

Your breaths mingled as he began pounding into you harder and the rhythm grew more intense, both of you trying to hold back the sounds that threatened to escape. His lips pressed against your ear. “Cum with me,” he urged, his voice a broken whisper. “Cum on my cock as I cum inside you, sweetheart.”

You clung to him as your orgasm took ahold of you once more, the world fading away as waves of warmth washed over you. His grip tightened, and his soft groan against your skin coupled with the feeling of his cum filling your pussy were the only confirmation you needed that he’d joined you.

When the high ended, he rolled onto his back, pulling you against his chest. His lips pressed gentle kisses along your hairline, your forehead, your cheeks. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and tender. “You’re going to get out of here. I promise.”

You nestled against him, his arms wrapped securely around you, the fear and chaos of the games momentarily forgotten.

[badasoneandonly]

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 || 𝘏𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘐𝘯-𝘩𝘰 × 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Wc: 872

Summary:

Haunted by memories of a love that once felt unbreakable, Y/N retraces the steps of her past with Hwang In-Ho, only to face him unexpectedly. His eyes beg for a second chance, but she walks past him, her heart shattered yet resolute. As he watches her disappear, both are left drowning in the pain of what could have been, bound forever by the love they lost.

GENRE: POST BREAKUP, REMINISCING OLD TIMES, HEARTBREAK, SAD LOVE, REGRET, ANGST

A/n: Another heartbreaking one since i love sad fanfiction :))

The autumn chill clung to the air, scattering golden leaves across the streets of Seoul. Y/N tightened her scarf around her neck, her steps slow and deliberate as she wandered through the places they had once shared. It had been months since the breakup, but the memories still lingered, sharp and unforgiving.

Every corner of the city seemed to remind her of him—of Hwang In-Ho.

The coffee shop on the corner where she used to wait for him after his long shifts. She could still hear his tired laugh, see the way he brushed his hair back with that lopsided smile.

The park bench beneath the ginkgo tree where they had spent lazy afternoons, her head resting on his shoulder while he read aloud from books she’d picked out for him.

The quiet bookstore where they had spent hours flipping through novels, laughing over the absurdity of titles neither of them intended to buy.

Each step felt heavier than the last. She hadn’t come here to torment herself, or so she told herself. But these places were pieces of her, of them, and she wasn’t ready to let them go completely.

Finally, she stopped in front of a small alley lit by strings of fairy lights. The faint hum of music and laughter spilled out from the cozy bar at its end—their bar.

It was here he had laughed so freely, his deep chuckle warming her heart. It was here he had held her hand so tightly, as though she were the only thing grounding him. It was here he had kissed her for the first time, his hands trembling as they cupped her face, the world around them blurring into nothing but him.

"'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night..."

The lyrics played softly in her mind, the ache in her chest matching the sorrowful melody. She closed her eyes, letting the memory wash over her before taking a deep breath and turning to leave.

And then she saw him.

Hwang In-Ho.

He stood a few steps away, leaning against a streetlamp at the edge of the alley. His dark coat framed him like a shadow, his hands buried in his pockets. His eyes, however, burned with recognition and longing.

For a moment, the world stopped. Her heart seized in her chest, and the months of pain and separation collapsed into a single instant.

They had once been everything to each other. He had been her home, her anchor. She had been his light in the dark. But now, there was only silence, only distance.

He took a hesitant step forward as if to speak, his lips parting to say her name.

But she didn’t stop.

Without a word, she adjusted her scarf, straightened her shoulders, and walked past him as though he were a stranger.

Every step felt like a knife twisting in her chest, but she refused to look back. She had given him her everything—her love, her trust, her heart. He had left her in pieces, and now all she could do was protect what little remained.

---

In-Ho watched her walk away, his breath caught in his throat, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

She was as beautiful as he remembered, but there was a distance to her now—a wall he had built between them when he let her go.

He hadn’t come here by accident. Maybe some part of him had hoped to find her, to revisit the places where their love had once burned so brightly. But seeing her now, he was struck by the depth of his own regret.

Every memory came flooding back: her laugh, the way she teased him, the way she’d hold his hand as though she’d never let go. She had made him believe, if only for a moment, that he was worth saving. And yet, he had pushed her away.

He told himself it had been for her own good. His life had always been messy, dangerous—a darkness he didn’t want to pull her into. But now, as he watched her fade into the distance, he realized just how wrong he had been.

Her eyes had met his for only a moment, and he thought she might say something—his name, a goodbye, anything. But she hadn’t. She had walked past him, her gaze fixed forward as though he no longer existed.

He wanted to call out to her, to beg her to stop, to tell her he still loved her. But the words caught in his throat, weighted down by the guilt and sorrow of his choices.

As her figure disappeared into the night, In-Ho felt the hollow ache of his regret consume him. He had made his choice, and now she had made hers.

But even as the echoes of her footsteps faded, one thought remained:

He would remember her, and what they had, all too well.

A/n: so how was it, i hope it was to ur likinggg ^_^ and yes there will be more angsty romances (since its my fav)

Tags: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @warlabels

[youleftmenochoicebut]

NATIONAL ANTHEM.

pairing. — husband!hwang in-ho x wife!reader

summary. — you always cherish the times your husband is home, and not away dozens of miles away from you, overseeing deadly games.

warnings. — smut (eating pussy), fluff, prolly ooc, its bad.

a/n. — yes, i too, caught the squid game brainrot. i try to work on the requests! schools been kicking my ass tho, sorry. this is too short and def not proofread!

you love when he wakes you up like this. his hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into him, lips crashing into yours the second your eyes open and he knows you’re awake.

he hasn’t been sleeping for almost an hour, watching your chest raise and fall with a steady rhythm of your breathing, the expression on your face changing in your sweets dreams.

and so, when you roll onto him, you hook your arms around his neck, pulling away quickly. “morning breath. ew.” you whisper, a sleepy smile forming on your face as you look down at him. he’s always so composed, even around you, and still it’s the softer side of him, the one only you see (and the one his family once saw).

he knows how much you hate the smell, and he nods, getting out of bed with you in his arms without a problem, and the way he’s still so fit in his mid fourties always makes you sigh. you, only in your twenties, could barely go a day without complaining of back pain or leg pain, or generally any pain.

he carries you to the bathroom, letting you drop onto your feet when you’re in front of the sink, and you stare at your reflection in the mirror. the both of you brush your teeth, and then he’s pulling you out to the kitchen. you sit down on the stool while he makes you a coffee first, handing it to you with a low hum before moving to make a cup for himself.

“any work today?” you mutter after you take a sip of your nectar of gods, a content sigh escaping your lips, your eyes set on In-ho. he shakes his head, leaning his hip against the counter, holding his mug.

“only making my wife the happiest person on earth.” cheeky bastard. for a man who tends to be closed off even with you, you have to admit he’s smooth. it makes you smile, how only the corners of his lips raise, and you set your coffee down in front of you.

“where the hell did you learn to be so charming, huh? damn sweet-talker.” you huff, rolling your eyes playfully as he approaches you, settling his coffee next to yours. he puts his hands against the counter, on either sides of your body, trapping you in a close embrace.

“i’m a natural charmer, darling.” his smile widens, and it actually looks like a proper smile now, as he leans in. before you can react, his hands are on your waist, swiftly picking you up for you to be perched up on the edge of the kitchen island, and you rest back on your elbows.

coming back to your thought from earlier, you’re always amazed at how much stamina your man has.

“you know, i don’t think that’s gonna count as a proper meal.” you chuckle, looking down at him as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your legs and you kick them off once they’re at your ankles. he prompts your legs open with a single pat to your thigh and you oblige right away, spreading them just for your husband.

“still, it’s my favorite.” In-ho mutters quietly, taking a deep breath in when he brings his head to your bare pussy, as if the scent is what he’d want to breathe for the rest of his life.

“don’t tease.” you chuckle, and you feel his nose nudge your clit, a shiver running down your spine. you tangle your fingers into his hair, trying to tug him closer, but he lets out a tshk sound. his hands force your legs over his shoulders, and after a moment of silent contentment, he puts his lips on you.

it makes you arch your back the second he does, even if it’s just a kiss over your pussy lips. he backs away slightly, planting more and more soft kisses over the insides of your thighs, his fingers now grazing on your hips in soothing circles.

“shh… shh. you gotta be a good girl for me, remember?” his voice is a murmur against your skin, and soon his lips go back to your cunt. you only nod, your eyes meeting once he starts sucking on your clit. it’s light, the sensation barely there, and you pull at his hair again. a chuckle leaves him, the vibration against your sensitive bud making your pussy clench around nothing. it truly feels degrading, knowing how much power he holds over your body that a feeling like that brings out a reaction like this.

once he finally stops teasing you and really begins to lap at your intimate part, you moan, the sound low and breathy. you know it won’t be nice now. he spits onto his palm, then his finger pushes inside you soon enough. that one finger stretches you out good, almost painfully, from how thick and calloused it is. he has your body and its’ reactions memorized by now, and so he adds a second finger when the first one is soaked in your juices.

“i love that look on you.” In-ho’s fingers speed up the pace, sliding in and out of you faster, crossing over inside you and curling to hit that spongy spot that makes you tremble. you only glance down at him, watching him through half-lidded eyes, moans and whimpers escaping your mouth more regularly. the man works wonders on you, lips focused on your clit, fingers ruthlessly driving into you with a fastened rhythm. it’s not long until you’re seeing stars, your fingers in his hair drawing him in against your cunt even more to stop him from pulling back, and your climax hits you hard. you’re a panting, dazed out mess as your husband helps you ride out your orgasm, only pulling away when the shaking of your legs subsides, licking his fingers clean of your essence. you let out a heavy sigh as you sit up, unable to form a coherent thought.

“i’m not done with you yet.” your man wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest, rubbing your lower back gently. “we have a new armchair i think needs a proper… trying out.”

[pursued-by-the-squid]

come back to me

pairing: hwang in-ho (oh young-il) x reader

notes: this was originally part of a larger fic i was working on, but it ended up not fitting into the story. i won't be expanding on it any further, but it was such a sweet little moment that i wanted to share it with all the other in-ho simps 💕

“Young-il, wait.”

His mouth tilts into a frown, but he relents. He waits, watching expectantly as you reach for him, and when you finally pull him by the shoulder, he doesn’t fight you. You wrap one arm around his neck and embrace him – a real embrace, the kind you’ve spent an eternity longing for. It’s more uncomfortable than you would’ve hoped for with the gun caught between your bodies, but it’s still him, still real, still everything you need.

Your mouth brushes over his collar and all of a sudden, you’re blinking back tears and trying to find the courage you had only moments before. As real as this embrace is, the moment it lives within is even more-so. Your time is limited. You’re not ready. You have to let him go, but you don’t want to, you can’t, not after you just watched Gi-hun walk away, leaving you unsure if you would ever see him again. You can’t lose Young-il too.

“Come back to me,” you whisper. “Please.”

Your fingers curl in the hair at his nape, and Young-il withdraws, and you think he’s going to push you away and that will be the end of it all, but he doesn’t. He hefts the gun-strap further up his shoulder, then drops his hand to take one of yours, the one still grasping at his arm. He twists your interlocked fingers until your palm is exposed and then – oh God, and then he’s leaning down to press his lips to the swell just above your wrist. Dark eyes flash beneath thick, dark brows, and you think that if this weren’t a matter of life and death, he might give you so much more than just a stolen kiss in the moments between insurrection and despair.

“Be careful,” he says, and you nod seriously in response when your words fail you.

[leia-writes]

not sure if you’ve wrote this before but Frontmanxfem reader maybe she’s like nervous for him to go down on her and he reassures her🥹

Movement

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: movement by hozier

note: thanks for your request!! I'm so happy to finally be writing again. more to come with season 2 out!

warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY

word count: 2,998

posted on: 1/4/2025

“Fuck!” you exclaimed under your breath, elevator doors closing in front of you. You pressed the button to your floor and impatiently waited for the elevator to take you to your residence. As soon as the doors opened, you ripped your mask off and stormed down the hallway.

You passed the main living room, furnished with two leather chairs facing a large screen and a table with a half drunk glass of whiskey on it. Another mask like yours laid neatly on the table next to the glass. You hurled yours across the room in a fit of rage.

Storming into the nearby kitchen, you saw In-ho pouring a glass of your favorite wine.

“I hope that’s for me,” you sighed as you approached In-ho.

He gave you a sympathetic look and handed you the glass. “I heard what happened.”

You finished the glass off in a few seconds, slamming it down on the counter. In-ho approached your hunched over figure but you stood straight again, pointing at him.

“I could kill them all. Every last one of them,” you seethed. 

He knew exactly who you were talking about, and gave you a soft, pitying look. “I know, I know you could. You’d be really good at it too.” He caressed your cheek as he praised you, a playful smirk flashing across his face for a moment.

You huffed, rolling your eyes but softening at his affection. “I’m fucking serious. I’m done with these pretentious assholes.”

Before you joined In-ho in your shared residence that evening, you’d spent your entire day with the VIPs. Handling impossible requests and battling egos was the most insufferable part of your job. You’d run around so much that day trying to appease every demand that you could’ve probably traversed every inch of the island in the same amount of time. 

In-ho spent the day in Seoul, working with the recruiter to find the next batch of players, and was therefore spared from dealing with the VIPs. Your muscles ached with fatigue and jealousy.

In-ho embraced you, stroking your hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure you don’t see them for a while, alright?” You sighed heavily in response, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his warm torso.

He smiled as you melted into his touch. “My poor darling. Let me make you feel better.”

He swiftly picked you up and carried you to one of the leather chairs in the main room, setting you down gently in front of him. Before you could register what was happening, his lips were on yours, distracting you from the tension that wracked your body and mind.

In-ho leaned over you, pressing your back to the chair. You gently pulled away. “In-ho, I-”

He gently pressed a finger over your mouth, caressing your cheek. “Shh, just let me take care of you now, alright?” 

You sighed as he dipped his head down to kiss your neck, your skin becoming flushed and warm. He brought a hand down your side, gently starting to coax your shirt upwards. 

You knew exactly what he was after - you’d done this for him more times than you could count. The job you two held was a difficult one, and you had no problem being an outlet of stress relief for each other. 

He brought his hands to your pants, carefully undoing the buttons and lowering the zipper, before slowly dipping his hand into your underwear. He released himself from your neck and looked at you, gauging your reactions.

You leaned forward and kissed him hard as his hand dipped into your warm core, soaking his fingers as he explored you. He groaned at the warm wetness on his fingers. You sighed, desperate for more, but a confused feeling of embarrassment was starting to cloud your lustful thoughts.

He brought his hand from your core to his mouth, obscenely tasting your juices on his fingers. He groaned, a sound that would’ve normally made you feral but instead made you feel vulnerable. You felt your breath catch in your throat, unsure of how to react.

He roughly grasped the waist of your pants and began pulling them down before you grabbed his hand to stop them. He immediately looked at you with concern.

Your face flushed red with embarrassment. “I… I’m, uh…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, not that, I just… I…” You internally slapped yourself for sounding so stupid.

He playfully smirked at you. “You know I’ve seen it, right? There’s no need to be so bashful.”

You scoffed. Of course you’d known that. You’d had sex with him many times before, that was nothing new. But having his fingers on you, and the thought of having his face down there, made you more self-conscious than you knew how to deal with. In the past, you’d redirect his attention elsewhere quickly to avoid dealing with the imaginary shame you might feel.

And that’s exactly what you planned to do now.

“I know… I’m just too tense right now. I’m sorry.” You started pulling your pants back up, looking down in guilt.

He quickly tilted your face towards him, giving you a concerned look and caressing your face. “It’s alright, darling. You don’t have to be sorry.” He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Do you want to take a hot bath?”

“Yes."

~~~

After taking your relaxing hot bath and washing the day’s stress away, you climbed into your shared bed with In-ho. You already felt a million times better. In-ho was immersed in a book he was reading, but wrapped his arm around you when you climbed into bed next to him.

“Are you feeling better?”

You gave him a happy, dazed smile. “Very much so.”

He smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead, diverting his attention back to his book. You grabbed the one you were currently reading and began to do the same next to him.

After a short while of getting comfortable in bed, your thoughts began to wander as you read. You thought about In-ho touching you before, how good it felt and sounded to you. The overwhelming embarrassment and anxiety you felt at the time was now closer to a distant memory. You felt much more comfortable in your body, more intrigued than embarrassed about the thought of In-ho’s mouth on you. 

You felt the familiar flush in your skin again and set your book down. Warmth was spreading throughout your body but you weren’t sure how to express what you wanted, so you snuggled up to In-ho, resting your arm on his chest.

He glanced at you as he read. “Getting tired?”

“No, you’re just so warm.” A believable lie.

He smiled and continued to read, oblivious to the dirty thoughts starting to cloud your mind. You wanted him bad. How was he not able to read your mind and know exactly what you wanted at that moment? You glanced at him quickly and started playing with the hem of his shirt, hoping he’d get some sort of hint from your mixed signals.

In-ho eyed your hands on his shirt and set his book down. “What are you thinking about, darling?” He had a naughty glint in his eye, suspecting he knew what you might be after.

At the first glance from him, your newfound confidence faltered. “Nothing. Just laying here with you.” You feigned innocence - but he knew better.

He turned his body towards you, your hand unintentionally slipping underneath his shirt. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope. Nothing.” You began to gently caress his warm skin, avoiding eye contact.

He gently sighed at your touch. “Hm. You don’t want anything?”

You gave him a pleading look but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything except for a quiet hum.

He leaned forward to kiss you, gently, before slightly pulling back, testing how much you wanted. You quickly leaned forward to return his kiss, deeper and more needy, twisting the hem of his shirt in your hands.

He sighed and pushed you on your back, slightly hovering over you as he deepened the kiss even further. After a few moments, he pulled back, observing your beautifully flushed face.

“Do you want me to make you feel better? Like before?”

Your breath hitched again, and all you could muster was a small nod, silently begging for his lips to be on yours again.

He crashed his lips into yours, kissing you more fervently now, and positioned himself completely above you. Your fingers found their way into his hair, gently tugging, eliciting delicious, soft moans from his throat. It drove you insane.

You wanted so badly for him to feel good, for him to enjoy every second with you, it was hard to understand how he’d want to solely focus on you and your pleasure. You know he’d do anything for you… but your own self-doubt clouded your mind in these moments.

As if he knew what you were thinking, In-ho pulled away and looked at you with a fierce intention. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “But… you have before.”

“Not like this. Not like I’ve wanted to. Not like you deserve.” 

He gently rubbed your cheek, hoping you could feel the sincerity in his words. It felt like your heart was in your throat, you could barely express how he made you feel in that moment. Your eyebrows furrowed and you leaned towards him for a harsh, needy kiss before guiding his hand to your underwear.

Without any pants on, he swiftly pulled your underwear down, leaning back in front of your raised knees as he pulled the blanket off. He placed his hands on your legs to spread them, but the sudden exposure made you feel vulnerable and hesitant for a moment, and you froze.

You let out a pitiful moan, your body conflicted on what to do. In-ho gently caressed your legs and leaned forward, giving you a sweet kiss. 

“Let me make you feel better.” He echoed from before.

You silently nodded and spread your legs, and In-ho quickly settled his head in between them. He gently kissed around your inner thigh, taking his time on each side, intentionally avoiding your wet, aching core. Although you couldn’t ignore the involuntary waves of self-consciousness, you focused on the anticipation rising throughout your body, your need for his mouth to be on you.

In-ho’s mouth hovered over your core, the sensation of his hot breath on you driving you crazy. You squirmed beneath him as he placed a firm arm over your stomach.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he instructed. He paused for a moment, as if waiting for your permission. 

The moment you looked down at him, he placed his mouth on you, his tongue flat on your core, gently sucking. 

The sudden wave of pleasure immediately wracked your body. You threw your head back with a surprised moan, your hands instantly grabbing at the sheets. 

In-ho groaned loudly in satisfaction, as if he’d been hungry for you his whole life and just now, finally, got a taste. You felt his groan through your sensitive clit, making your hips twitch under his movements. He continued to work his tongue over your clit and your aching entrance, tasting every inch of you, relishing in your gasps and moans.

You felt possessed, unable to control your sounds and movements as he all but consumed you. His hands grasped at your sides, your thighs, anything he could get his hands on. You felt yourself relax into this position and spread your legs further, wanting more and more of him.

He kept his mouth on you as he splayed his hands on the back of your thighs, pressing them down, following your lead and spreading you out even further for him. You looked down again at him ravenously devouring you, the sight of it almost undoing you.

You cried out in pleasure, starting to twitch and grind beneath him, feeling like your release could come at any moment now. You’d never felt like it had been this easy before. In-ho briefly stopped to look at you, a slight, satisfied grin on his face.

“You’re doing so well. Do you feel good, darling?”

You let out a soft cry. “Yes.” You gave him a needy, pleading look. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

The thought of it made you clench, you could barely make out words. “Mhm.”

His head was spinning with those obscene sounds you were making. “Good. I want you to cum on my face, okay?”

You cried out in pleasure and frustration, and pushed his head back on you, gripping his hair for dear life. He groaned at your unrelenting neediness, just egging you on even further to the edge.

You felt your body chasing release, pressing In-ho’s face to your aching cunt, grinding beneath him, using him solely for your pleasure. His incessant moans seemed to vibrate throughout your entire being, setting your skin on fire, bringing tears to your eyes.

With a few more swipes of his tongue, you came absolutely undone beneath him.

You felt a white hot wave of pleasure explode from your core, your muscles involuntarily shaking, and you cried out in pleasure and pure emotional release. Tears flowed down your face as you allowed the pleasure to take over, allowed yourself to feel good. In-ho diligently kept his mouth on you as you rode out your orgasm.

As you slowly came to consciousness, In-ho leaned back and watched you, all of you. You wiped the tears from your eyes and watched him in a daze. He was completely enamored by you, his hands wandering from your thighs to your core, spreading his fingers over your sensitive clit and your aching entrance.

You suddenly felt… empty. Quietly whimpering, you grabbed his wrist, keeping his fingers on you, silently begging for more. He gave you a bewildered look.

“Did that feel good?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You pressed his fingers further towards your entrance.

His eyes darkened. “Hm. Do you want more, darling?”

You nodded again. Even though you felt spent from your orgasm, you couldn’t deny the aching need to feel him inside you.

“So needy, hm? You can’t get enough, is that right? Need something to fill you up too?”

You looked away and groaned, a mixture of embarrassment and desire swirling in your mind. 

“Please,” you whispered.

In-ho slowly moved to hover over you, gently turning your head towards him.

“Tell me what you want.”

You whimpered, kissing him and reaching for the prominent bulge in his underwear. You could feel his cock straining against the fabric. In-ho groaned above you, his cock painfully aching to feel you.

He let out a harsh breath through his teeth. “Fuck… do you feel what you’ve done to me?”

You continued to massage him, feel him twitch under your fingers, his moans becoming more reckless every second. You felt all your senses go on edge again, responding to every single sound he made. He quickly swatted your hand away and pulled his underwear down.

“If you keep doing that I won’t last much longer,” he breathed out, his voice hoarse and primal. He quickly lined his cock with your entrance and thrusted into you, your hips meeting his thrust and your warmth enveloping him completely.

He stopped for a second, too overwhelmed to move. You were so deliciously warm, your flesh so sensitive from before. The feeling of his cock stretching you made a wave of pleasure sink into your body and you couldn’t help but let out a feral moan.

In-ho leaned himself further over you, pressing your legs up, and began to pound into you relentlessly. You grabbed at his arms and shoulders, any part of him you could hold onto as he fucked you through the bed. He was relentless in his movements, completely focused on the pleasure building between the two of you.

He roughly grabbed your jaw. “Fuck… I could’ve come undone just watching you before.”

You cried out beneath him, clenching on his cock as he fucked you with a determined pace.

He continued. “That pretty fucking pussy, clenching and gushing just for me… you loved it, didn’t you?”

You moaned and nodded.

“That’s right,” he huffed. “My pretty fucking girl loves to cum on my face, doesn’t she?”

His words send shockwaves throughout your body, and you could only cry out and continue nodding.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his pace quickening. You could tell he was close.

“Fuck. And you’re gonna cum on my cock now, aren’t you?”

You squeezed your eyes. “Yes, fuck, yes I’m going to right now I-”

You felt the familiar wave of pleasure crash over your entire body again, your walls clenching on In-ho’s cock as he stuttered in his pace. You cried out, feeling In-ho release himself inside of you with a loud, guttural groan. He thrusted into you slowly, chasing any remnants of pleasure for both of you as you both calmed down. You held each other close, heavy breaths slowing into satisfied sighs. 

In-ho laid down next to you and pulled you to him, kissing the side of your face and brushing his fingers through your hair. Your entire body felt exhausted, but not like before. 

In-ho leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Are you alright now?”

You sleepily nodded. “Yes. Very much so.”

He smiled, satisfied, and rested his head near yours. As he stroked your head, he whispered.

“You know I would do anything for you, right?”

You gave him a concerned look. “Of course.”

He looked at you fiercely. “So don’t be afraid to ask for what you want.”

You sighed, almost pouting. After a few moments, you nodded. “Okay.”

He smiled, pulling you close and the blanket over you two, both of you quickly falling into a satisfied slumber.

[dyingswanpavlova]

Treasure

Pairing: Hwang In-ho/The Frontman × Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 25, In-ho is 54), Usage of Daddy, Mentions of Emotional Abuse in the Past, Low Self-Esteem, Sex as a Business Deal, Edging, Spanking, Overstimulation, Face Slapping, Oral Sex (Both receiving), Gagging, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Minors do not interact!

Author's note: It's mostly bad experiences and smut. Anyone who knows me, knows I can't do wholesome...But, you guys, I'm trying!

It has been quite a while since his wife died and he hasn't gotten over it. But now he found someone who brings out a softer side of him...or makes him feel anything at all. Even if it's just the fact that he doesn't have to dine and sleep alone.

The day of her death was always the worst.

Of course he was always cold. One might even muster up the courage to call it cruel.

He was a complicated man in any sense of the word. While he was as cunning as he was handsome, he was also cool and composed. He didn’t ever lose that tight composure, until he allowed himself to. There were only few situations that allowed him to let loose and unleash the beast that lived within him.

It was rather obvious that there was more to him. The way he carried himself made it seem like he was no more than the stoic business man, but sometimes, sometimes you caught a soft glimpse of whatever was underneath. The way his eyes shone in a certain light.

 His brother was enough.

His wife, of course.

 But you were clever. And your sense of self-preservation forbade you to pry. All you had to do was do your job. And what was your job?

You found yourself applying a drop of perfume to your neck and your wrists, staring at your form in the mirror. The black lace covered most of your intimate parts, but it was just enough to leave him yearning for more. He liked that especially – when he had to use his imagination.

But sometimes, on rare occasions like that night, he needed more. He needed a little, naughty dream, to distract him from the turmoil that raged within him.

He was never cruel to you. He was just cold.

It wasn’t like you minded. So far, you had heard all kinds of things from a few friends of yours. Men could be vile creatures, who performed the most heinous crimes, whenever they felt like it. You were sure you could call yourself lucky, when it came to that.

He was older, that was out of question. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not for you anyway.

You couldn’t tell when that started or what the exact reason was.

Your father had been a fairly good man. He never abused you and never hurt you out of the ordinary. The occasional session of spanking was something that stopped once you got older. Of course a child that steps out of line will get punished. It’s not that dramatic and you were sure, you took no damage after that.

He had been a kind man. Good-hearted. He loved you, your sister and your mother very much.

Until he got drunk.

Of course, he loved you then as well. And he never hit you then, either. Not you.

Your mother, sure. The poor, sweet woman she was. Her broken spirit cracked through the light in which her soul was covered, because she was strong like that. Gentle, but strong.

He wasn’t gentle when he drank. No, all you had to do was say the wrong thing at the wrong time and suddenly he’d explode. The way he yelled out of nowhere was the worst thing. The way he gritted his teeth like a wild animal.

You had flinched more than once during the course of your life, simply because he got so angry.

But after a while, he always calmed down, didn’t he? He came down from his demonic horror trip and suddenly, he was good again.

Of course he was proud. Too proud for anyone’s good. His pride often kept him from apologizing. In most cases, he’d just try and act like nothing changed, like nothing happened, like he didn’t just made the walls crumble with his anger.

But sometimes, when he went really overboard, he managed to swallow his pride and then he would apologize. A hug, a kiss, and everything was back to normal.

You forgave him. Why wouldn’t you? He was your father. He loved you.

But daddy issues? No. He was there, after all. He didn’t abuse you. Didn’t hit you.

You had no issues. Why would you?

Right?

You finished applying the perfume and decided to put on some lip balm. It held the faintest hint of rose-color. He didn’t like too much make-up. He didn’t like anything that felt like you were playing dress-up. The silk on your body, it only made sense if it highlighted your character in a way. Not change it.

The gloss on your lips, the blush on your cheeks. No eyeshadow allowed, unless it were natural colors. Mascara was alright, but no fake lashes.

Blush was okay, contour was not.

Lace was okay, leather was not.

J’adore was okay, Chanel Number 5 was not.

You released a slow breath and took a moment longer to check your appearance.

You were pretty, you knew that. Probably not in the way that made you get voted prom queen. More in the way that made weird men ogle you.

That was a talent of yours you had figured out at some point. Your eyes were expressive. And people loved to eye-fuck you.

Sometimes, you’d indulge. It depended on the man and the situation. It depended on the way his eyes on you made you feel.

Not any man would do. Some were perverts, some were disgusting, some desperate. You didn’t look back, when a man walked beside his oblivious wife and looked at you like he was ready to devour you. You also didn’t look back, when a man stared at you with wide eyes and licked his lip in a way that was too lecherous at once.

A subtle glance.

Not even a smile.

Just a look.

You’d look away and after a while, you’d check again. The feeling that spread in your chest was often the same. One of recognition, of attention. It made you feel pretty and desired. Someone wanted you. They were subtle about it, but not subtle enough to refrain themselves from staring.

In most cases, it didn’t lead to anything.

Sure, you had that messed-up phase, after you turned nineteen. Looking back, you really wished your father had been stricter with you. You were always allowed to do whatever you wanted. Meet who you want, do what you want, unless, of course, it got dark outside. No walking alone in the dark.

But he never checked who you were with, if you were truly where you said you were. Your parents trusted you. Back in the day, when you told them you had already finished your homework, they trusted you. Your bad grades weren’t their fault. They had trusted you to do better.

Back when you were nineteen, when you told them you were at the cinema with a few friends, they trusted you. They didn’t check, if maybe you were getting pounded away by some forty-seven year old man, who came on your face and left you feeling used and humiliated.

Never during. Always after.

You had no idea why you felt like you needed this so badly. Attention of men. Approval of men.

Men.

They were never good to you. They used you in most cases and then they’d just up and leave.

First, you were naïve. You pictured all kinds of things. Your mother’s Italian friend, who’d take you to Rome and buy you gelato. You’d walk some coast and he’d show you the lovely way Italians lived. He’d love you, you were sure.

It didn’t matter than he had a daughter your age or maybe even a few years older.

He’d love you.

But of course, he didn’t. Silly you, you really believed that, didn’t you? And he didn’t even say he would. You just made up that version of him in your head.

Some sweet guy from Oregon, who sang Arctic Monkeys song for you with his guitar. You only spoke online, but why care? You’d go and live the American dream with him. Of course you would. He had those soft, brown eyes and the voice of an angel.

You’d give him as many babies as he wanted.

So, of course you agreed, when he asked you to take your top off. Suck on your fingers, look up at the camera with doe eyes, while you did. You slipped two fingers inside yourself, moaning and gasping. Of course you were pretending. Who got off on this? Not you. All he did was stare at you. You didn’t see his face, while he pulled his pants down. It was either his face or the rest of him. But you were looking at him, while you touched yourself for him. It didn’t take him long to cum. But that was alright. You’d get married, after all. In some cases, long distance worked. This was one of them of course.

Blocked.

You spent months trying to find him again. But no way. He was gone, deleted, lost in the depths of the internet. A lost memory. A shameful one.

Sometimes you asked yourself, why your sister turned out normal. She had a job, a family, a husband who loved her. Or did he?

He did get angry, at times. And those few times when he called her a slut, when they argued. It wasn’t that bad, right?

That one time he left her standing at the sidewalk in the middle of the night, in a foreign city. It wasn’t that bad, right? She had angered him after all.

You felt nauseous, just thinking about it. Your sister was the epitome of life and liveliness. She was so spirited, that sometimes her anger scared you. Her confidence did for sure. She was your father’s daughter after all.

But the bastard she married broke that spirit.

And she didn’t even realize it. She just let it happen. You didn’t understand it.

But what you did understand was that she wasn’t as perfect as you always thought. Things were a little more complicated than you initially thought. But you were still far behind her.

You tried to push the thoughts of your messed-up existence and upbringing aside and focus on the task at hand.

Him.

Mr. Important.

You knew his real name and he knew yours, but names didn’t really matter. All you normally called him was daddy.

But luckily, you weren’t babygirl or little girl. That felt odd, even to you. It wasn’t that he was after that – someone who was remarkably younger than him. You just happened to be.

He was fifty-four, going fifty-five. You were twenty-five, going twenty-six.

Thirty years more or less, who cared about that?

And he didn’t really look his age. You found, he looked a good forty-six, maybe.

But aside from that, he was different. The were two kind of men in the world.

The real ones and the made up ones.

The ones who ogled you, while they were walking beside their wives and the ones who never got over their wife’s death and were looking for a way to distract themselves.

You had seen a picture of her. He didn’t make a secret of it. No, he was proud to having loved her. The thought filled you with something bittersweet. A part of you was jealous. Jealous, that someone got loved so intensely, that she’d never be forgotten, ever.

After all, she died young and pregnant. It made you nauseous.

And another part of you, the far bigger part, the less selfish part, it admired him.

He loved her. He loved her so dearly, that she took a great part of his soul with him, when she left.

God, you wished to be loved like that. To be loved at all.

You remembered the way you first met him. The subtle eye-contact. No smile.

But you didn’t feel like you normally did. Something about him was different. He wasn’t lecherous. He was calm. Almost like he was…lonely.

And he understood your loneliness.

The arrangement came quick and without any fuss. He did pay you, but not with money per say. He paid for your studies, he bought you gifts, sometimes he took you out to places you had never been before.

The theatre. The ballet. The opera, even.

That was what you loved the most. He didn’t just use you and left you feeling empty. He didn’t even fuck you every time you saw him. Sometimes you’d just go out. Have dinner. Talk.

You talked a lot and about everything. Sometimes you felt like you were an old soul, sometimes you felt like you knew nothing at all. He knew things. He looked at you. He listened to you.

Sometimes he could be really funny. On other nights he was rather quiet.

You didn’t care if he absentmindedly played with your hand or hair or if he stared straight ahead. Whatever he did, it always made your heart race.

You understood that you were treading on very thin ice.

Feelings were not a part of the arrangement.

He would never love you. You would never be more to him than treasure.

But when you lay there, your head on his chest and still breathless after you just spent hours doing the most wicked things to each other, you couldn’t help yourself. You craved his warmth. His arms around you and how protected he made you feel.

You couldn’t make a mistake. Nothing you did ever made him yell at you.

And that was rather dangerous.

Because you could picture it so easily. Being his wife. His everything. Having his children. Cooking his dinner. Doing all the things loving people did.

All the things loved people did.

You pushed the thought aside with intense fervor, when you heard his raspy voice call out for you.

“Treasure? Are you alright?”

You nearly gasped when you realized how long you had been in there. With a soft shake of your head and a slow exhale, you pushed down the door handle and stepped out of the bathroom. He stood in front of the fireplace and stared down at the flames, lost in thought. When he heard the door open, he looked up and met your gaze. Something in him stiffened for a moment and his gaze ran down your body slowly. You swallowed thickly and tried to push your nervousness aside.

You wanted to be perfect for him. But you were so far from perfect. Each and every time you feared he would look at you, scoff and shake his head.

“I don’t remember that much skin.”

“You looked younger last time.”

“Where’d that wrinkle come from?”

But of course he never said anything like that. Simply your insecurities, giving you a hard time.

He hummed softly and shifted so that he was fully facing you.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured. “Come here.”

You approached him with slow steps, the sound of your tiptoes the only sound beside the crackling of the fireplace.

You came to a halt before him and he tipped your chin up in a gentle way, slowly tilting your head up and making you look at him. He brushed his lips over yours in the softest way, making you shiver in response.

His hand slowly ran down the side of your neck, until his fingers brushed over the lace that covered your collarbone. His eyes followed the movement and he released a soft sigh.

“You get more and more beautiful every day.”

How did he expect you not to fall in love with him, when he was being like this?

“Thank you.” You whispered in return and swallowed a bit of your nervousness.

His eyes crinkled in a smile that hardly reached his eyes and his hands slowly came down to grip your hips.

“You know what day today is?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He whispered and dropped his hands to his sides. “Then be a good girl for daddy and distract him.”

You licked your lips and slowly pushed him back. He was letting you. Until you reached the armchair and he slowly sat down on it. You stood before him and tipped his chin up, making him look up at you now. The look in his eyes was nothing short of admiration. His breath against your skin sent a pleasant tingle down your spine.

You slowly straddled his lap and rested your knees on the armrests, pressing yourself against him and feeling the hardness in his pants press into you already. But not yet, you thought. Why not tease him a little?

You leaned in as if to kiss him, but the second before your lips met, you slowly pulled your head back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A low growl grumbled in his chest. “Stop being a brat.” He murmured.

You bit your lip and leaned back with a grin. “Me? A brat?”

“You’re just asking to be punished.”

That made you chuckle. “Well…”

“Oh, I see.” He tangled a hand in your hair and tugged on it, tilting your head back and making you look up at him. “That’s how you want to play?” He murmured and his hot breath fanned over your lips and neck. “Alright, then. I invented this game, little dove.”

He released his grip on your hair and grabbed you by the hips, standing up and holding you against him. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and strode off to the bed, practically throwing you down onto it. The sudden intensity left you breathless and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He reached for his tie and slowly undid it.

“I thought you were daddy’s good girl. Looks like I was wrong.”

He sounded as calm as ever, not a hint of anger as usual. He was just being himself.

“I am your good girl.”

“I’d prefer you to be bad right now. Because I feel like punishing you.”

You swallowed thickly and bit your lip, like you did every so often when he got you cornered like this.

“How?” You whispered.

He smirked in that delicious way, which lit his whole face up without even trying. Then he slowly pulled the tie off and ran his fingers along the soft material.

“Turn around.”

Within seconds, you were on your knees and facing away from him. His hands were gentle as he reached for your wrists and brought them behind your back to tie them together. You took a slow breath and closed your eyes, while your body surrendered. It wasn’t hard for you. You trusted him. He knew your boundaries.

For whatever reason, with him you had boundaries.

Never in your life before had you ever told anyone to stop or not do something. Was it fear of being rejected? Simply fear? Something else? Whatever it was, it kept you from setting healthy rules to keep your body and mind safe. You were free to use. Anyone just did whatever they wanted.

Sometimes you did protest, but they wouldn’t stop and eventually you gave in.

But not so him.

He had asked not once, not twice, but countless times. Until eventually you had been forced to be honest and tell him what it was that threw you off. And to your surprise, he didn’t get angry, didn’t even move a muscle. He just nodded and accepted it.

There were a few freaky things you were into and you were obviously allowing him to do. But if there was something that you didn’t want, he didn’t do it. Just like that.

How hard it was not to fall for him. Impossible even.

He tied your wrists together fairly tight and made a point of pulling on the tie to make sure it was good enough. You felt his gaze roam along your back silently. He then ran his fingertips up your back, over your shoulder blades and eventually the back of your neck.

“You’re my little brat, aren’t you?” He purred.

When you didn’t respond at first, he made a point of gently tugging on your hair.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“And you’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

When you nodded, he tugged again, slightly harder this time. You gasped and immediately added: “Yes. Yes, I’ve been bad.”

“So, you deserve to be punished. How should I punish you?”

There was only one right answer to that.

“However you wish.”

You heard the way he smirked. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

He hummed and slowly circled you like a predator. Of course you felt rather exposed, kneeling on the bed like that, wearing nothing but that thin piece of lace and nothing to cover the dampness between your legs.

“Look at you.” He murmured. “So open and ready for me. Let’s see how ready, shall we?”

He didn’t hesitate to slide his hand between your legs and run a finger over your wetness. You couldn’t help but inhale sharply. Your body was aching for his touch.

Surprisingly, he knew how to make you cum. Pretty good even. No other man had ever accomplished that. You’d normally count only on yourself for that, but Mr. Important? Fuck, he was skilled.

He circled your clit in the same skilled way, causing you to squirm and gasp under his touch. He began to work his fingers on you more and more quickly, keeping his gaze firmly on your face. Your brows furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, but you didn’t care. You were so close. So close. So-

You whimpered when he sharply withdrew his hand, leaving you aching.

“Please-“ You whined.

“Not yet.” He said calmly. “Open your mouth.”

You obeyed wordlessly, allowing him to slide his slick fingers into your mouth and making you taste yourself on him. The bulge in his pants became more and more obvious and it did things to you. The way he looked at you, while he made you suck on his fingers was enough to make you go dripping wet. After a beat, he slowly pulled his fingers back and dried them against his shirt. You let out a shuddering gasp.

“You still ought to be punished, if I recall correctly.”

“Wasn’t this punishment enough?” You whispered.

He smirked. “Not even close.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently draped you over his lap, stomach down and your rear up in the air. Your cheek was pressed against the sheets and you closed your eyes.

“Ten. You know the rules.” He murmured and you nodded.

His flat hand cracked against your skin, sending a sharp pain through your body. He wasn’t gentle about that. Not at all.

You cried out in pain and tried not to squirm too much. “One. Thank you, daddy.” You gasped out.

He hummed approvingly, before his hand came down a second time, causing you to wince and cry out again. Somehow, every strike seemed to get more and more rough. Your skin felt raw and sensitive, more and more with every hit, but you forced yourself to stay still and count, like a good girl. By the time you reached the seventh hit, the pain was nearly unbearable. But you knew better than to beg and plead. It only turned him on more and he was ready and eager to start anew.

“Nine. Thank you, daddy.”

“One more. Just one more, treasure. You’re almost done.”

He deliberately waited for a few seconds, causing you to go rigid and tense in his grip. The uncertainty of when the next hit would follow was nearly killing you. Just when you expected it and you winced forcefully, he instead ran his palm along your red skin gently. You took a deep breath.

And then it came.

The most painful of them all and you immediately felt tears sting your eyes. Your voice cracked as you cried out: “T-ten. Ten. Thank you. Thank you, daddy.”

He made a soft sound, filled with approval and a hint of pride. “That’s my good girl. You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

His words made you feel warm and fuzzy and suddenly you felt like crying even more. Your feelings for him were more complicated than you thought.

“Thank you.” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath.

“I think you deserve a reward.” He murmured.

You tried to swallow, with your mouth dry and whispered: “I do?”

He ran a gentle hand over your hair and hummed again.

“You do. Let’s see what we can do for you.” He shifted you gently so you lay on the mattress instead, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He ran his knuckles over your cheek and smiled slowly.

“Was it too much?”

You shook your head.

He took a slow breath and nodded. “Good.” He shifted so he was on top of you now and pressed a leg between your own. His knee slowly pressed against your core and you felt your eyes fall shut. You didn’t try to hide your pathetic whimper.

He smirked against your ear and gently nipped at it. “Look at that. Have you been this wet all the time?”

Your face flushed painfully and you swallowed your embarrassment. “Yes.”

He hummed approvingly and ran his lips along your cheek, before they finally met your own. You had no time to understand what was going on, when his tongue already parted your lips and delved into your mouth. He wasn’t sweet about it, instead your tongues met in a messy battle, ready to prod at and devour each other.

“What are you?” He groaned against your lips.

“Your cumslut.” You whispered back.

He groaned again and bit down on your lower lip. “Fuck, yes, my dirty little cumslut. You want daddy’s cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.” You moaned out.

“Where do you want it, treasure? Dripping down your chin or deep inside you?”

Your eyes nearly rolled back. “Wherever you want.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your neck. His kisses made you squirm and shudder, but it only ever got more and more intense. You felt so exposed and helpless, but also cared for.

He slowly moved his lips along your collarbone, before they brushed over the material that covered your breasts. He bit down on it and tore at until you felt the cold air hit your now exposed chest. He growled in response and didn’t hesitate to kiss and suck at the skin of your breast. Your hips involuntarily arched against his knee, which was still working on your core. You gasped breathlessly and rubbed yourself against him, desperate for more friction.

“Please-“

“Patience.”

He licked a wet path down your stomach, causing you to writhe and moan.

He wasn’t one for half things. When his lips reached your core, he wasn’t gentle or careful. No, his mouth enveloped your most sensitive spot and he began to work his tongue on you almost furiously. He sucked and licked, slid his tongue inside you and over your wet folds with an intensity that made you cry out. He then sucked on your clit in a way that was almost too much, but just right to make you cum so good that you felt like everything around you faded into nothingness. You felt warm and good, better than you had ever before. He took his time and made the moment last, riding out your release so intensely that you nearly had to pull away from him when it became to much. He smirked up at you and slowly came back up to face you. He was fighting for air, as were you.

“Oh God, that was-“

He pushed his tongue back inside your mouth, nearly fucking it. At the same time he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them torturously and pumping them against you in a way that brought you close yet again.

“P-Please, I- Ah!” Your release rolled over you again, hard and soft at the same time, with an intensity that was near painful. Your hips arched off the bed and you nearly screamed by the way you couldn’t find it in you to shut your mouth.

You gasped for air and expected him to finally pull back, but he didn’t. He kept curling his fingers against your sweet spot and the feeling quickly became too much. Your body was so sensitive and every new touch he added felt almost painful.

“Stop- Please- St-“ You cried out and pressed your hips against his hand involuntarily. Your release came crashing yet again, this time it was a feeling between heaven and hell. It still felt good, but it felt far too much.

“Please.” You gasped, before the feeling even was gone. “Please. I can’t take any more…”

He smirked against your lips and gently bit down on the lower one, before he slowly withdrew his hand.

“Good girl.”

You were still panting and gasping for air, when he gave your cheek a light slap. “Time for you to get to work.”

You moaned, and with some effort, fought your way to get up. Your hands were still tied, so you carefully slid down to your knees, kneeling in between his legs. He was still in his pants, so you looked up at him with innocent eyes and whispered: “Can you help me?”

He smirked again and gently cupped your cheek in his hand. “So obedient.”

He freed himself from his remaining clothes and you found yourself staring at him. Despite his age, he was so well-built and you were always desperate for every glimpse, every touch and every taste.

“Can I?” You breathed out.

He hummed and nodded. “Get to it.”

Your gaze wandered down, but he quickly caught your chin. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Your insides tingled with newfound desire. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, while your tongue slowly slid down his stomach. You saw the shift in demeanor. He was still dominant and calm, but his breathing sped up and something changed in his eyes.

“No teasing today.” He all but growled. “Let me feel that pretty mouth.”

You didn’t hesitate to obey. You parted your lips and ran your tongue over his tip. His head fell and back and he groaned. He then tangled his hand in your hair and guided your movements. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, he just pushed you down and forced you to take him in. You were caught off-guard for a moment and felt yourself gag. He loosened his grip the tiniest bit and you began to move in the rhythm and pace that he set for you. He quickly went from calm and collected to a beast which rammed his thick cock into you and began to use your throat to his pleasure.

You felt yourself grow wet yet again as you moaned against his skin. Whenever he seemed to hit the back of your throat, he couldn’t control the low moans and groans that left his lips. Your movements became more and more frantic, determined to make him feel just as good as he had you.

Of course you wanted him to fuck you and he probably would in an hour or two. And again and again and again…But right then, you wanted nothing more than for him to shoot his hot load into your mouth and down your throat.

You sucked and flicked your tongue against him in a way that made his grip tighten more and more until he-

He went still, except for his cock, which was throbbing furiously inside you. He came with a low growl and he filled your mouth with his seed. He held your head in place, until he rode out his release. When he finally caught his breath back, he released a soft sigh and his grip on your hair became gentle again.

“Oh God, that was…” He sighed again. “Fuck.”

You slowly swallowed every drop of his cum, all the while never taking your eyes off him. His eyes instantly darkened again and he ran his thumb over your tongue.

“My good girl. My treasure.” He breathed out. “I’m so proud of you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. It became increasingly gentle and he slowly cupped your cheek in his hand.

“That was incredible.” He murmured. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He reached behind you and carefully freed your from his tie. Then he slowly rubbed his thumbs over your sore wrists.

“Does it hurt?” He murmured. You shook your head.

He pulled you up onto the bed again and gently laid you down beside him. He stared down at you for a long moment, before he finally rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a full-course meal right now.”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him, slowly running your hands down his back. “Isn’t that what you just gave me?”

He smirked and slowly opened his eyes. “You and that wicked mouth of yours.” He murmured.

Your smile softened when he pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“Can I stay for the night?”

He would most likely let you. He never sent you away feeling used or unsatisfied or, God forbid, unwanted. But there was a part of you that needed to be reassured so badly. And he seemed to know.

He raised a brow and his own expression softened.

“Did you expect anything else?”

His coldness melted away whenever you were like this, entangled and breathless.

No matter how many times he said that it didn’t mean anything.

His eyes told a different story.

“No.” You whispered softly and rested your head on his chest. “No, of course not.”

[filthygalli]

I have a fic idea…

Yoo Man-Soo (Lee Byung-Hun’s character in No Other Choice) he’s a murderer right? When someone took the job position he applied for or something, so…I’m thinking he’s applying for a job position and his competitor is you.

Instead of killing you, he kidnapped you and does things to you…

Like he just had that thought, he doesn’t want to kill you (yet) like any other men he met as his job competitor, it’s a what if of his—not until he saw how easy you are, how easy for you to get manipulated—that’s where he got his chance to get his hands on you.

And you have No Other Choice but to let him do that to you, because your life is on the line.

[nosyp]

Twisted Desires

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N = Contains spoilers, read at your own discretion. Don't blame me if you learn smt before watching season 2 <3 (also yes im reusing pics)

Warning = Smut🔞, Murder, Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Captivity, Isolation

Pairing = Front man (Hwang In-ho/Player 001) x reader

Summary = You found out your boyfriend, In-ho, joined the squid game. As you watched the game unfold, you can’t help but feel the growing tension between you two, especially as the stakes get higher and your bond grows darker.

Word count = 2.1k words

There was no. fucking. way.

Your boyfriend, Hwang In-ho and frontman, actually joined the game. You watched intently as he walked through the gap between the two groups of people. One was on the ‘O’ side and the other on the ‘X’ side. He was the last to vote since he was player 001. The voting went from the last player to the first. 

He paused at the table, eyes moving back and forth from the two buttons in front of him. The silence was intense, heavy. Then, his hand moves to the red button… what the fuck? No, actually… he didn’t press it yet. He halts, his hand still in the air. You can see his head turning to the blue button… and he presses it, making the count bump up an extra one. Of course he did. 

At the end of the vote, the ‘O’ side won, which means that the game will continue. The opposing side looked clearly frustrated. I mean, you couldn’t blame them. This game costs their lives if anything. 

Soon, the speaker announces: “The lights will go out in… 3… 2… 1”

Then, the lights shut down, darkness consuming the room. The screen showed the room with heat detection, you could now only see red silhouettes of the figures. Carefully, you inspected the figures and spotted a familiar one moving. The door to the room suddenly opened and the figure passed through the threshold. 

Not long after, you suddenly got a call on the corded phone. The ringing of the phone echoed through the room. You hesitated to pick it up, carefully locking eyes onto the device. Your hand grazed the keypad of the phone, and you picked it up.

“Hello?” you ask the other voice.

“[Name],” his voice crackles through the phone, low and cold. “Are you watching?”

You can hear the slight rustling on the other end, but it’s not enough to make sense of what’s happening. The silence starts again before he continues, “I need you to stay quiet. Don’t try anything funny.”

You can feel your heartbeat picking up pace as you strain to hear any background noise. The weight of his words presses on you. “I’ll be with you again. Soon.”

You knew the man was crazy, but you hadn’t expected something like this… or maybe you did. He often spoke about ‘joining for fun’. There was nothing fun about the whole thing though.

“I don’t think I can really go anywhere,” you respond, still able to hear the rustling in the background.

“Good.” he says before hanging up. The phone call closed with a long beep. 

This bitch somehow managed to find a way to dictate your life, despite being trapped in a game surrounded with many other people. Honestly, he’d probably find some other way if he couldn’t call you. 

The next few days, you watched as he blended into the crowd of players and played his own game. Surprisingly, but also unsurprisingly, he managed to survive game after game. Though, he probably wouldn’t have died even if he lost. The fear of the other players, the chaos, the high stakes, it unnerved you. 

The worst part about it was his calm, cold demeanor only grew more unsettling as he navigated the games with ease. There was no doubt in your mind that he was doing this for his own amusement, but you couldn’t tell what his goal was. Was he playing to win, or was he just having fun with the entire ordeal? Either way, it made you sick.

Every day, you were forced to watch from the sidelines, your mind consumed with thoughts of what might happen to him… or to you. You still hadn’t heard from him since that last phone call, but you could feel his presence in every corner of this twisted game. His control over you, over everything, was absolute. The way he operated, making sure his every move was calculated, was nothing short of terrifying. He was always somehow one step ahead, he could always predict future movements with precise accuracy.

He hadn’t just entered the game to survive, you swore he had entered it to manipulate it. You could only wonder what his true intentions were as you waited, trapped in this nightmare. Every moment you spent here, unable to escape, only added to the sickening realization that no matter what happened, you were always going to be his pawn. A toy in his little game.

The door suddenly clicked open, and in came two of the triangle-masked men. They hadn’t said anything and just stood near the door. 

“What do you want?” you ask, shattering the silence of the room.

“Boss asked us to ensure your safety ma’am,” one of the men replied.

“I don’t need your fucking protection. How many times do I have to say that?” you spat fiercely. You didn’t even know if they were enjoying the torment with the boss or just doing their job. You’d probably guess the latter but the choice of workers this year was… very peculiar. Most of the people were nut-jobs, taking up weird & dangerous jobs prior to joining the ‘squid game’. 

“Boss insists,” the other states, like you didn’t know.

You roll your eyes at the response and just sent them a deathly glare. “I honestly never wanted this… and I highly doubt you wanted it either,”

Silence followed, none of them responded. 

—

It was supposedly nearing the end of the whole operation and it started to get interesting. Seong Gi-Hun, or player 456, had hatched a plan to attract the guards and when they got close enough, he would attack. The others, including your boyfriend, joined the plan.

The fight was already brutal. A purple-haired guy was already brutally stabbed to death by a fork and so many of the other players met the same fate as well. Blood was splattered all over the walls and floors, you couldn’t even imagine how long the cleaning’ll take. 

The situation started to escalate as it turned into a gun-war. The masked group was obviously having the upper hand, they had more manpower and resources. Honestly, you admired Gi-hun’s bravery. He probably knew this was a high risk mission, the whole thing would have some amount of sacrifices.

One-by-one, they took down the masked men and it seemed like they actually had a chance. But you knew In-ho probably wouldn’t let that happen. And as you expected, he took down the two men with him. It didn’t take him long to flee the scene and go back to hiding behind the scene.

The door opened, and in came the infamous leader.

“So… you’ve had your fun… what now?” you speak up, interrogating him.

He pauses, stops in his place, you can see it from the reflection on the screen. His gaze flickers to you, he was still in his green outfit with blood all over him. “Hmmm… I need to go back to being the front man,”

You turn your head towards him, giving him a small smile, not of gratitude or anything though. “You put up quite the show… who knew you could do all that?” you say teasingly.

“You really don’t know me at all, do you honey?” he responds, with just as much tease in his tone as you.

Hearing his tone, you got up from the sofa and grabbed a napkin from the table. One step after the other, you slowly got closer to him and wiped the blood off of him. 

“How sweet of you,” he says. “What changed?”

You stop after hearing the question. It was true, just a second ago you were angry at him. And it all just dissipated in thin air, what is happening to you?

“Nothing, just missed my boyfriend,” you giggle. “You should go change now.”

“I think we have time…” he says, his hand grabbing a hold under your thigh. He lifts it up and wraps his other one around your waist.

“W-what…? For what?” you ask curiously.

“You’ll see,” he says, his lips brushing over yours.

Before you could even process what was happening, In-ho’s grip on you tightened. His hands were firm on your body, pulling you flush against him with a strength that left you breathless. Without a second of hesitation, he crashed his lips onto yours, silencing any protests you might’ve had. The kiss was wild, needy, like he couldn’t get enough of you. And before you even realized it, your legs were wrapped around his waist, holding onto him as though you needed his support.

You felt the weight of his arms around you, supporting you, guiding you, and suddenly, it was all too much. His breath was ragged against your lips as he tugged you closer, the heat of his body mixing with yours.

His touch was possessive, but so tender in the way he gripped your skin. Every second, every movement, was loaded with unspoken words… his desire, his lust, his need for you, but also something darker, a reminder of who he was in this twisted game. Yet, all you could think about in that moment was the pull between you, how his presence seemed to drown out everything else.

You could feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest, syncing with your own, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was no game, no chaos, no twisted rules. This time… it was just him and you.

It was almost dizzying. The way his lips moved with an intensity that left you breathless. You melted into him, giving in to the urgency of the moment, your hands threading into his bloodstained shirt as you pulled him even closer. And just as quickly, he deepened the kiss, a growl vibrating in his chest, pulling a desperate moan from you.

It was messy. It was raw. It was everything that you shouldn’t want, but couldn’t stop yourself from craving more of him.

“Don’t think,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough, just how you like it. “Just feel. Feel me.”

His words fell onto deaf ears as you numbed against his touch, His lips trailed down to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, making your breath hitch in your throat. You clung to him, desperate for more, for any scrap of his attention, but your head was spinning.

“In-ho…” you managed to breathe, barely able to form words, your chest heaving as he kissed his way back up to your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin in that familiar, possessive way.

“Shh,” he whispered, his voice rough with barely contained desire, it was something more than that. He was desperate for you now. His hands roamed every inch of your body, tracing the lines, memorizing every curve as if he needed to own every part of you. “You don’t need to say anything. I know what you want.”

He spoke like he had all the answers, and in that moment, he probably did. The way he held you, the way he moved with such authority, made it impossible to do anything but give in to him. To him and this chaotic, twisted connection you shared. Maybe you weren’t any better than him.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him back to you as your lips crashed together again. It wasn’t gentle this time. The kiss was rough, hungry, full of tension and need. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you in a rhythm that only seemed to escalate the fire burning between you. His breath, hot against your mouth, sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning against his lips.

You felt his smirk before you heard it. “You’re mine, [Name],” he muttered against your lips. His words were a command, a promise, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at the sound.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. “You want me, don’t you? Want me more than anything else right now. Tell me you want me,”

His hands were on you again, pressing you deeper into him, and in that moment, there was no escaping him. No escaping the pull of his dark, twisted affection.

You didn’t answer, not with words, but your body told him everything he needed to know. He hummed in satisfaction and you let him explore you even deeper.

[rimzaaa]

Baby Fever

Oneshot!

Pairing: Hwang Inho x Wife! Reader (y/n)

Summary: Years after falling in love with the cop who once saved her from trouble, Y/N is now happily married to Hwang In-ho — a protective, devoted husband who begins to show signs of something more tender: baby fever. And one soft, late-night conversation that he finally tells her what he really wants — a little piece of her, shared between them.

Warnings: Mature themes (non-explicit) Soft smut (non-graphic intimacy) Established relationship. Age gap (mild, consensual) Discussion of future children. Heavy domestic fluff. Heartwarming vibes with emotional intimacy.

Author's Note: I had this idea in my mind for a long time and finally I wrote it. Also I wanted to show a side of Inho without any trauma and games.

Words Count: 2092

Tag list: Lemme know if you want to get tagged in LBH fics.

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You met Hwang In-ho on one of the worst days of your life.

It was raining. Your voice was shaking. And your hands were cuffed behind your back for something that wasn't even your fault.

A misunderstanding at a street protest. Wrong place, wrong time. The others had run — you hadn’t.

You still remember the way he looked at you as you stood there, soaked and stubborn under the station lights. Not pitying. Not accusing. Just… observing. Calm. Sharp.

He read between the lines of your silence when others didn’t. And when he quietly pulled the report and vouched for you — off the record — something shifted.

It wasn't just about justice for him. It was instinct. Like he knew you didn’t belong in a place like that.

That night, he gave you his umbrella.

Weeks later, you found yourself seeing him again. And again.

A quiet dinner after your hearing. Coffee “accidentally” near his beat. Long walks that didn’t feel like they were with a cop, but a man who made you feel safe just by being near.

He was older. Wiser. Slower to speak but quicker to act when it mattered.

You were brighter than he expected. A little reckless, maybe. But you challenged him in a way that lit something long-forgotten in his chest.

And somehow — over time, over laughter, over quiet glances from across the table — it turned into love.

Then a proposal.

Then a quiet wedding under cherry blossoms, just the two of you and the vows you wrote yourselves.

It’s been three years since then.

And tonight… something’s different.

In-ho stood in the hallway of your shared home, towel slung around his neck after his evening shower. His wet hair dripped onto the collar of his shirt as he looked at the faint light spilling from the bedroom, where you sat curled up with a book — the same way you always did before bed.

But this time, his gaze lingered.

You looked so small in that oversized shirt of his. Legs tucked beneath you. Face calm. Wedding band catching the light as you turned the page.

He swallowed thickly.

Something in him ached.

Not just the usual love. Not just the usual want.

No — this was something deeper. Warmer. Sharper.

Need.

The kind he’d been pushing down for months now. Every time you passed a stroller on the street. Every time your fingers brushed his in the baby aisle at the store and you didn't even notice. Every time he came home and imagined a tiny voice yelling, "Appa!" as the door opened.

And tonight, it had risen so high in his chest he could barely breathe through it.

He walked into the room quietly.

You looked up and smiled, folding the book shut. “You okay?”

In-ho didn’t answer right away. He just sat beside you — close, thigh to thigh — and stared down at your intertwined fingers.

Then, softly…

“I want a baby.”

Y/n blinked.

A baby?

Your throat dried before you could even answer. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him — your husband, the man whose steadiness had saved you more than once, whose strength you leaned on even when you didn’t realize it.

He was looking at you now not with demand, not with pressure… but with something achingly gentle.

A kind of vulnerable hope you’d only seen in him a handful of times before — like when he first told you he loved you. When he asked you to marry him. When he first called your shared apartment home.

“Inho…” you whispered. Your voice broke around his name.

He didn’t look away.

“I know it’s sudden,” he said quietly, thumb brushing over your knuckles, “but I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Every time I see you like this—soft, peaceful—I just…” His voice trailed off, the words heavy in his chest.

“I imagine you holding something ours.”

Your breath caught. Something warm bloomed in your chest and traveled down to your stomach, curling there like a secret flame.

And suddenly—pieces began falling into place.

The way he'd lingered a little too long when that toddler on the street called out for their dad. How he'd always slow his steps if he heard a baby laughing somewhere nearby.

You remembered how, a few weeks ago at the market, he held up a tiny beanie no bigger than his palm, grinning slightly and saying, “This would look cute on someone with your nose.”

You had laughed it off.

But now, every glance, every comment, every quiet gesture... it all made sense.

Even last Sunday — when your neighbors’ little girl stumbled over her jump rope and Inho was the first to kneel down beside her, brushing dirt from her scraped knees with a softness that made your throat tighten.

“You’ve… wanted this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

He didn’t deny it.

“I want us” he said, voice low. “In every way. I want to see you with a baby in your arms. I want to watch you fall asleep on the couch holding our child. I want to know what our love looks like… in someone else’s eyes.”

Your lips parted. No words came out — just a quiet, aching inhale.

Then, as if on instinct, your fingers reached up, brushing through the damp strands at his temple — soft, dark. A sign of years, of depth, of the life you’d built together.

You leaned in and kissed him.

Not urgently. Not hungrily.

But deeply. With full understanding. With something that tasted like yes.

When you pulled back, he studied you.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice hoarse. “You don’t have to—”

“I’ve never seen you look at anything the way you just looked at me when you said that” you interrupted gently, resting your forehead to his. “That’s all the answer I need.”

He exhaled a shaky breath and pressed another kiss to your temple. “You’re everything.”

You smiled softly. “Then make me a mother.”

His eyes darkened just a little.

And in the quiet hum between you, your body tilted instinctively toward his — not just in agreement, but in invitation.

His hand slid along your thigh, calloused palm warm, grounding. “Tonight?” he asked, low and deliberate.

Your voice was a whisper against his jaw.

“Tonight.”

The room dimmed around you, touched only by the quiet gold glow of the lamp on the nightstand. Outside, the soft rustle of trees carried the stillness of evening, but inside—everything pulsed with a silent ache. One you both had buried for far too long.

Inho’s gaze lingered on you as if trying to commit every detail to memory. The curve of your lips. The softness in your eyes. The quiet agreement you’d just given him.

He touched your cheek with the back of his fingers—knuckles dragging softly, reverently.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded once, then leaned in and kissed him. This time slower. Deeper. Less like a question, more like a promise.

His hand slid down the side of your neck, cupping the base of your skull as he pressed himself closer. His other hand brushed over your hip, smoothing over your waist like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you under his palms.

When he pulled back just enough to speak, his breath fanned warm across your lips. “I want to take my time with you tonight.”

You swallowed. “Then take it.”

That was all he needed.

He eased you back onto the sheets, never rushing, never fumbling. Just slow hands and eyes that never left yours, as if this — you — was everything he had ever waited for.

His lips kissed a slow path from your collarbone to your shoulder, hands trailing over your sides, fingers tracing the outline of your ribs like he was memorizing the map of your body. Your breath hitched when he whispered, “You’re so beautiful like this… and you’ll be even more beautiful carrying my child.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets.

He hovered above you, propped on one elbow, the other hand brushing tenderly down your belly.

“We’ll do this together,” he murmured. “Every step.”

His kisses turned deeper. Slower. More lingering. The kind that tasted like devotion. His hands guided yours up, fingers interlacing, pressing them into the pillow above your head as his body settled more fully against yours.

“I want to feel you,” he whispered, voice low and reverent, “closer than I ever have before.”

You arched into him instinctively, breath trembling as you whispered, “Then don’t hold back.”

What followed wasn’t just physical—it was something sacred.

A quiet unraveling of restraint.

Of love.

Of long-held want finally being allowed to breathe.

His movements were unhurried, driven not by urgency but meaning. You felt everything. The press of his body, the weight of his need, the warm brush of his mouth at your temple when he whispered how perfect you felt. How much he loved you. How much he wanted this—you, always you—forever.

And when you cried out softly, body tightening around him, his name barely a breath on your lips—

He murmured, “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

---

The first rays of sunlight stretched softly across the sheets, golden and warm, like fingers slipping through the cracks in the blinds. The air was still, hushed — the kind of quiet that only comes after everything has been said, every promise unspoken but understood.

You stirred first.

Still tucked against him, your leg tangled over his, cheek resting on the warm expanse of his chest that slowly rose and fell beneath you. The sheets were barely draped over your bodies, forgotten in the softness of the night before.

It wasn’t your first time with Inho.

You had made love to him countless times before — in the haze of honeymoon nights, after long days, on lazy Sundays.

But last night was different.

Last night had meaning sewn into every kiss. A future whispered against skin. A deeper kind of ache behind every touch.

It had been tender and slow. Full of more.

You felt it even now, the weight of it in the way his arms were wrapped tightly around you, one hand splayed across your lower back, holding you as if you'd disappear if he let go.

Inho stirred beneath you, voice rasping against your hair. “You’re awake.”

You hummed sleepily, not moving, cheek still resting over his bare chest. “Barely.”

His hand smoothed over your back, tracing gentle circles.

Then, with a tired chuckle, he murmured, “I think I pulled a muscle.”

You laughed into his chest. “That’s what happens when you try to prove a point.”

He tilted his head and looked down at you, eyes warm, face a little puffy from sleep. He was always beautiful, but like this — messy-haired, creased with lines of age and affection, body still humming from the night before — he looked real.

Safe. Yours.

He reached down, pinched at the little softness of his stomach with mock offense. “I need to get back in shape.”

You grinned, nudging his side. “You say that every Monday.”

“I mean it this time,” he said, rolling to pin you gently beneath him, your bodies still warm from shared heat. “Can’t have you thinking I’m getting old.”

You arched an eyebrow playfully. “You are older than me, Inho.”

He smirked, lowering himself just enough for his nose to brush yours. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Then, slowly, he shifted — trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, lingering at your sternum.

And just before you could tease him again, he lowered himself even further — pressing a soft, unhurried kiss to your bare stomach.

His palm settled there, warm and steady.

He looked up at you, lips still resting against your skin. “One day,” he whispered. “Maybe someone with your eyes and my patience.”

You rolled your eyes with a fond smile. “So… a troublemaker with a stubborn streak and a cop’s glare?”

He laughed — a real one, deep and boyish. “Perfect combo.”

You reached down, carding your fingers gently through his hair. “You’d be a good dad.”

He kissed your stomach again, slower this time. “Only because I had you first.”

Your breath caught — just for a moment.

Then he moved up, laying beside you again, pulling you into his chest with a low hum.

“I don’t want to rush,” he added, voice soft near your temple. “But if it ever happens… just know, I’d be ready.”

And you held him tighter.

Because so were you.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Constant

Hwang In-ho x gn Circle Guard! Reader

18+ | very dubious consent | nsfw (nothing explicit) | blowjob | gunplay | blood and death | obsessive behavior | spoiler-free | not proofread

Could theoretically be interpreted as Prequel to -> THIS <- drabble, but can also be read as a standalone story.

It all started on his very first day as Front Man.

As the games officially started there was no swirling of whiskey to jazz music in his huge leather armchair, no macabre figurines whose meaning only he understood, no rigid routine he established in order to not go insane with guilt and grief.

Only his new quarters, wiped clean from any belongings of his predecessor, a book with instructions and you: A random Circle Guard, almost as new to the job as In-ho was to his, assigned to stick in his presence like a shadow and fulfill his every wish.

Merely a year prior, desperation had driven you to accept this ominous job offer, making you personally witnessing Player 132's downfall and moral corruption from behind the scenes. So you were well aware what ruthlessness lied beneathe the perfectly composed, some would even say charming facade.

And now this very same man had you bent over the desk of the monitor room, pink overall down to your ankles and your face forcefully pressed onto the control panel as he pounded into you from behind, almost like attempting to make your moans drown out the sounds of gunshots and screams.

Who knows, maybe it was his twisted way to get accomodated to this profession.

After he was done with you and rationality crept in his disturbed mind again, the way his piercing eyes settled on yours was enough to make you terrified for your life. He seemed so utterly repulsed at the sight of you, sobbing and writhing and begging while still pinned down by his bruising grip.

In-ho's disgust was not directed towards you however, but no one else than himself. He was shocked about what he had become, hell, what his wife would think of him if she was still among the living.

"Get out of my sight" he ordered flatly and you needn't be told twice, yet he emphasized it with an enraged roar. "NOW!"

And yet, of course this self-proclaimed callous man found his rationality be overthrown by darker desires again and again and again.

The second time it happened he demanded to take off your mask, but your fingers hesitated on the fabric. Not because of the cardinal rule to never reveal your face to anyone, but rather fearing the consequence if your appearance was not to his liking.

But then again, who were you to deny him?

Next thing you knew you were on your knees in front of his spread legs, eyes never leaving yours as he made you suck on his loaded gun. He had never wielded one before, never even considered it back when he was still a different person, and yet right then he was eagerly palming his erection through his pants while running the cold metal across your cheek, neck, chest, down to more sensitive areas. He'd observe every minicule reaction and sound you made, until the point where he cannot stand it anymore, balling a fist in your hair as he mouth first shoves you onto his cock, the other hand still holding the pistol to your temple while fucking your throat.

It certainly wouldn't be the last time In-ho would use his weapon for this purpose, putting it on - or even inside - your body.

In-ho never kissed you, never spoke more than necessary and his choice of words were usually sharp like glass. "Strip", "Off with the mask", "Kneel"...no greetings, no goodbyes. Most of the time he wouldn't speak at all, however you prefered him coating himself in silence over the degradations he could come up with when he was especially enraged any time.

Asides from those intermezzos, you were treated very generous, had much freedom and only small occasional tasks. And you had to admit that your boss was an extraordinary skilled lover, always mindful of your body and as indifferent as he appeared, he made sure you were properly tended to afterwards.

That same pattern repeated for years, and while you were grateful to be spared from the cruelty you were well aware he was capable of, your position was a very lonely one.

Because despite his demand that you're to be in his vicinity almost 24/7, the leader would completely disregard your presence except for those intimate moments you shared.

You thought that he was merely using your body for his own, sick entertainment, maybe even as means to let off some steam. Because whenever he made you perform your one and only 'duty', those were the only times this stoic man showed at least a fraction of emotion - even if it was anger by default.

But the truth is he wasn't grounded by ravishing you, no - the opposite was the case. It feels like the life In-ho had rebuilt on the ruins of his old one collapses as soon as he looks into those damn doe eyes of yours.

And it made him furious beyond all reason, because how dare you making him betray his oath to remain loyal to his wife until he'd join her in death, and how dare he forget all of his principles for the sake of a foolish lowlife like you?!

In-ho was long gone, the Front Man was what remained, deeply disturbed fractions of a once good man. And he was supposed to be untouchable, unfeeling, unconscionable.

His sole purpose, the only reason he continued instead of succumbing to hopelessness, was to assure the games took place as fair and humanly as possible, having understood the fact that nothing could stop them from the very beginning.

So he surrendered to his fate of solitude and guilt, not only knowing he was undeserving to have a bond with anyone, but after experiencing such great loss being downright terrified of associating with anyone now that he had become a dangerous criminal.

Nonetheless, with previleges comes jealousy and word spreads fast among such an peculiar blend of people.

One fateful night a group of guards entered your room forcefully, thinking if even their leader treats you like nothing but a whore, he certainly wouldn't mind if they did the same.

You remember them saying that this is all you're here for, good only as a toy to play with until you'd get tossed away when he gets bored or break.

Claimed that you were replacable, a thought you shared with them and In-ho tried to convince himself of...

...and yet he caught himself checking the security footage of your location repeatedly whenever you weren't near him.

So it was no surprise that not even a minute after their intrusion, a loud bang was followed by warm, viscous liquid splattering across your upper body. In the blink of an eye later the man who was straddling your waist dropped dead, a gunshot wound gaping where his eye once was.

The other two men would soon follow him to the afterlife, and what remained was the Front Man towering over your bed, wordlessly handing you a handkerchief that couldn't even wipe a fraction of all the blood from your face. You could feel his intense gaze behind the mask, jaw tight as he scanned your body for any injuries.

You wanted to express your gratitude but were harshly cut off as more guards arrived, getting rid of the corpses that served as an exemple. "I just don't like this scum touching what's mine, that's all."

From then on you were permanently relocated to his quarters.

The changes were subtle and barely noticeable at first.

Starting with the redesign of his interior solely for your comfort, followed by random acts of kindness. Lingering touches any time he was in your proximity, small reminders to rest or drink enough water, mental notes he seemed to make of your habits...

...but first and foremost the fact that he'd stay long after the deed was done, arms wrapped around you like you'd disappear if he ever lets go again.

"Are you content here?"

At this point you've been his personal assistant - if one may even call it this way - for three years, and he never bothered asking before.

You were currently patching him up after he left to chase a spy in the facility and returned with a bullet in his shoulder by no one else than his own brother. He insisted that not a medic or a doctor should treat his wound, but the one person that didn't allow their soul to be corrupted by this damned organization.

"Wha- I-" Your fingers stilled mid-movement, resting on the top of his collarbone as he gently lifted your chin. He wanted to sound reassuring, he really did, but he couldn't shake off that authorative edge to his tone. "Look at me and speak freely."

In-ho doesn't even know what he's expecting, but maybe if you voiced your disdain for him and what he put you through, he'd gather the strenght to let you go. Settle everything and give you a fresh start, a new identity and enough cash to lead a comfortable life.

"Sir, I...I like it here." Quite bashful, you busy yourself with the wound again, gently applying pressure to clean it. His eyes follow your every move, mouth slightly agape in awe at that most unexpected answer.

In-ho was staring holes into your skull, desperate to figure out what's going on inside. And if you weren't giving it your utmost to look away right now, you'd clearly see the inner turmoil in those stony features only you learnt to read over the years.

"I'm glad to be useful to you Sir, no matter how."

How ironic that he remembers this in a moment like this, after having just ended the revolt 456 and his consorts had started earlier.

Initially working with Gi-hun was just means to an end for In-hun, another way to cope with the mountain of corpses that had piled up under his feet over the years and whose faces were haunting him night and day. He wanted to prove a point, if not to player 456 then to himself, convinced that there was no other way but to become the monster that he is today.

Yet instead it ended up being like looking into a mirror, a painful reminder that he always had a choice to die honorably yet he forsake his humanity to become this empty shell of a man instead.

But even if he was to switch sides and try to abolish this system from the inside out, he'd only get exterminated and replaced - by someone most likely worse.

Someone that might bring you in harms way as well.

And no matter how the recent events might have shaken up his beliefs, his affection for you was the one constant that would never change.

"Welcome back, Sir!"

The silence was deafening after he recognized your voice, finding you standing in the hallways with your hands trembling on a machine gun you had never even held before. Circle Guards are usually no soldiers, that's the task of the Triangles, but in emergency situations you were all instructed to serve as reinforcement.

Just like right now, in the midst of Gi-hun's pathetic futile revolt.

The Front Man looked almost comically normal in the green track suit, hair disheveled and covered in the blood of both allies and enemies - who was who he couldn't even tell anymore.

During the games you found yourself rooting for him like he was a normal player, especially since it surprised you to see him so expressive. You didn't know this site about your boss, never dared wanting to know more...

...but now you wished that it wasn't all just an act, that deep down he could find that part of himself again eventually.

Much to your surprise, he didn't seem angry that you all failed to prevent the riot of the players. He never let his anger out on you directly before, but you also wouldn't take any chances after he shot so many of you guards on sight.

In-ho lowered his weapon, feeling sick to his stomach for the first time in ages after having committed so many atrocities made him numb to any violence.

But now he almost shot you, damn it!

Before you could even find your voice again the man practically pounced on you, embracing you in a bear hug that made it hard to breathe.

"S-Sir? I-"

"Are you hurt?" His fingers anxiously dig into the flesh of your sides, face going through several emotions at once as he scanned you for any injuries. "N-no, Sir...thanks to your intervention, I did not have to fight yet."

"Good...good" In-ho utters quite relieved, his grip faltering slightly in relief yet remained possessive on your body. "I need to return...clear up this mess."

"Of course, Sir." You handed him the Front Man mask and he stares at it for a long while, as if looking at someone that had become a stranger. "Please take care, and..." you whisper that part barely audible, "come back to me soon."

Suddenly he yanked away your damned mask, the only barrier separating the two of you right now, and lets his mouth crash over yours like he yearned to do for so long already. In-ho pours all his love into the kiss, tries to convey everything that he couldn't put into words until now, having suppressed and denied himself those feelings out of his own foolishness.

But he wouldn't fail to protect what he loves ever again.

When your lips finally part, In-ho smiles. A genuine, hopeful smile so unfamiliar on him it almost frightened you but mirror it anyways. He places another, more tender kiss on the back of your hand before putting on his robe and mask, disappearing in the maze of hallways eager to return home.

"Just wait for me."

[amoristt]

pretty little thing

「 ✦ hwang in-ho / reader ✦ 」

tags: nsfw MDNI // exhibitionism, edging, unedited pls forgive me a/n: when it is going to be my turn original request (x)

it's hard to breathe. it's hard to even think to breathe anymore, your lungs betraying your bodies innate need to inhale. nerves alight from underneath your skin in tingling and prickly flashes. you're trying to hold back the sultry noises mounting in your chest, you really are, but In-ho's got you essentially powerless to stop them. you even try to close your legs, to jump from his touch, but he's got you held fast and in your place. no where to go except closer and closer to the inevitable.

when you'd joined him in his suite and settled on his lap, it really wasn't for anything other than innocently lounging with your lover. it was his fault, really, that you ended up sprawled over him with your legs dangling over the arm of the armchair and his hand buried between your legs while the other propped you up at the shoulders.

his suit is silky smooth against your naked skin. almost as smooth as his voice as he spoke with a square guard merely feet away from you.

you had entirely expected In-ho to stop when the man had walked in but he didn't. he didn't really react at all, in all honestly. other than actually speeding up the tight circles he was rubbing into your clit, like he wanted you louder, wanted you wetter. wanted you some squirming pretty thing in his lap.

there was no denying the way it worked, too. riveting waves of shame and lust engulfed you, dragged you below the murky waters of sex. you refused to look at the anonymous man, burying your face in In-ho's shoulder to try and at least pretend like this wasn't doing something for you.

but really, it's like the day fighting the night. inescapable. all consuming. you can't stop the way you're soaking his thigh through the fabrics of his pants, nor can you stop the way you try to urge your hips into his touch when he presses just a little harder, a little deeper into you. more than once now you'd been right at the precipice, ready to tumble down into ecstasy, only to suddenly find yourself without as he drew his fingers away.

the first time it had been for shits and giggles. the second time, it was because he loved the way you pleaded with your eyes.

the third was when the guard had knocked at his door and was welcomed in.

you know he's trying to see how far you'd go in front of the man before you. he's driving you crazy, seeing how long it takes to have you stupid and downright dizzy with need. you're almost there, too, starting to allow your outer leg to slide off the arm rest despite the guards presence. it's getting harder to care with every second- but you still do. only enough, though, to keep you hiding your face into In-ho's suit and squirming in his hold.

In-ho's voice is low, steady. the guard matches his tone almost evenly but you can hear it- the way his words take a moment to leave him, his brain struggling to fully process their conversation with the lewd display in front of him.

you twist your fingers in his coat, whining only loud enough for In-ho to hear. "please."

he doesn't even acknowledge you. just continued his conversation with his underling as if this were a casual meeting. you weren't tuned into their chatter, you honestly couldn't give less of a shit, too focused on trying to finally cum. you rock your hips, just barely inching into the feeling, but the movement makes your leg slide off the armrest and suddenly you're completely exposed to the pair of eyes on you. you yip, throwing your leg back and pressing your knees together.

In-ho sighs, pausing his conversation. his arm holding you up shifts, and for a blinding second, you're afraid he's going to stop again and you'd have to resort to begging and pleading like a whore in front of a total stranger. but instead he just knocks your leg back off the arm rest and grants himself more access to your body. bursts of pleasure spark behind your eyes as he fucks you with his fingers, down to the knuckles and curling against your gummy walls. your voice leaves you in pathetic keens. but even with pleasure riveting through you like static electricity, when you can see the guard in the corner of your eye, you're trying to hide in In-ho all over again.

that actually earns you a reaction. he chuckles low and deep in his throat.

"so shy. she's not usually like this." he murmurs in amusement, and you realize that he's not talking to you in shameful terror. your face flames with a fire so hot it could burn.

with one leg hiked up on the arm rest, your other dangling over his lap and your toes barely grazing the cold floor, you can't even try to close your legs. good lord, if you thought your face was hot enough to burn before, this could scorch. you can literally feel the guards eyes on you, swallowing you whole.

you whine again, a high noise lost in the back of your throat as you struggle to have even an ounce of decency. makes you try to throw your leg back up, but In-ho shoves your thigh to stop you.

when you try to cover yourself again, there's a fleeting moment where you actually think you may have annoyed him because suddenly you're being lifted and spun around. he presses your back to his chest with a oof and hooks your legs under the bend of his arm, hikes your knees up, folds you on his lap with your swollen pussy on full display.

the cold air meets your sex and you can't help but cover your own face with your hands when the guard noticeably bristles at the sight before him. his spine straightens, his shoulders square. his hands twitch at his sides.

"that's better." In-ho, resting back in his chair now that he's got you trapped in place, snakes his other arm around you and rubs languid strokes up and down your slit. your head tips back against his chest, your breath escaping you in shaky moans. every time his runs his fingers over your clit you whimper, trying to rock your hips into his touch but finding yourself successfully stuck in place.

their all-business conversation picks back up.

a particularly dirty thought jumps to the forefront of your mind- a seedy little wish that grew limbs like trees throughout your body and only heightened your arousal. the mental image of In-ho fucking you like this, slow and deep, taking what's his.

but then you remember that there's a total stranger standing right there watching you mewl and agonize on his bosses lap. and fuck, even despite the shame, even despite the humiliation of it all, you're dripping down his knuckles. you try to urge him for more, desperate to be filled but he's got a grip so iron that all you can do is uselessly kick your feet and plead.

you're almost there, close enough that you can feel it in your fingers and toes. that simmering pleasure making writhe in his grasp. your thighs are starting to shake, eyes unfocused as you stared at the ceiling overhead. just a little more...

"that's all. you may go."

that beautiful mounting pleasure is gone. His hand motions to the door, allowing the guard to see himself out after their talk. if you could kick him in the head, you would. you wanted to strangle him for letting you get that close again without delivery. you kicked your feet again in protest, tossing your head back and huffing.

the guard nods. you watch him through your fingers and god, you're fucking disappointed that he's leaving. but then In-ho is touching you again and nothing seems to matter anymore. the planets realign, the stars collide. his sinks two fingers into your puffy slit and rests his thumb on your clit, resuming his rhythm of rubbing circles into you. you gasp, you moan, arching against him and curling your toes.

"please, please don't stop." you whimper, eyes half lidded, your chest rising and falling in rapid pants. he slides in a third finger and the stretch is just too good.

with the guard gone, you stop trying to hold back all your lovely little sounds. he hooks his fingers and presses right up against your sweet spot, and you can't help but squeal, grasp onto his biceps as your walls flutter around his fingers. you jump in his arms, gasping, struggling to cope with how good it feels.

you're so lost in the feeling that you barely register when In-ho starts talking again.

"what is it." it's supposed to be a question, but he says it like a demand. you lift your head off his shoulder, eyes cracking open in a haze of lust.

the guard is still there. they'd not made it past the first few steps, lingering. watching. their chest moving in shallow breaths. they seem to struggle to speak, as if snapped from a trance. finally, they manage to answer.

"i am sorry if this is out of line, but... may i watch her until..."

a bold request. the end of his sentence trails off, mesmerized.

In-ho just laughs, presses his lips to your temple and you can feel his smirk. "sounds like they want to watch you cum."

you shudder at the lowness of his tone- fuck, you're so close. you're right there, so much so that you really can't bring yourself to even care that you're being watched anymore. you grip tight to In-ho's arm for purchase with one hand, the other reaching up to tangle itself in his hair with shaking fingers.

"well?" In-ho asks with a honey-sweet tone, dragging his fingers to the edge of your pussy before shoving back in, watching you wiggle and twitch with want.

"yes!" you whimper. anything to cum. anything. "yes, yes, mnn- please, i'm so close-"

"poor thing," In-ho leans back in his seat and you fall into him even further, expose yourself even more. "i suppose i have kept you waiting."

you nod fervently, frantically.

yes, you have, you fucker.

the guard stands ever present and silent, but their hands are making tight fists at their sides. you're affecting them- you can sense it. it spurs you on, makes you decide to let it all go. if they wanted a show, so be it. you toss your head back into In-ho's shoulder once more and sing for them. your pussy is swallowing whatever it can get, greedy and desperate for more.

you legs start to shake again, your orgasm teetering already.

"go ahead. show them how good you feel."

this time, In-ho lets you have it.

and even though you felt it coming, felt the heat of it spreading and coiling within you, it still hits you hard and sudden. hits you with a force so strong it knocks the air from your lungs and you're sent reeling against him, arching your back, toes curling and uncurling as you cried out thank you, thank you, thank you.

if your legs weren't already pressed flush together, you'd have snapped them shut as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. in between your wailing moans and the lewd wetness of your sex soaking his hands, it's a song In-ho's come to love. come to crave.

something he was clearly happy to show off, his little pet so needy and receptive to him.

"that's it. there you go." he purrs in your ear, though it barely reaches you through your swimming ears. you're sure you've soaked his entire lap by now, still riding out the last winds of your orgasm. "such a pretty little thing for me."

he strokes through it you until you're shying away, oversensitive and in need of reprieve. you're still babbling thank you's when he addresses the guard once more.

"satisfied?" In-ho jeers, only prying his eyes off you to look up at his underling for a dismissive moment.

"yes." the guard nods quickly, their voice strained. "thank you, sir."

they scurry out of the room like a roach, but not before lingering on you for a long moment. they take a begrudged step back before turning away entirely, seemingly having to force themselves out of the room, disappearing behind the door before it clicks shut. you melt against In-ho, panting, damn near put to sleep. he pats your thighs and lets you crumble against him, unhooking his arm from your legs. you sprawl over him like an old blanket, used up and spent.

"sorry to have kept you waiting for so long." he breathes, kissing the top of your head. you shrug, breathless.

"s' okay. felt good."

he chuckles again, petting a hand down your hair, over your shoulder, down your side.

"always so patient."

you giggle. "i really wasn't."

"patient enough." he kisses the top of your head again and hums. from the table beside the chair, he plucks a glass half full with dark alcohol and brings it to his lips. the sharp smell of it makes you scrunch your nose as he takes a drink.

you know any moment now you'll be carted off to your bedroom and laid out on the plush mattress, surrounded by only the most exquisite fabrics and pillows, but for now you just enjoy the way he's got his arms wrapped around you.

[squidwriting]

#1: Welcome To The Team

✁ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

⇥ Synopsis After a terrible accident, you had lost your memory. After years of struggling with your identity, a lucky coincidence brought everything back - only to find your life in shambles, and your husband missing.

⇥ Pairing Hwang In-ho x fem!reader

⇥ Warnings Spoilers for Season 1 & 2, angst, violence, graphic descriptions of injuries & death

⇥ A/N: Changed In-ho's backstory (obviously lul) so no spoilers there. :3 Hope you enjoy! 💕

⇥ Masterlist | [#2]

✁ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"Come again..?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Jun-ho's story was as grotesque as it was unbelievable. There was no way to verify if he was telling the truth. On the other hand, Jun-ho has never lied to you. He had been there ever since you woke up from your coma.

"What is it you’re not telling me?" you asked quietly, searching his face with your eyes. You had known him ever since he was a little boy. You knew when he was lying—or hiding something.

"Hyung didn't just participate in the games. He...," Jun-ho swallowed thickly, averting his gaze, "...became a part of it. He's the leader now."

The conversation replayed in your mind as you watched Player 456 talk with the man in question: Player 001, Hwang In-ho. Your husband of almost 20 years.

Jun-ho had obviously opposed your idea of joining the games. But you were too stubborn to listen to him, too stubborn for your own good. That's what In-ho always said anyway. Maybe he was right. Still, you lost almost ten years of your life to amnesia. If there was even the slightest chance for a way back to how things were... you would take it.

Ryu Soo-yeon. That was the name you chose for the registration. The name you had chosen after you left the hospital to start over, away from everything and everyone you knew—well, except for Jun-ho. You attempted to cut ties with him several times, too ashamed to let him in, when you had absolutely refused to see your husband. But Jun-ho was stubborn—even more so than you were.

You pushed the rice around in the tin lazily, thinking about your current situation. Thanks to Player 456, you survived the first game without a scratch. It would probably be wise to stick close to him going forward. Then again, that probably meant you would have to face In-ho sooner or later.

A loud commotion ripped you out of your thoughts. Looking up, you found In-ho confronting two players who were ganging up on a third one. In a matter of seconds, the two bullies were silenced and groaning in pain, rolling on the floor dramatically. You bit your lip, trying not to chuckle. In-ho had always been a savage when dealing with bullies. The room erupted in applause, with him being the center of attention. You looked at him carefully—and found him staring directly at you. His face was like a mask, showing no emotion, betraying no thought of his. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to smile at him quickly, before immediately turning your attention back to your lunch.

Sleep did not come easy to you that night. In-ho had not approached you after the incident—and you thought about what to do when you two would eventually come face to face.

Funnily enough, you never thought about that possibility when you chased down the recruiter to enter this hell. Judging by Jun-ho's report, In-ho was working behind the scenes, observing these so-called "games". Why was he a participant? Did he recognize your name after all? Or was it because of Player 456 who claimed to be there for the second time?

In-ho... You sighed quietly and turned onto your side. It was strange to suddenly remember your life with him before you lost your memory. That day you regained it was like a fever dream, all the emotions and images from years ago flooding your mind - as if they were never gone in the first place. It was scary, knowing that you lost nearly 10 years of your life. How would your life be now, had you not been run over by a truck? Certainly, you would not find yourself in a room with 400 other people literally gambling for your life. "Shit," you whispered angrily, rolling onto your back again, your eyes glued to the ceiling. What had you gotten yourself into? 

The light was almost blinding when the beginning of a new day was announced. Music sounded from the speakers, a melody far too happy and cheerful for a grim place like this. You climbed down from the bed carefully, stretching your limbs a bit. 

"You are... a strange one," a voice behind you said. "Pardon me?" You turned around, tilting your head slightly. The woman grinned, her eyes widening slightly. "Your aura is different from everybody else's. You're not here for the money, are you?" 

Before you could answer, another voice sounded through the speakers, telling all players that the second game was about to begin. As quickly as the woman appeared, she was gone again, leaving you behind confused and slightly startled. 

Your eyes scanned your surroundings, making out a few already familiar faces—including Gi-hun and In-ho. You worked your lip between your teeth, contemplating your next move. It would be unwise to approach them directly. If Jun-ho's report was accurate, In-ho was nothing like the man you used to know anymore. What if he felt threatened by your presence? What if he snapped? 

Using a fake name was only a small part of your act. You had to actually be the woman whose name you were carrying. It was easy when you were still without memories. Now, it was more than complicated. What if you messed up? In-ho was smart, a former high-ranking member of the Police. It would be easy for him to debunk your charade if he wanted to. Damn it, why did he have to pose as one of the players anyway? You cursed quietly. This complicated things to an impossible extent. 

"Hey 371! Come on, let's get going," you heard as you were pushed down the stairs gently. Looking behind you, you saw Player 388 smiling brightly at you. "Right," you nodded, letting him lead you down and outside to follow the guards to the next room. 

"A playground?" you whispered as you took in the scenery around you. "It's as nostalgic as it is morbid." 

Your mumbles remained unheard between the voices of the other ones - and Player 100 who apparently only possessed the ability to scream. The recipient of his ranting was Player 456 again. "That poor guy," you chuckled dryly, shaking your head a bit. 

"Players, welcome to the second game. We will begin shortly." Every time you heard that voice through the speakers, your insides clenched painfully, for it never brought any joy or good news. "This game will be played in teams. Please take the next ten minutes to divide into groups of five."

You cursed quietly. Teams? There was no such thing in this place. Nobody really knew each other, nobody could be trusted; even more so since you still did not know which game you would play this time. How would you ever find good, reliable teammates? What if your teammates let you down and you would all die? What if-

"Hello again," the familiar voice from before spoke to you once more. 388. 

"Hi," you answered with a small smile. "Looking for a team to join?" 

"Uh, no, actually," he stuttered, rubbing his hands nervously, "we have a team, but we need one more member. If you're interested," he lowered his voice slightly, "we have two Marines and the guy who already won the games," he grinned. 

"And...? Who else?" 

"Oh," he answered quickly, "the guy who beat up those other two yesterday."

In-ho. 

Two marines, a former winner, and a former Policeman. That was probably the best team you could find in this place. Without hesitation, you took 388's outstretched hand and followed him to your new team.

The three men looked at you as 388 approached with you in tow. "This is... 371," 388 said proudly, "a... uhm..." "Taekwondo Instructor," you continued the introduction for him.

"Remind me not to mess with you then," a voice, that was still terribly familiar to you, said. You would recognize this voice anytime. Chuckling lightly, you bit your lip and willed yourself to look up at him again. He outstretched his hand to you slowly as he spoke up once more.

"Welcome to the team, 371." 

[badasoneandonly]

𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌 𝘔𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 || 𝘏𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕-𝘏𝘖 × 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘞𝘤: 1,550k

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺:

Your quiet neighbor, Hwang In-ho, secretly obsesses over you, eliminating anyone who gets too close. When you discover his dark secret, you try to escape, but he always finds you. Realizing there's no way out, you surrender to his twisted love, trapped forever.

𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘙𝘌: !𝘠𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙𝘌¡ 𝘐𝘕𝘏𝘖! 𝘖𝘉𝘚𝘌𝘚𝘚𝘐𝘝𝘌¡ 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘓𝘌𝘙, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘌𝘋𝘠, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘚𝘓𝘐𝘊𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘈 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘛𝘞𝘐𝘚𝘛, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘐𝘊 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘎𝘖𝘙𝘌 (𝘚𝘖𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍)

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘺 (𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘮) 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥... I would recommend listening to the music.

You were the kind of person who unknowingly captivated others, drawing them in with your warmth and kindness. Your smile was effortless, your laugh easy to find, and you didn't notice the effect it had on those around you. You were oblivious to the way people gravitated toward you, to the way they lingered longer than necessary in your presence. For you, it was simply normal. People came and went in your life- nothing too significant, nothing out of the ordinary. But for one person, everything about you was extraordinary.

Hwang In-ho, your quiet, reserved neighbor, had been watching you for a long time. You didn't realize it, but he had taken an interest in your life far beyond anything you could have imagined. He memorized your habits, knew when you came and went, what you liked to eat, and who you spent your time with. Most importantly, he made sure to remove anyone who posed even the slightest threat to your attention.

It started small, with little things you wouldn't have thought twice about. Casual conversations in the hallways, brief greetings when you passed each other in the building, nothing out of the ordinary. But over time, you began to notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long, how his voice became slightly deeper whenever he spoke to you. And yet, you didn't think much of it. He was just a neighbor, someone you occasionally spoke with. You didn't know that behind that calm, collected exterior was a man consumed by obsession. It wasn't long before the disappearances started.

At first, you didn't think much of it. Daniel, the friendly coworker who had expressed interest in taking you out for coffee, had suddenly stopped coming to work. You asked your manager about him, but she simply shrugged and told you he'd moved. That was odd, but life went on.

Then it happened again. Jae, the guy who always helped you out at the gym, suddenly wasn't around anymore. You asked about him, but no one had seen him for days. No one could explain where he went. It was strange, but you figured he must've had his reasons.

And then, there was Jinwoo, the cute barista at the cafe you frequented. You'd barely noticed the way his eyes sparkled whenever you came in, or the way he nervously tried to start conversations with you. But when you showed up one evening for your usual order, he wasn't there. A new barista greeted you instead, but when you asked about Jinwoo, the response was the same-he'd quit. Moved away. The same strange feeling cropt Into your chest, but you ignored it. You never saw the pattern. The pieces never fit together.

In-ho, however, saw everything.

He always there, watching from the shadows, ensuring that no one got too close to you. When someone lingered too long or dared to approach you with intentions that weren't pure, he made sure they vanished. He wasn't cruel, no. He was simply protecting you, ensuring that nothing or no one would take you from him.

You never noticed. Not until it was too late.

One evening, you were sitting on your couch, enjoying a quiet night in. The city buzzed outside your window, but inside, all was peaceful. You were so absorbed in your thoughts when there came a knock at the door-sharp, deliberate.

You opened the door to find in-ho standing there, his usual stoic expression in place. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of unease, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. He was your neighbor, after all.

"In-ho? What's up?" you asked, your voice warm as you greeted him.

"I brought you something," he said, his voice steady, almost too calm.

"Oh, you didn't have to," you replied, still not picking up on the subtle tension in the air. You gestured for him to enter, stepping aside.

He held out a small, remarkable box. "Please. Just open it."

You gave him a puzzled glance but took the box anyway. "Alright, let's see what you've got." You sat down at your table and began to unde the ribbon.

But as soon the lid was lifted, the air seemed to freeze.

Inside the box was something you never could have imagined-a severed head, blood still fresh, Its eyes wide open in a frozen expression of terror. You recognized him immediately. It was Jinwoo, the barista.

Your body went cold, your mind struggling to make sense of what you were seeing. The box slipped from your hands, landing with a dull thud on the floor. You staggered backward, your heart pounding in your chest.

"In-ho..." you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering, his expression still as composed as ever.

"I told you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice low, almost tender. "I'll do anything to keep you safe. I can't let anyone else get close to you."

Your mouth went dry, panic rising in your chest. "W-what did you do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"He was a threat," In-ho said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't let him take something that wasn't his to have."

You stumbled back, the room spinning around you. Your mind screamed for you to run, to get away from him. "This is insane! You can't do this, In-ho!"

His expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. "Insane?" he repeated. "What's insane is letting people like him get close to you. You're mine, Y/N. You always were."

The words hit you like a slap to the face, but you couldn't move. His eyes were dark, possessive, and you felt your body freeze as fear took over.

"I don't want to hurt you," he continued, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "But I will do whatever it takes to protect you."

The knife in his hand glinted in the low light, and you realized just how much he meant what he said. "Put it down, In-ho," you whispered, trying to find some way to reason with him. "Please. We can talk about this. Just... just stop."

He looked at the blade in his hand and then back at you. His voice softened, but the edge of control never left. "I can't let you go, Y/N. You're mine. I'll always keep you safe. No one else can have you."

It wasn't until the last word left his lips that you realized how true it was. You weren't just a passing thought to him. You were an obsession. And nothing would ever change that.

You didn't remember how you managed to escape that night. All you could remember was running. Running until your lungs burned and your legs shook. The streets were dark, and you didn't know where you were going. All you knew was that you had to get away from him, from his suffocating presence.

But the thing about in-ho that he was always watching. He would always find you.

A few weeks passed in a blur. You changed your phone number, moved to a new apartment, and tried to put as much distance between yourself and the nightmare you'd narrowly escaped. But it was never enough. In-ho was always just one step behind, and one by one, people in your life began to disappear.

You couldn't outrun him. You couldn't hide. And so, eventually, when you saw him again, standing in front of you with that same calm expression, you knew there was no use fighting. You were trapped in his world now.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice gentle. "I told you, didn't I No one else can have you. Not while I'm alive."

And in that moment, you understood. You couldn't run anymore. There was escape.

"I'll stay with you," you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

In-ho's eyes softened, but there was something cold beneath the tenderness. "You're mine, Y/N. I'll keep you safe. Always."

And just like that, you belonged to him. Forever.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @thatbitchanna27 @endlessfl4mes @sunshiines-stuff @warlabels @icomehereforthefics @totowolfffcheco @m0rtifiedg0th @crystalizia @hwang-inhosb1tch

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵... 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥...