#sangwoo imagine

[frombloodandfire]

Indigo [3]

A woman who tries to escape her past with no hope for the future, ends up on an unknown place playing childhood games to win. A man from her past happens to be there for the exact same reason. Will they escape their haunted pasts? Or they will end up dying in vain?

Warnings: heavy language, violence, depression, death

A/N: Frontman’s wife didn’t have a name so I named her! (flashbacks are written a bit differently!)

3.

The knock at my door startled me, the sound jolting through the quiet chaos of my room. I rushed to answer, the weight of my exhaustion following me to the threshold.

"Girl, you have to stop studying until this hour. Thank God you've got me to look after you!" Yoon-suh stood there, a bag of food in her hands. She gave me a mock scolding look before pushing the bag into mine. "I figured you'd forget to eat, so I brought reinforcements."

I blinked, the unexpected gesture momentarily disarming me. "You really came all this way... for this?"

"Well, not just this." Her voice softened as she stepped inside and sat on the edge of my bed. The air shifted before she even spoke again. "I'm leaving. The day after tomorrow."

The words hit me like a slap. I stared at her, frozen, then slowly sank down beside her. "You what?" My voice cracked with disbelief.

"I'm so sorry, Lyanna. I wanted to tell you earlier, but... everything happened so fast."

"But why?" My chest tightened as frustration bubbled up. "We said we'd spend half the year together before... before anything like this!"

"I know," she said, her tone tinged with guilt. "But there's been a change of plans. Family stuff. I'm heading back to Korea to finish my last year of high school. It's better for me. I miss home so much."

Her hand slid over mine, warm and steady. But I couldn't steady the ache growing in my chest. Yoon-suh wasn't just my best friend; she was my anchor. The first person I trusted. And now she was leaving.

"Don't worry, silly," she said, her voice teasing to lighten the mood. "We've got it all figured out. This time next year, we'll be in Seoul, celebrating your acceptance into university."

"Yeah, if I even pass..." I muttered, looking down at the scuffed floor.

"Shush! I said what I said." She squeezed my hand, her smile radiating pure confidence. "Don't get all melancholic at seventeen. What'll you do when you're thirty-five?"

I laughed—barely.

"Ly, you're the smartest person I know," she said, her tone more serious now. "If they don't pick you, then who will? You're meant for this."

Before I could respond, she pulled me up and wrapped her arms around me in one of her signature hugs. Tight, unshakable, like she could transfer her confidence to me.

"I'll see you in Seoul soon," she whispered, her voice soft but firm.

I clung to her, the words heavy in my throat. "I'll miss you..."

She stepped back and looked at me, her expression full of certainty. "I always miss you when I'm not with you, Ly."

And just like that, she was gone, leaving behind the lingering scent of kimchi stew and the bittersweet warmth of her words.

They were now in the main room, sitting on the cold, hard floor. Silence clung to the air, suffocating and relentless. Most of them were trembling, some crying quietly, holding their knees to their chests like lost children. She sat next to Gi-Hun and the man who had saved him, directly across from Sang-Woo. Since the game ended, no one had spoken; they just stared at the ground, as if looking up would force them to face the reality of their survival.

"Sang-Woo..." Gi-Hun finally broke the silence. "Thank you." He turned to the other man. "You two saved my life..."

Sang-Woo had saved her too, but she didn't say a word. She didn't want to talk to him. At least... not now.

"I'm glad you're alive," answered the man beside Gi-Hun, his voice heavy with sincerity.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the pink-suited soldiers entered the room. Those bastards. The man with the ddakji. She hated them all now. Every single one. If she could, she would kill them, make them feel even a fraction of the terror they had inflicted on her and everyone else.

"Congratulations on making it through the first game," the square-masked soldier said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Here are the results. Out of 456 players, 255 players were eliminated. 201 players have completed the first game."

Gasps echoed across the room. Two hundred and fifty-five people dead... for nothing? For a stupid game? These were human beings with lives, families, dreams. And they were slaughtered during a game?

A woman stumbled to the center of the room and screamed, "Sir! Forgive me! I will pay off my debts no matter what. I will pay back at all costs..." She collapsed to her knees, sobbing. "I have... a child. I haven't even named my baby yet, so I couldn't register the baby's birth. Please, let me live!"

Her cries sparked a chain reaction. Others joined her, begging and pleading with the soldiers for their right to live. Lyanna stood still, watching them, her stomach twisting.

"There must be a misunderstanding," the square-masked man continued, unfazed. "We are not here to harm you or collect your debts. Let me remind you: we are presenting you with an opportunity."

"An opportunity? You call this an opportunity?" a man shouted, his voice filled with rage. "You make us play a children's game, then kill us. How is this an opportunity?"

"We may be in debt, but that doesn't mean we deserve to die!"

"This is just a game," the square soldier explained. "They were eliminated for breaking the rules of the game. As long as you follow the rules, you will safely exit this place with the promised prize money."

Chaos erupted as the players shouted and demanded to leave. Fear and anger swirled in the room like a storm.

She thought about the clauses they'd agreed to before this nightmare began.

"Clause One: A player is not allowed to voluntarily quit the games."

But no one cared. They threatened to call the police, their desperation rising. The square guard fired a shot into the air, silencing the room instantly. Everyone dropped to their knees except for her and Sang-Woo.

"Clause Two," the soldier continued, his voice calm but chilling, "A player who refuses to play will be eliminated."

Yeah, but what about Clause Three? She remembered it clearly.

In the suffocating silence, Sang-Woo's voice rang out. "Clause Three of the consent form: The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Is that correct?" He stepped forward.

Classic Sang-Woo, always paying attention to the rules. She remembered the clause too but said nothing, clinging to the sliver of hope it offered.

"That is correct," the soldier said.

"Then let us take a vote. If the majority wishes to quit, you will have to let us go."

"As you wish," the square soldier agreed. "But before we vote... we will reveal the prize amount from the first game."

A giant piggy bank descended from the ceiling, and stacks of money tumbled into it. Her eyes, along with everyone else's, were drawn upward, watching the bloodstained cash fall like a cruel rain.

"Each player is worth 100 million won," the soldier announced. "A current total of 25.5 billion won has been accumulated in the piggy bank. If you quit the games now, the 25.5 billion won will be sent to the families of the eliminated players—100 million each. However, all of you will return home empty-handed."

Her stomach churned. 25.5 billion. Enough not just to pay off her debts but to leave this wretched country behind. To start fresh somewhere far away.

The begging woman spoke again. "Excuse me, if we make it through all six games... how much do we get?"

"There are 456 players," the soldier said. "The total is 45.6 billion won."

The announcement hung in the air like a spell. The vote began. They brought out a large box with two buttons: green for "Yes" to continue and red for "No" to quit.

The players stepped forward one by one. Gi-Hun voted first: red. No.

Then 453: green. Yes.

The votes came in, one after another. Red was leading until Sang-Woo.

Green. Yes.

Her jaw tightened. What the hell was he thinking? He had invoked Clause Three, given them hope and now he chose money over survival? She wanted to scream at him, but she didn't.

The votes continued. Green started winning. Tensions escalated as players argued and shouted, their desperation consuming them.

Finally, it was her turn. She felt Sang-Woo's eyes on her. She always could. For a moment, she hesitated. This could be her second chance, her escape. Or it could send her straight to her death.

Red. No.

Her vote tied the numbers.

The final vote came down to Player 001, the elderly man. He pressed the red button.

The "No's" had it.

Cheers erupted from those who wanted to leave, but she didn't join them. She stood motionless, her thoughts spiraling. What could her life have been with that money? Gi-Hun shook her arm, snapping her back to reality.

"If the majority of you wish to participate again," the square soldier warned, "we will resume the games. Goodbye, then."

Smoke filled the room before she could process his words. It clawed at her senses, dragging her into unconsciousness.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was half-naked, lying in the middle of a street with an eye mask on. The cold bit into her skin as disorientation clouded her mind.

"Fuck. Can someone untie me?" she groaned, wriggling against the bindings on her wrists.

"Lyanna?"

That voice. From all the people, it had to be him?

"Yes, it's me. Can you reach me?" she asked, her voice edged with frustration.

"Me too, sir, if you can!" came another voice, the man who had saved Gi-Hun earlier.

Sang-Woo freed her first, handing her clothes back with averted eyes, his movements respectful. She dressed quickly as he worked on untying the other man.

Why was he suddenly so considerate? Hours ago, he was ready to gamble with their lives in a death game.

"Sir, where are we?" the other man asked as he rubbed his freed wrists.

Sang-Woo glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. "Yeouido."

"Where exactly is Yeouido?"

"In the center of Seoul," Sang-Woo replied curtly.

"Do you have a phone, sir? Or miss? I want to make one call. Just one."

"Let me..." she offered, fumbling for her phone. She groaned. "Shit, I have no battery. Could my day get any worse?"

Sang-Woo pulled out his phone, but it refused to turn on. Of course.

While Sang-Woo headed into a local store to fix his phone, she and the other man sat near the corner, eating steaming bowls of ramyeon. The food did little to warm the cold knot in her chest.

Sang-Woo gave his phone to the man and he went to the other side of the store to speak. It was just the two of them now, her and Sang-Woo, after years apart. She tried not to look at him, but her resolve wavered. Finally, she glanced his way, only to find him already staring.

They held each other's gaze in silence, unspoken words thick in the air. She broke first, finishing her food in a rush and stepping outside. She couldn't handle it, not after years of trying to bury the past.

But he followed her. He lit a cigarette, the small glow a weak beacon in the dim night. It was their old habit. Whenever life fell apart, they'd share a smoke or ten, inhaling poison like it might cure the ache.

"Thank you, sir." the other man said, bowing politely. "Goodbye to both of you!"

"Wait," Sang-Woo called out, his voice firm. "Do you have money for the bus?"

"Sorry?"

"You said you live in Ansan. You couldn't even pay for the ramyeon. Do you have money for the bus?"

"I don't have money. I'll walk."

"There's no way you can walk all the way there. Forget about it!" she said, reaching for her wallet.

But Sang-Woo was faster. "Wait a bit and then take the bus." He handed the man some cash.

"I can't. I have no money. I can't pay you back."

"I won't ask you to. Just take it."

She stared at Sang-Woo, stunned. The kindness in his gesture reminded her of the man she used to know. The one who always wanted to help, even when he was drowning in his own mess. Why now? Why with a stranger?

"Thank you, sir!"

"I'm not your sir. Stop calling me that..."

"I'm sorry. Thank you."

"Take care." she said quietly as the man walked away, clutching the money like it was salvation.

She turned to Sang-Woo, her steps hesitant.

"You've changed..." he said after a while.

"You haven't," she shot back, a little too sharp.

That made him stop. He turned to face her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Haven't I?"

She met his gaze, refusing to back down. "The Sang-Woo I knew wouldn't have risked his life for money. At least the old one."

"And the Lyanna I knew wouldn't have let herself get in debt." he countered, his voice low.

Her breath hitched. He wasn't wrong, but the words stung anyway. She looked away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check.

"I had no choice," she murmured.

"Neither did I." he stopped talking for a while. They kept walking, the distance between them shrinking with every step. The night air was cool against her skin, but she felt flushed, her chest tight with emotions she couldn't name.

"Where do you live?" he finally asked.

"I didn't move." she answered.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

"I think I remember how to walk now, thanks."

"I'm talking about your safety."

"Why do you care?" She stopped and stared at him, her voice sharp. That question hit him harder than he expected. He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off. "You saved me in the game. And I'm grateful, but why?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Sang-Woo..."

"It's too late for this conversation. Maybe another day..."

"Another day? What another day? In prison? At our funerals? When?"

Her words stabbed at him, and he stopped in his tracks.

"Why are you in debt, Lyanna? You were the most logical person I knew. What were you doing in the games in general?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Fine. Neither do I."

"Always stubborn, aren't you?"

He stopped again and turned to face her. The frustration in his voice gave way to something softer, something more vulnerable. "Seriously? Stubborn? I asked if you wanted help. You don't? That's fine. Let's just go back to our miserable lives. Don't tell me anything about it. It's not like we'll meet again..."

"Yoon-Suh was sick. Very sick. And with a child," she admitted, her tone serious. "In-Ho didn't have the money, and we all searched for a way. One day, he disappeared. We couldn't reach him, and her condition got worse. I panicked and got scammed because I tried to find the moeny to save her. I lost both my best friend and all the money I had. That happened one year after you left."

Sang-Woo felt like the ground had shifted beneath him, his expression unreadable. She was alone. For years, she'd faced loss after loss, with no one to comfort her, no one to share the burden.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Sorry doesn't fix anything, but its my miserable life anyway..."

He hesitated, then reached out, his hand hovering near hers. She stared at it, her breath catching in her throat. "I know," he said. "But it's all I have."

For a moment, she considered pulling away, letting the distance between them grow again. But then her hand moved, almost of its own accord, brushing against his.

It was such a small thing, barely a touch, but it felt like a lifeline.

They stood there in the middle of the empty street, the city lights casting a soft glow around them. Neither of them spoke, the silence between them filled with everything they couldn't say.

"So I guess our paths end here?" he hated the sound of it.

She would curse herself later for asking this but had no choice. She couldn't walk home alone in the dead of night. "Would you... would you mind walking home with me?"

And that's what they did. The two of them retraced a familiar path, the same one they'd walked together so many times, fifteen years ago.

The city lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows. They didn't speak again, the silence between them filled with memories and regret. Sang-Woo carried the weight of changing her true colors ever since he left her, how he failed her, while she clung to the dreams she'd never have.

As they approached her building, she paused, turning to face him. "Thanks for walking me home," she said, her voice quieter now.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Anytime."

She hesitated, then reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Sang-Woo... I mean it. Thank you."

He looked down at her hand, then back up at her, his eyes dark and searching. "Take care of yourself, Lyanna."

"You too," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

As she stepped inside, she glanced back one last time. He was still there, watching her, his figure framed by the dim light of the streetlamp. The weight of her words pressed down on him, heavier than ever, thinking if this was really their last meeting ever, or maybe a second chance for a ruined past.

My father had died. Six days later, the results of my exams came in.

I couldn't get out of bed. My world felt like it had caved in, swallowing every shred of energy I had left. The house was silent, empty, and cold. There was no one to take care of me, no one to take care of the house. But I had to know. This was supposed to be my way out, my one chance to climb out of this suffocating darkness.

With trembling hands, I forced myself up and dragged my feet to the mailbox outside the house. My breath fogged in the cold air, and for a moment, I just stood there, staring at the box as if it were some joke.

Among the condolences and formal letters offering pity, I saw it—a thick envelope, the kind that screamed "good news."

I held it in my hands, my heartbeat racing.

University of Seoul.

I tore it open, barely able to breathe.

I got in.

I fucking got in.

My knees buckled, but I managed to stumble back into the house, clutching the letter like a lifeline. The tears welled up before I could stop them, but I didn't care. My fingers fumbled to pick up the phone, and I dialed the number that had been etched into my heart since I was seven.

"I GOT IN!" I screamed, my voice cracking.

"YOU ACTUALLY DID?" Yoon-Suh's voice erupted from the other end, her excitement spilling over in a flurry of joyous words. "I KNEW you could! Oh my god, Lyanna, I'm so happy for you. I'll finally see you again—I'm so, so proud!"

She was crying. I could hear it in the way her voice wavered, in the way she tried to steady herself.

"Start packing and come here as soon as you can," she continued, her words rushing out as though she couldn't say them fast enough. "You're perfect—your Korean is flawless, you're the perfect student, and now you've got the perfect opportunity. Forget everything there. You'll make a new start. You'll see, you'll fall in love with Seoul."

"I can't even talk—" My voice caught in my throat. "I just—I just wanted to tell you as soon as I read it."

"See you soon, love!" she said, her laughter mixing with her tears, and then the line went dead.

I stood there for a moment, the phone still pressed to my ear, as the reality began to sink in.

I was finally making my dream come true.

University. A new start. Opportunities. Seoul—a city Yoon-Suh had painted in my mind like a living dream since we were children. A language I'd poured myself into learning because I'd wanted to be there, to live there, ever since she came into my life.

But then my gaze fell on the stack of condolence letters I'd left on the table.

And I remembered.

I remembered how much my father had wanted to see me in university. How he had believed in me, supported me. How, in his last days, I had been too busy—too consumed by studying—to be with him.

The letter crumpled in my hands as a sob tore through my chest.

I cried for him, for the loss that would never stop aching. But amid the grief, a small, fragile seed of happiness bloomed.

This dream was his dream too.

And I promised myself I wouldn't let it slip away.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ million dollar man ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ it had been over two weeks since you last heard from cho sang-woo. no calls, no texts, not even the smallest acknowledgment of your existence. the silence weighed on you, growing heavier with every passing day. sang-woo, your long-term boyfriend, the man you had imagined spending the rest of your life with, had seemingly vanished without explanation.

˚ ༘♡ he was everything you had dreamed of, handsome, intelligent, educated. in your eyes, he was near perfect. you had moved to south korea a year and a half ago. the two of you met only a month after your arrival in seoul. you were standing at a convenience store counter, struggling to buy an iced coffee before work. the cashier’s words blurred into a language barrier you couldn’t break through, leaving you flustered and embarrassed.

˚ ༘♡ then there he was. cho sang-woo, with his neatly pressed suit and square-rimmed glasses, stepping in to translate with a calm assurance that immediately put you at ease. he went further and insisted on paying for your coffee, brushing off your protests with a polite smile. “you can pay me back with your number,” he had said, his tone light but his warm gaze unwavering. you gave it to him without hesitation, your heart racing as he walked away with a casual, confident stride that lingered in your mind for days.

˚ ༘♡ what followed was akin to a fantasy. your first few dates were sweet and unassuming, dinners at cozy restaurants, walks through bustling markets, late-night phone calls that stretched into the early hours of the morning. before long, it became more than casual. he wasn’t simply a charming man in a suit, he was someone you trusted, someone you leaned on. yet, as your relationship deepened, so did the flaws.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo treated you well in many ways. he insisted on paying for meals, even when you protested. he offered to help with rent when he noticed you were stressed about expenses. his job at joy investments afforded him a lifestyle of financial stability, one that he willingly extended to you. however, beneath his polished exterior, there was an undeniable distance.

˚ ༘♡ it started small, little things that nagged at you but seemed too insignificant to bring up. his phone was always locked, the screen flashing dark whenever you glanced at it. he would leave suddenly, without warning, offering only vague explanations that never quite satisfied your curiosity. “work,” he would say, brushing off your questions as though they were irrelevant. and no matter how many times you pressed him for the truth, he never admitted anything.

˚ ༘♡ those moments of secrecy chipped away at your trust, leaving an uneasy ache in your chest. you told yourself it was nothing, that you were overthinking. but the fights that erupted when you brought it up told a different story. his calm facade would crack, and he would grow defensive, his words sharp and cutting. “don’t you trust me?” he had asked more than once, the accusation in his tone a slap in the face.

˚ ༘♡ despite the arguments, despite the unanswered questions, you loved him. you loved the way he smoothed a hand down your back when you were upset, the way his voice softened when he called you by name. you loved the rare instances of vulnerability he let slip, the heartfelt glimpses of the man beneath the polished exterior. you loved him enough to forgive, enough to overlook the secrets that cast shadows over your relationship.

˚ ༘♡ as you sat alone in your apartment, staring at your phone with an empty inbox mocking your worry. two weeks of silence was unbearable. the man you loved, the one who had promised to protect you, had left you with nothing but questions and a ache where his presence used to be.

˚ ༘♡ the doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet of your apartment as though it were a sharp blade. it wasn’t merely unusual, it was unsettling. who would come at this hour? you glanced at the clock on the wall, its glowing numbers reminding you that it was well past midnight. your stomach churned uneasily as you stood up, your fatigue from a long shift at the café clinging to you.

˚ ༘♡ working from sunrise to sunset every day had worn you thin, but you had refused sang-woo’s offers to help you financially. he had already done so much, given so generously, and the thought of taking more was crossing a line you couldn’t bring yourself to breach. it would be an abuse of his kindness.

˚ ༘♡ the hallway was dark as you approached the door, your bare feet silent on the cool floor. you hesitated before unlocking it, your hand hovering over the latch. “hello?” you called out cautiously as you cracked it open, peering into the dimly lit corridor.

˚ ༘♡ before you could register what was happening, a hard shove sent the door crashing into you, knocking you backward. you stumbled, barely managing to catch yourself against the wall. your heart leapt into your throat as the figure who had forced their way inside quickly shut the door behind them.

˚ ༘♡ your confusion turned to disbelief as the light from your apartment fell on their face. it was sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ his chest heaved with each labored breath, his shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the collar, his dress pants scuffed and slightly torn. his glasses, the ones you always teased him about for making him look too serious, were nowhere to be seen. instead, his face bore the evidence of recent hardships, bruises, faint scars, and scabbed-over cuts that marred his formerly pristine appearance. even his hands, the ones you’d grown so used to seeing holding a pen or a glass of wine, were scratched and battered.

˚ ༘♡ he looked like he had aged years in the short time he had been gone.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you stammered, your voice unsteady with equal parts confusion and fear, “what the hell are you doing? it’s the middle of the night, and… why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

˚ ༘♡ he opened his mouth as if to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. instead, he leaned against the door, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “i…” he started, his voice hoarse and raw, but he seemed unable to finish.

˚ ༘♡ without warning, he crossed the room in a single stride and pulled you into a tight embrace. his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that felt almost suffocating, his head burying into the crook of your neck as he clung to you.

˚ ༘♡ you stood unmoving, the shock of his sudden appearance warring with the affection of his touch. part of you was relieved beyond words to have him back, while another part was angry. angry at his disappearance, at the unanswered calls and texts, at the fear and doubt he had left you to wrestle with.

˚ ༘♡ “i missed you,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

˚ ༘♡ his words tugged at your heart, but they weren’t enough to quell the storm of questions brewing inside you. “sang-woo,” you said, your voice softer now but still laced with frustration, “what’s going on? where have you been? what happened to you?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer right away, his grip tightening, as though the very act of holding onto you could keep him grounded. his breath was unstable, his chest rising and falling against yours in a way that betrayed the turmoil beneath his silence. the room felt oppressively quiet.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp, desperate for clarity. the sound seemed to jolt him, his body stiffening before he reluctantly pulled back.

˚ ༘♡ his hands were shaking as he reached into his pocket, the movement clumsy and hurried. when he withdrew, he thrust a thick stack of cash into your arms, one hundred million won, neatly bound and unnervingly out of place in your modest apartment. the weight of the money startled you, as you stared at the crisp bills in disbelief.

˚ ༘♡ “listen to me,” he said, his voice shaking but steadfast. “after this, after i take care of everything, i’ll buy us a beautiful home. somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. hold onto this for now.”

˚ ༘♡ you blinked at him, your mind struggling to process the sudden shift, the money heavy in your grasp. “sang-woo,” you said, your tone rising with vexation and confusion, “where did you get this money?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer, his eyes avoiding yours, and that only fueled your frustration. “tell me!” you demanded. “where have you been? do you have any idea what I’ve been through? i thought you left me for another woman or fled the country!”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw clenched, his expression fading as guilt flashed across his face, but he said nothing.

˚ ༘♡ you pressed further, your voice strained with a mix of hurt and fury. “i talked to your mother. she said you haven’t called her in ages! i went to your work. they haven’t seen you in weeks! your friends? same thing. no one knows where you’ve been!” your hands tightened around the cash, your knuckles white as your chest heaved with the distress of your tone. “how could you do this to me? how could you leave without a word, without an explanation?”

˚ ༘♡ his silence hurt more than any words could have. he looked at you, his expression a painful mix of regret and something darker, something you couldn’t place. his lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears began to sting your eyes. “please. i need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll tell you everything soon, i promise, sweetheart,” sang-woo murmured, his voice unsteady, as if it pained him to speak. his hand, calloused and trembling, reached out to rest gently on your cheek, his touch delicate. your heart ached as you met his gaze, those dark, exhausted eyes glistening with unshed tears. it was a look so raw, so unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ “you have to trust me,” he said, his tone soft but pleading. “you have to listen to me. i’ve already given you what you need to cover your expenses.” his hand lingered against your cheek for a monthly moment before falling away, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. “i have urgent legal and business matters to deal with, but once they’re resolved… we’ll have the life we’ve dreamed of. everything we’ve talked about.”

˚ ༘♡ his lips brushed against your forehead, the kiss light but filled with a quiet desperation that made your chest tighten. “nothing could ever keep me from you,” he breathed, the words barely audible. “promise me you’ll do as i ask.”

˚ ༘♡ everything about this felt wrong, the way he avoided your questions, the haunting exhaustion in his voice, the bruises that lined his hands and face. you wanted answers. you wanted to demand he tell you everything right then and there, but the way he looked at you, so broken, so unlike the composed sang-woo you knew, kept you from saying anymore.

˚ ༘♡ uncertainty clouded your mind, nonetheless you nodded, your voice hardly above a whisper. “i promise.”

˚ ༘♡ his shoulders sagged slightly at your answer, the tension in his body loosening, though not entirely disappearing. “good,” he said softly, almost to himself. he was still nervous, his eyes darting toward the door as though expecting someone to burst through at any moment.

˚ ༘♡ “i have to go,” he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. “but i’ll come back. i swear, okay?”

˚ ༘♡ “okay,” you replied, unsure but unwilling to push him further.

˚ ༘♡ he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting, tender kiss that left you yearning for answers. then, without another word, he turned and left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

˚ ༘♡ you stood there, the silence of his absence pressing down on you, dread engulfed your thoughts. your mind churned with questions, with doubts, but one thing was certain, you were relieved, no matter how strange the circumstances of his return, to have seen sang-woo again. the agonizing ache in your chest told you that his departure had left you with far more questions than answers.

a/n: my first sang-woo fanfiction!! is it controversial for me to say i love his character and he’s my favorite one in squid game? please let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

[chuulyssa]

── ★ the one bed trope™ with the squid game men

teaser the guards cleared out too many beds after the last game, assuming there are far fewer survivors than expected. so when your group stumbles into the dormitory, you realize the horrible truth: there’s only one bed for every two players, and your bed is missing!

starring inho gihun (drabbles) & daeho sangwoo ali (hcs) x gn!reader genre fluff fluff all fluff, some nightmares, some crack

a/n wasnt gonna watch s2 but then i saw the lee byunghyun edits and sjsjs theres only few chars here because i havent watched the whole season :( i dont think ill be watching the whole thing any time soon, jus waiting for s3 to drop before watching it all together

inho / youngil / the frontman / 001

youngil stared at the guards while you stared at the bed in front of you. it looked stiff and scratchy, and barely wide enough for one person, let alone two.

“we can share. i don’t mind,” he had said to you, though he had looked tense as well. he sat on the bed, allowing you to scoot over. he laid as close to the edge of the cot as possible.

“oh, it won’t be necessary.”

“well, what other choice do you have?”

you sighed and nodded, awkwardly laying down next to him on the bed. as your shoulders touched each other, he relaxed visibly, though he was still lying on the edge, and that scared you a little.

“stop lying on the edge like that. you’ll fall off,” you warned.

“i’m fine,” he mumbled, staring right up at the ceiling. you kept looking at him, not minding the three times he had glanced your way pointedly at all. “don’t stare.”

“hm, why not?”

“it makes me feel strange,” he said simply.

you nodded, your hands instinctively reaching to your arms to shield yourself from the cold. there was only one blanket with only one bed after all. next thing you knew, you felt the blanket being nudged towards you by youngil’s foot.

“i saw that; it’s not very subtle, you know.”

“what’s not very subtle?” he asked innocently. then he shifted his body closer to yours. “it’s not because of you, okay?” he muttered quietly. “i just didn’t feel like falling off.”

“are you asking for cuddles now?” you snickered.

“no,” he replied gruffly, though his eyes softened slightly at the sound of your silent laughter.

“nuh uh, i think you’re cold as well,” you lifted the blanket up to accommodate him as well. you then glanced at him expectantly. he hesitated for a moment before slipping under the blanket, taking the moment to tightly grasp your hand. you smiled, resting your head above his shoulder on the shared pillow.

you woke up in the middle of the night to find him softly murmuring your name in his sleep. he looked peaceful, beautifully so. you brushed your hand on his chest to wrap it around him, and felt him waking up as well.

“hush, go back to sleep,” you whispered to him, and he raised an eyebrow at nothing in particular. his eyes were still closed. then he let out a tiny giggle and tightened his grip on your hands.

the guards executed this one perfectly, right as per orders from the frontman; hwang inho will make sure to reward them later, but for now he’d rather stay in this shared bed with you by his side.

seong gihun / 456

“i guess it can’t be helped then,” gihun said simply, sitting you down on his bed and pulling the covers over you. “sorry if i snore by the way.”

“what do you mean? where will you be sleeping?”

“on the floor, of course.”

“no, you’re not,” you shook your head, patting the empty space beside you. “i still have some place left here for someone.”

“oh, then let me find someone who can’t find a partn—”

you pulled the man down onto the bed, his face crashing against the pillow. throwing the covers over him as well, you turned to face him, muttering, “you really aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“no, uhm, what if i hog the blanket? that would be unpleasant—”

“i can live with that.”

gihun blinked rapidly. “i don’t think i should be sleeping. what if someone attacks?”

“relax, they’re keeping watch.”

“i think i should keep watch with them,” gihun gulped at your proximity.

“well, i don’t. and you need sleep; have you seen yourself?” you laughed.

gihun beamed at the sound. “then how about I tell you a story?”

“a story?”

“yeah, to make you happy.”

“why though?” you said tiredly.

“to make you laugh. i like seeing you laugh,” he said genuinely, and you nodded in response. his eyes lit up and he began, “so there was this one cow, and it had a baby cat—”

…

“gihun?”

he snored.

“gihun!”

he snored again.

did he really fall asleep mid-sentence? you sighed, shaking your head before snuggling up to him. he unconsciously draped an arm over you in his sleep.

throughout the night, he kept tossing and turning, before—

smack !

you clutched your face where gihun’s hand had just made contact. before letting out the loud cuss you wanted to, you peeked over to see if he was asleep. and sure enough, if the snores hadn’t let it be known earlier, then the closed eyes did.

“this dumbass,” you muttered, nuzzling your face into his side.

but what could you do either way? if you complained, he’d be mortified and force you to switch places, and you’d lose a chance to cuddle with him. so you instead figured the occasional smacking would be worth being the first person to see his hair sticking out in every direction with his sheepish grin in the morning.

a/n: i’ve only got hcs for the others; sorry guys i prefer my old men inho and gihun :P

daeho / 388

he insists on taking the less comfortable side of the bed

even if that meant he barely has any space MY GNELTMAN

at some point his hand will brush yours (because its an ff duh) and he’ll get all startled like :O

but he won’t move away because he decides he likes it

we all know the trauma this man carries :( so don’t be surprised when his grip on your hand loosens in the middle of the night and his face scrunches up because he’s having a nightmare

just please cuddle with him :(( he’ll try to play it off like it’s nothing but know better!

when you quietly offer comfort, his defenses will crumble, and he’ll whisper a quiet thank you to you

in the morning he’ll wake up before you and realize just how close the two of you are.

he’s been bearhugging you in his sleep and you’re reciprocating it? hes so confused like ??????? do you wanna get choked or sum yes you do

he’ll just quietly stare at you as if he’s in a daze. he’s got that lovesick smile and all, just silently looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen you are

he just as silently fixes the blanket on you because he wants to offer as much comfort as you did last night to him

then he’ll gently apologize to you for disturbing you, smiling to himself when you grumble in your sleep

sangwoo / 218

this little shit

he’ll pretend not to care about you or about the bed or about the entire situation at all

but you can see how he tries to be as subtle as possible when adjusting the pillow under your head to make sure you’re comfortable

you’re practically begging him to accept his feelings atp but this man is a menace

as soon as he saw the one bed he started calculating how much space you’ll take and how much he’ll get

if you shift closer in your sleep he’ll freeze for a moment but he won’t pull away

if you move a lot in your sleep he won’t say anything just yet

but expect to be bombarded with complaints when you wake up in the morning

he watches you out of the corner of his eye, something he describes as “just trying to protect you” by “keeping watch” but you know he’s just dazzled by your beauty who isnt

he’ll lie awake for a while staring up at that huge piggy bank that his future lies in, and he knows he can’t love you like he wants to, but he hopes that just this once his brain will accept what his heart feels

when the sunlight hits his face in the morning, he’ll look so peaceful that it makes even ali question his mood

all the while gihun is just staring in horror at sangwoo like he got some puss

ali / 199

THE POOKIEST POOKIE

he’s so shy UGH i jus wanna gobble him up sjsjsjkgnskjn

but he can’t help smiling softly when he realizes how comfortable you seem to be around him

he’ll offer to sleep on the cold hard floor and insists you take the blanket for yourself, but duh you don’t allow that

so with a grin on his face he lies down next to you

he asks you if you need more space at least 10 times, he’s that nervous

the blanket stays on you though, he can’t risk you feeling cold or uncomfy because of him GNELTMENANN

he’ll stay awake if you want someone to talk to, or to make sure you’re warm enough, or even just to admire you

but if you don’t want that, he’ll pull an aurora and fall asleep so quickly you don’t even realize it

his hand stays brushing against yours under the blanket though, and you feel so warm and fuzzy next to him

he’s a snuggler, so there’ll be times where he’ll shift very close to you in his sleep, not realizing the hand he’s keeping on your waist or the head he’s resting on your chest

someone points it out in the morning and he’s so flustered he apologizes profusely even though you keep telling him you didn’t mind it all

definitely says something like “i slept with you, remember?” because he doesn’t realize it’s an innuendo

© chuulyssa 2025 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[carnalcrows]

LOLLIPOP - CHO SANGWOO

pairing: dad's best friend!cho sang-woo x trans male reader

synopsis: When your dad’s hot best friend crashes at your place for a week, things heat up faster than the broken AC—throw in drunken confessions, lollipops, and a whole lot of unresolved tension, and you’ve got a summer break you’ll never forget.

content warnings: 18+, reader definitely has an oral fixation, too much plot, mentions of a transphobic mother, (GI HUN IS READER'S DAD), age gap (reader is 19 and sang-woo is in his 40's), unprotected sex, P in V, back-scratching? fingering, lots of unspoken tension.

word count: - 4.3k

A/N: ty to @art-gang-money , their request was what made me go on a spiral w this fic 🙏🏼🫡

Summer in your dad’s apartment always smelled like kimchi stew and stale cigarettes, a combination you’d grown weirdly fond of since moving back in after you started uni. The ceiling fan wobbled as it turned, and the couch sagged just enough to remind you how old it was. You were sprawled out on it lazily sucking on a cranberry lollipop and scrolling through your phone, when your dad cleared his throat dramatically.

“You’ll never guess who’s coming over,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like he was delivering some kind of life-altering news.

“Let me guess,” you deadpanned. “The landlord? Because I think the AC’s about to give out.”

He waved you off, grinning. “No, you brat. Cho Sangwoo. You’ve heard me talk about him, right?”

Heard? More like endured. Sangwoo was the mythical figure your dad brought up at every family gathering, a symbol of everything Seong Gi-hun wanted you to be: successful, hardworking, and an SNU graduate. You’d rolled your eyes through countless retellings of his achievements, imagining some stiff, balding guy in glasses who probably spoke in lectures.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered, not looking up.

“He’s staying here for a week,” your dad added, oblivious to your lack of enthusiasm. “He’s got a client nearby, and I told him he could crash here. You’ll like him. He’s... cool.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Cool? Coming from you, that doesn’t mean much.”

Your dad ignored the jab, already walking toward the door. “He should be here any minute!”

When the door opened a few minutes later, you barely glanced up—until you heard the deep, smooth voice that followed.

“Gi-hun,” the man said warmly, stepping inside. “It’s been too long.”

You looked up and your sucker almost fell out of your mouth.

This wasn’t the stiff, balding guy you’d imagined. Sangwoo was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than your dad’s entire wardrobe. His hair was styled just enough to look effortless, and the way he carried himself screamed confidence.

“Finally, you’re here!” your dad said, pulling him into a back-slapping hug. “Sangwoo, this is my son.”

“Nice to meet you kid,” Sangwoo said, extending a hand toward you.

You shook it, trying not to let your thoughts show on your face. His grip was firm, and his eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary.

“So you’re the famous Sangwoo,” you grinned, “Didn’t expect you to be so... old.”

Sangwoo raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Old?”

“Yeah,” you teased, leaning back against the couch. “Forty’s ancient.”

Your dad barked out a laugh. “Don’t mind him. He thinks anyone over twenty-five is ancient.”

Sangwoo didn’t reply, but the way his gaze lingered on you made your stomach twist.

After dinner, the hum of the evening settled over the apartment. Gi-hun had retreated to the couch, already half-asleep with the TV droning in the background. You had volunteered—reluctantly—to wash the dishes, partly out of guilt for eating so much and partly to avoid sitting awkwardly in the living room while Sangwoo and your dad chatted about old times.

The warm water ran over your hands as you scrubbed a plate, the faint scent of dish soap filling the air. You had just started to lose yourself in the monotony when you felt it—the faint shift of the air behind you.

“Need help?” Sangwoo’s voice came, low and smooth, almost too close.

You froze for a split second, your grip tightening on the plate. “Uh... I’ve got it,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out tighter than you’d hoped.

He didn’t seem to care—or maybe he didn’t believe you. Instead of leaving, he moved closer, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for the sponge in your hand.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he said, his tone light but with an edge of amusement.

Before you could protest, he had already slid the sponge from your fingers, his other hand gently nudging you to the side—not enough to move you completely, but just enough so he could stand behind you, his chest brushing your back.

The countertop pressed against your hips, trapping you between the solid wood and Sangwoo. You swallowed hard, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a gust of wind.

His scent hit you first—clean and sharp, a mix of soap and something faintly musky, like fresh cedarwood. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower; his hair was still damp, and the faint warmth of his skin radiated against you.

“Just rinse them,” he said, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded dumbly, reaching for the faucet, but your hands felt clumsy, your fingers fumbling with the knobs. The sound of the water splashing into the sink seemed impossibly loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen.

Sangwoo leaned forward slightly, his arm stretching past you to grab another plate. The movement brought him even closer, his chest pressing more firmly against your back. You could feel the faint rise and fall of his breath, steady and unhurried, as if he weren’t fully aware of what he was doing—or maybe he was too aware.

“You’re tense,” he commented, his voice laced with amusement.

You let out a breathless laugh, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be body-blocked while washing dishes.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back. “You’re overthinking it. Just relax.”

Easier said than done, especially with him standing this close. Every time his arm brushed yours or his hand grazed yours as he passed a plate, it sent tiny jolts of electricity through you.

“You always make dishwashing this awkward?” you asked, your tone half-joking, half-desperate to diffuse the tension.

“Only when I’m working with someone as clumsy as you,” he shot back, his smirk practically audible.

You turned your head slightly to glare at him, but the motion brought your face dangerously close to his. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to you, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

The air between you was heavy, charged with something unspoken but impossible to ignore. He was so close you could see the faint droplets of water still clinging to his hair, the curve of his mouth as he smiled faintly, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Well,” you managed to say, your voice quieter now, “if you’re going to take over, at least let me get out of your way.”

“Who said I wanted you to move?” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you thought you’d misheard him. But then he turned back to the sink, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he continued washing the dishes as if nothing had happened.

You stayed frozen in place, your mind racing and your pulse hammering in your ears. If this was some kind of game, Sangwoo was winning effortlessly.

On the third day of Sangwoo’s stay, your dad insisted on taking you both out for drinks, and Sangwoo agreed with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Gi-hun, unsurprisingly, got wasted. You and Sangwoo ended up practically dragging him back to The humid summer night hung heavy as you and Sangwoo maneuvered your dad through the narrow streets, Gi-hun stumbling slightly with every step. He reeked of soju and cheap beer, his arm slung around Sangwoo’s shoulder while you tried to steady him from the other side.

“He’s heavy for someone who barely eats,” you grumbled, adjusting your grip.

“He’s always been like this,” Sangwoo said, shaking his head. “Some things never change.”

“Y’know,” Gi-hun suddenly slurred, his voice unusually loud in the stillness of the night, “I never thought I’d be one of those dads.”

“Which kind?” you asked, bracing yourself for whatever drunken confession was about to follow.

“The good ones!” he proclaimed, nearly tripping over his own feet. Sangwoo caught him effortlessly, his expression unreadable as Gi-hun continued. “Your mom… she didn’t think so. Thought I was crazy for defending you.”

“Dad,” you muttered, feeling the familiar prick of discomfort settle in your chest. “Maybe now’s not the time—”

“Why not?” Gi-hun cut you off, his eyes glassy but filled with a strange intensity. “Sangwoo doesn’t care. Do you, Sangwoo?”

Sangwoo hesitated, glancing at you before replying softly, “Not at all.”

Gi-hun nodded triumphantly, as if Sangwoo’s approval was all the validation he needed. “See? Told you. No shame in it. Not a damn bit.”

You didn’t reply, focusing instead on guiding him toward the apartment. But Gi-hun wasn’t done.

“Your mom…” His voice grew quieter, tinged with bitterness. “She couldn’t handle it. Said it wasn’t natural. Like you weren’t her kid anymore, just because you stopped wearing dresses and started wearing ties.” He barked out a humorless laugh. “As if a piece of fabric could change the fact that you’re you.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t interrupt. This wasn’t the first time he’d brought it up, but it still hit like a sucker punch every time.

“She wanted you to be her perfect little daughter,” Gi-hun continued, his words starting to blur together. “And when you wouldn’t… she packed up your sister and left. Going all the way to America like that would fix everything.”

He stumbled again, and this time Sangwoo steadied him with a firm grip. “America’s got more people like you anyway,” Gi-hun added, his tone lightening into something almost comedic. “She probably hates it there. Serves her right.”

You let out a soft, startled laugh despite yourself. The absurdity of it all—the drunken way he said it, the thought of your mother fuming in a country full of people who were allowed to be themselves (kinda)—was too ridiculous not to.

Gi-hun turned to look at you, his expression suddenly serious. “But you know… I’m glad you stayed with me. I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Not for a wife, not for money, not for anything.”

Your throat tightened, and you could only nod, your voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Gi-hun leaned heavily against Sangwoo, his weight almost toppling both of them. “My kid’s a damn good man,” he declared, his voice wobbling with emotion. “Better than I’ll ever be.”

Sangwoo’s gaze flickered toward you, his dark eyes softening in understanding. He didn’t say anything, but the slight dip of his head felt like a silent acknowledgment—a recognition of everything unsaid.

When you finally got Gi-hun back to the apartment, he collapsed onto the couch, snoring almost instantly. You stood there for a moment, staring at him, your emotions too tangled to sort through.

Sangwoo broke the silence, his voice low. “He’s a good father.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet sincerity in his tone. “Yeah,” you replied, your voice softer than usual. “He is.”

When you finally got your dad into bed from the couch, you turned to Sangwoo, expecting some kind of witty remark.

Instead, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“What?” you asked, your voice coming out more defensive than you intended.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe I don’t,” you replied, your tone defiant.

“Don’t play dumb.” He was close now, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. “You’ve been pushing me all week. Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “Maybe I do.”

That was all it took.

His hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was rough, heated, filled with all the tension that had been building between you.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands clutching at his shirt as he pressed you against the wall. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you let out a quiet gasp that only spurred him on.

The kiss had left you breathless, your pulse pounding in your ears as Sangwoo’s grip on the back of your neck softened just slightly. The wall at your back was cool, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His forehead rested against yours, and for a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered again, his voice quieter this time, but no less intense.

“You’re the one kissing me,” you shot back, the words shaky but bold.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and his fingers slid from your neck to trace the line of your jaw. The touch was maddeningly slow, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asked, his tone tinged with something between amusement and exasperation.

“Do you?” you countered, meeting his gaze.

His eyes darkened, and his hand dropped to your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good thing I’m not scared of getting burned.”

That was all it took for him to lose the last thread of restraint. His lips were on yours again, fiercer this time, his hands gripping your waist as if anchoring himself. You clung to him just as desperately, your fingers tangling in his shirt.

When he pulled back again, his lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been driving me insane,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yeah?” you whispered, a teasing edge creeping into your tone despite the way your heart was racing. “And here I thought you were just ignoring me.”

His laugh was soft, almost bitter. “Ignoring you? Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

Your face heated at his words, but you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. “Sounds like a you problem, old man.”

His grip tightened on your waist, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression a mix of frustration and desire. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t give you the chance. His lips were on yours again, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your bare skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you gasped softly against his mouth.

“Sangwoo—” you started, but he silenced you with another kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he pulled away just slightly.

“Say my name again,” he murmured, his voice so low it sent a thrill down your spine.

Your lips parted, but the sound of a door creaking down the hall snapped you both back to reality.

“Shit,” you whispered, your head jerking toward the noise.

He let out a soft curse, his hands slipping from your waist as he stepped back, putting just enough space between you to make it look like nothing had happened.

“Dad?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Probably,” Sangwoo replied, his tone clipped. He straightened his shirt, his expression already hardening back into the composed mask he’d worn all week.

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed as you watched him pull himself together, but the heat in his gaze when he glanced back at you told you this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

“Go to bed,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Promise?” you asked, your voice light but your heart still pounding.

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave you said enough.

Saturday had never felt so bittersweet. Usually, it was your favorite day of the week—a time to sleep in, lounge around, and revel in doing absolutely nothing. But this Saturday was different. Sangwoo’s stay was coming to an end, and the thought of him leaving left a knot in your stomach.

You hadn’t had the chance to talk about what had happened that night after the pub—or maybe you’d both avoided it. Every brush of his hand, every lingering look, had felt heavier in the days that followed. But neither of you had acknowledged it. Not once.

The tension in the apartment was unbearable, made worse by your dad’s cheery obliviousness. That morning, he announced he had to run out for work and wouldn’t be back until evening. He didn’t even glance up as he slipped on his shoes, leaving you alone with Sangwoo.

You sat at the kitchen table, absently swirling the stick of a grape lollipop between your lips as you scrolled through your phone. The candy clicked softly against your teeth, your thoughts miles away.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor snapped you back to reality. You glanced up to see Sangwoo sitting across from you, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Is it good?” he asked, nodding toward the lollipop.

You pulled it out of your mouth with a soft pop, tilting your head. “What, this?” You swirled the candy dramatically. “Amazing. Want a taste, old man?”

His lips quirked into that maddening smirk, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he stood, moving toward you with deliberate slowness.

“Sangwoo,” you started, a warning in your tone.

He stopped right beside you, one hand braced on the table as he leaned down. His voice was low, a soft rumble that made your pulse quicken. “You’ve been driving me insane all week.”

You tried for a laugh, but it came out shaky. “Is this about the coffee thing again? (you had put salt in his coffee instead of sugar because you were so fixated on his face-) Because I already apologized—”

His hand reached out, his fingers gently gripping your chin, tilting your face toward him. The sudden proximity stole the words from your throat.

“Stop,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on yours. “Stop pretending like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

Your heart was hammering now, the lollipop stick trembling slightly in your fingers. “Maybe I don’t,” you replied, though the smirk tugging at your lips said otherwise.

His gaze dropped to your mouth, and for a moment, he seemed to wrestle with himself. Then he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re going to make me lose control.”

The words sent a thrill through you, but before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It was rough, messy, and desperate, like he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. The lollipop tumbled from your hand, forgotten as you gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He groaned softly against your mouth, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you out of the chair and into him. Your back hit the wall a second later, and you gasped, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands tangled in his hair, still faintly damp from his morning shower. He kissed you like he was starving, his lips hot and insistent against yours. One of his hands slid up, tangling in your hair, while the other gripped your hip, keeping you firmly in place.

“You taste sweet,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough.

You managed a breathless laugh, tilting your head to nip at his jaw. “Blame the lollipop.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and heated. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“On the table,” you teased, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

With a low chuckle, he grabbed the discarded lollipop, holding it up as if examining it. Then, to your shock, he popped it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.

“That’s mine,” you protested weakly, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Not anymore,” he said, his tone laced with amusement.

Before you could respond, he was kissing you again, the faint sweetness of the candy mixing with the heat of his mouth. The combination was intoxicating, making your head spin.

His hands roamed, gripping your waist, sliding under your shirt to brush against your bare skin. Every touch left a trail of fire in its wake, and you couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped your lips.

“Sangwoo,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Sangwoo,” you repeated, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breathing ragged. “You’ve been driving me crazy all week,” he said, his voice low and raw.

“Good,” you shot back, your smirk returning. “Serves you right, old man.”

His laugh was quiet, almost disbelieving, before his lips found yours again, pulling you into another dizzying kiss.

His hand was going lower and lower, first to your collarbone, then to your waist. It slowly inched the topband of your shorts, pulling it back and letting it slap onto your skip, making you yelp.

His other hand held you steady at the waist, while his dominant one went under your boxers.

You whimpered as you felt his hand graze your cunt, teasing one finger against your wet folds. It had been a solid minute since you even touched yourself down there. You were always too anxious that Sangwoo would be able to hear you (Dad was tone deaf) or he might come home earlier than expected from his business meetings.

And his fingers— God, his hands. So strong and thick. They linger over the soft pudge of your cunt, pressing into the warm skin and pulling apart each sticky fold to ghost over the quiver and throb of your acawaiting, needy clit. How overwhelming they were, using his thumb to rub smooth circles into it, eliciting a wet squelch as his fingers sunk into your hot, gummy walls.

You latched your hands on his shoulders, back arching into the wall with the sudden intrusion. You muffled any noise you made by hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

He propped you up higher on the wall, letting your head fall back, while his eyes never left yours.

“Sangwo–,” you were cut off by him suddenly sliding your shorts down. You remembered with embarrassment that you had worn–

“Huh. Hello Kitty.” the man stated while looking at your bright pink boxers. Your face flushed, turning to look away, while Sanwoo slid your boxers down and continued to have his way with your sopping cunt. 

You had no idea how long you had been in that position. He had taken your leg and placed it on your shoulder, making you somewhat balance on one leg, back resting on the wall and your hands on his shoulder.

Sangwoo on the other hand was obsessed with how his fingers were practically being devoured by your needy cunt, the slick making it easier to slide in every time.

He determined that you had been prepped enough, and removed his belt, along with his pants and boxers, which were now pooling at his knees.

He used his toned arms to steadily lift both your legs up, making you squeak. Your knees were now at the same level of your shoulders. Before you could let out a remark, he had slid the tip of his length into your gummy walls, eyes going wide with how tight you were.

“Fuck…so tight f’me, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement, and before you could respond, he had slid all the way in, making you gasp.

Using the opportunity, he captured your lips with his once more, muffling the sweet moans that came from you. He wanted to hear you, but your neighbours seemed to be quite…nosy.

When he had buried his cock all the way to the hilt, he stopped.

“Please…fuck, Sangwoo–,” you whined, feeling full but it just. wasn’t. enough.

“Please what doll? Use your words,” he teased, the smugness evident on his face.

“Fuck me till my legs are shaking. Please please plea–,” before you could finish, Sangwoo had slid out and he rammed into you once more, making you let out an almost pornographic moan.

He went at it like an animal, fucking into you with reckless abandon, as though he was in a rut. Your hands went from his shoulders to his back, your nails (whatever was left of them after you bit them off) scratched his back, leaving crescent shaped indents on his skin.

Your cunt clamped tightly around his cock, as you tried to babble something but only moans left your lips. He seemed so heavily into chasing his own orgasm at this point. 

“San..Sangwoo..I– ” You tried to say but could only cry out as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a rapid stream. Your fingers dug ineffectually into his back as a way of forgetting the overstimulation against the older man’s harsh thrusts.

He groaned, feeling the sting of your nails and how your cunt was clenching around his length with every thrust.

He continued going even after you came, his hips retracting at a fast pace. His grip on your waist tightened, pressing down onto your flesh.

“ I’m gonna-- “, he breathes out before (reluctantly) pulling out of your tight hole and climaxing all over your stomach. 

The warmth of the liquid seeped down your stomach, settling in your navel and even going further to your used cunt.

As he was staring at your hole, that was still clenching around nothing, you brought your shaky hand to his face and dived in for another kiss.

The sound of a key turning in the door was unheard. Your dad’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Forgot my wallet! Need to get the groceries– What the… CHO SANGWOO WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SON–”

Shit.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[catchastarorten]

—More than anything.

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x lover!fem!reader

Summary: You had supported him through everything, but when you fell sick, he couldn't save you because of debt, so he participated in the games. The blood, the violence, it was all worth it because it was all for you, but he still couldn’t save you, even after winning.

Warnings: angst, illness, death, grief/loss, mentions of violence, guilt/sacrifice, emotional distress, Sang-woo won the games in this au, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.9k

The first time you met Sang-woo, it was in the bustling hallways of Seoul National University, your books pressed against your chest as he nearly toppled over you in his haste. Apologies poured out of him, flustered but composed, but it was the soft smile that followed that made you pause. You didn’t know it then, but that clumsy encounter would change both of your lives forever.

From that moment, he had become everything to you. And soon enough, you realized you were everything to him too. Sang-woo was the kind of man who always seemed in control of himself. But with you, that cool demeanor softened. He would laugh more, touch your hand absentmindedly, watch you as if you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

You supported each other through the tough years at university. His mind was brilliant—quick, sharp, and endlessly determined. It wasn’t hard to see why he was the pride of his family, the hope of his mother. He was going to do great things, you always believed that, and you reminded him every chance you got.

Sang-woo always spoke of a future where he’d be successful, where his mother would never have to work a day in her life again. And somewhere in that future—he said with a tentative smile—was you.

Years passed, and the challenges of adulthood crept in. Sang-woo’s ambitions, once so pure and noble, became entangled in desperation as he fell into debt. It started small—a few bad investments, a loan here and there, promises that he’d make it all back soon. But soon, the debts piled into something worse, a mess that loomed over both of your lives.

He had so much promise, so much potential, and you wanted to see him succeed. So when he started to falter—when the world wasn’t as kind, when the debts began to gather up, and his once-unshakable confidence began to fracture—you did what you thought any partner would do. You helped him.

You saw the way the guilt ate away at him. He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well.

“I’ll pay off this part for now,” you’d told him gently, holding the bank statement in your hand. He had stared at you, his expression tight, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

“No,” he had said firmly. “You’ve done enough. I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

But you didn’t care about that. You knew he felt ashamed, that his pride was bleeding, but you loved him too much to let him drown. “Sang-woo,” you whispered, reaching out to place your hand over his. “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I believe in you.”

He looked at you like you were his lifeline, the only light in his darkening world. He kissed your hand and said nothing more, but no matter how much you reassured him, the guilt lingered. He began to withdraw, the weight of his mistakes crushed him.

Then, as if the universe wasn’t cruel enough, you fell ill. It started with fatigue and a persistent ache in your chest. You brushed it off at first, telling yourself that it was just stress, but when the symptoms worsened, you finally went to the hospital.

The diagnosis was a gut punch. The doctors spoke in clinical terms, but all Sang-woo heard at the moment was that it was serious. You needed treatment, the treatment was possible, but expensive.

The hospital bills mounted quickly. You had always lived sparingly, but this was different. The treatment you needed was far beyond what either of you could afford, especially with Sang-woo already drowning in debt. You had tried to remain strong, tried to reassure him even when your body weakened and the days became harder to endure.

But Sang-woo wasn’t strong. At least not in the way you were. He didn't want to put up the pretense of having a "perfect" reputation anymore, he just wanted you.

One night, as you lay in your hospital bed, pale and shivering despite the blankets covering you, he dropped to his knees beside you. He gripped your hand so tightly it hurt, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.

“I’ll get the money,” he said, his voice trembling with determination. “I’ll find a way. I promise.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the man you loved falling apart. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, guilt and desperation consuming him.

“Sang-woo,” you whispered, your heart breaking for him. For both of you. “I’ll be okay... don’t do anything reckless.”

But he shook his head, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to know so well. He pressed his lips to your forehead, a lingering, desperate kiss.

“I’ll come back,” he said. “With the money. Just hold on for me.”

You wanted to believe him, but as you watched him walk away, a part of you knew that he was heading down a dangerous path.

At first, you tried to think light. You thought he had simply left to clear his head. Maybe he was meeting someone to talk about loans or some other last-ditch effort to save you. But then the days turned into weeks, and Sang-woo didn’t return.

You tried calling him, but his phone went unanswered. You asked the nurses, his mother, even some of his old university friends, but no one had seen him. You didn’t know whether to be angry, scared, or heartbroken. All you knew was that he wasn’t here, and you were running out of time.

The nurses came and went, offering kind smiles and gentle reassurances, but it wasn’t enough. What you needed—what you wanted—was him, by your side.

You missed his voice, his laugh, the way he’d hold your hand and promise you that everything would be okay. You told yourself that he was out there fighting for you, but as the days stretched on, doubt began to creep in.

In your quieter moments, you wondered if he’d given up on you. If the burden had become too much and he just left without a trace. But deep down, you knew Sang-woo. You knew how much he loved you, how determined he could be. He’d find a way back to you. He had to.

In your final days, you thought about him often. You tried to convince yourself that he had a plan, that he would come rushing through the hospital doors at any moment with that look on his face, telling you everything was going to be okay, that you could heal properly now. But he didn’t.

Instead, you were left with an empty chair by your bedside, your heart aching with the absence of the man you loved more than anything in the world.

On the last night, you couldn’t fight the tears anymore. You whispered into the quiet room—“I just wish you were here.” Your voice cracked, and you closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over. You dreamed of him one last time—of the way he smiled when you first met, of his hand in yours, of the warmth that had once filled your life.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was what Sang-woo was enduring.

He had entered the games through a salesman with a suitcase and a card with a number on the back. The games were a deadly competition where the stakes were higher than anything he’d ever faced. Life and death were decided in brutal, messed up versions of childhood games.

At first, he told himself he was doing it for you, for the money that could save your life. But as the games progressed, as blood stained his hands and the faces of those he’d sacrificed haunted his dreams, the lines began to blur.

How much of himself was he willing to lose to save you?

Every decision, every betrayal he made, weighed on him. He thought of you constantly, your smile a light in the darkness. When he felt the weight of his actions crushing him, he clung to the hope that he could still save you. That he could win, come back to you, and make everything right, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how much pain he had to endure, it was all for you. Because how could he call himself a man—your man—if he couldn't even keep you by his side? If he couldn't even get the money to save you and have you in his arms again, healthy and full of life?

When Sang-woo finally emerged from the games, clutching the blood money that was counted from each of the lifeless bodies of the other players, he felt hollow. His actions, the lives he’d taken, the people he’d betrayed—all of it threatened to suffocate him. But he pushed it aside. None of it mattered now. All that mattered was you.

He rushed to the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. He imagined the look on your face when he walked through the door, how you’d smile and tell him that he’d always been your hero. And for the first time since the games, he smiled. He smiled.

But when he reached your room, he froze, and everything inside him seemed to shatter.

You were still, too still. Your chest didn't rise or fall, your lips were pale, and your eyes—those eyes he had loved so much—were closed forever.

The nurse had pity in her eyes as she approached him. "I'm sorry... she passed away a few hours prior. We... we tried calling you, but..."

“No,” he choked out, he staggered to your bedside, falling to his knees onto the mattress of the bed, his hands reaching for you. “No, no, no… please, no…”

He pulled you into his arms, cradling your lifeless body as tears streamed down his face. “Wake up,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, wake up. I have the money now. I did it. I got it for you. You can get better now. Please, just… open your eyes.”

But you didn't. You couldn't.

“I got the money,” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. “I have it. We can pay for your treatment now. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay…”

Sang-woo's hand trembled as he cupped your face. Your skin was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth he remembered. He pressed his forehead to yours, the card that contained all the prize money laid forgotten on the floor, a cruel reminder of what he had to sacrifice to save you—of the blood, the death, and the lives he had destroyed in those games. He had told himself it was all for you, that he could endure anything if it meant seeing you smile again. But now, as he held your cold body in his arms, he realized it had all been for nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve stayed with you. I thought… I thought I could save you.”

He had done everything he could to save you, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. And now, he was left with nothing, because you had been his everything.

[snickerdoodlebaby]

a sangwoo x inho combo is probably lethal they would want to destroy you 😵‍💫 idk who’s meaner

The dream team combo fr 🙏

I see Sangwoo being more of a pervert, always pushing your boundaries and cleverly manipulating your innocent self. And I see Inho as more strict, roughly dealing out punishments to set your bratty ass in line.

Sangwoo holds you down against his sitting form, his big hands digging into the plush of your bare thighs, your ass high in the air. His lap is warm against your abdomen as your head is bowed down.

“Hold still.” You try your hardest to stop your wiggling and whimpering when the command comes from Sangwoo, you really do! You know he means business because he rolled up his sleeves and removed his glasses for this particular occasion. It’s not like you can move much anyways, with Inho’s tie binding your wrists together.

Oh, that’s right.

You can’t forget about the other man in the room, standing tall next to the two of you. Inho has a dark look as he eyes your plump ass in Sangwoo’s lap, raising his hand high behind you.

The slap is delivered with an echo around the room, your cheek rippling violently at the spank. You immediately cry out, you can’t help yourself!

“Shut her the fuck up.” Inho directs Sangwoo this time, the man moving quick to bend down with his mouth against your ear. “Shut that whore mouth before I put something in it. Be a good girl and take your punishment quietly.”

Your ass stings so badly it makes your eyes water, your lip nearly bleeding from how hard you’re biting down on it to silence yourself. Inho goes in for a second one when you’ve barely even recovered from the first.

You internally curse and squeeze your eyes shut, Sangwoo’s large body now covering your small naked one to keep you still. You try to shuffle your ass away from Inho’s hand but he grabs your thighs from the back roughly, tugging you back up.

Ah shit, you were in for it…you really shouldn’t have pissed them off.

By the end of the night your ass is littered with red hand marks from both of the men, you can pick out which one belongs to who because they each picked a cheek to abuse <3

[insidekatmind]

Work call~Cho Sang-woo

Wearning: +18,smut,age gap

Request: yes!

It was a quiet evening, and the atmosphere in your apartment was peaceful. Sang Woo was sitting on the couch, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in a calm and confident tone. He wore a slightly unbuttoned white shirt and dark pants, always looking effortlessly put together, even when focused on work.

You, on the other hand, were feeling a little bored and craving his attention. With a playful smile, you slid onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. He shot you a warning glance, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Mm? Hold on a second.” He said to the person on the other end of the call, trying to stay focused as your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt.

Feigning innocence, you rested your head on his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent. He let out a soft sigh, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with one hand while keeping his phone in the other.

“Yes, as I was saying, we should be able to close the deal by the end of the week.” His voice remained professional, but the subtle tension in his arms betrayed the fact that he was fully aware of your presence.

Unable to resist, you pressed a light kiss to his jawline. You felt him tense for a split second before his eyes met yours with a spark of challenge.

“Give me a moment.” He murmured into the phone before lowering it slightly. Then, in one swift but controlled motion, he pulled you even closer, his warm breath teasing your ear.

“You do realize what you’re doing, don’t you?” He whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You smiled innocently. “Me? Nothing.”

He shook his head, returning to his call, but his hand trailed down your back, holding you firmly against him. It was a silent game between the two of you, a delicate balance between work and temptation.

You get up from him to unbutton his pants and to pull down his boxers.Sang Woo's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his conversation momentarily forgotten. He quickly composed himself, his years of experience allowing him to maintain his composure even as your unexpected actions sent a jolt of arousal through him.

“Continue.” He spoke into the phone, his voice betraying no hint of the tension that was building within him.

You knelt in front of him, your eyes locking with his. His grip on the phone tightened as your fingers traced the contour of his muscular thighs. You could tell he was doing his best to maintain his focus on the call, but his eyes were darkened with desire.You smiled and licked a strip of his cock when he was talking.His words caught in his throat, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure. His free hand instinctively gripped the edge of the couch, his knuckles turning white.

"That's..." He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation. "Yes, that sounds like a reasonable proposal."

His usually sharp mind was clouded with a haze of arousal, his voice strained. He glanced down at you, his eyes narrowing in a silent warning and promise at the same time.You give him a sly smile and stand up while stripping in front of his eyes. His eyes trailed over your body, his gaze heated and filled with a fierce hunger that bordered on possessive. Despite his best efforts to keep his focus on the call, his gaze kept flickering back to you, roaming over your curves.

He shifted on the couch, his thighs tensing as he fought the urge to stand up and claim what was his. His hand gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles were practically shaking.

"Can you give me a moment?" He managed to say into the phone, his voice tinged with the edge of control slipping.You could see the struggle in his eyes as he attempted to juggle the call with the growing desire that was coursing through him. But he managed to keep his voice steady and his tone professional, betraying nothing of the internal war he was fighting.

"I apologize for the interruption. There's a small issue I need to take care of...Yes, I'll hold."

He placed the call on hold before finally setting the phone down on the couch beside him. His eyes tracked your movements, burning with a mix of desire and dominance."Come here." He said, his voice low and commanding.

You obeyed, slowly closing the distance between you and him. His gaze never left your body as you sauntered towards him, a confident sway to your hips.

Once you were close enough, he reached out and pulled you onto his lap, his hand settling possessively on the small of your back. His other hand toyed with a lock of your hair, his eyes roaming over your face with a calculated intensity.His touch was possessive but gentle, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he reeled you closer. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice a soft growl.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me."

He pressed his lips to a sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly, sending a delicious shiver up your spine.You moan softly and grind against his cock without letting him enter you. He stifled a moan, his grip on you tightening. You could feel the tension coiled in his body, his muscles coiled tightly as he fought to keep control.

"You're playing with fire, princess" he warned, his words a delicious threat.

His gaze was dark, a mix of desire and irritation. He was trying to maintain his composure, to keep his control. But every subtle movement, every little moan, tore at his restraint, weakening it bit by bit.

Sang woo pats your ass and enters you. "Now be a good girl for daddy and warm up my cock while I finish this call." Sang woo orders and you nod. His words sent a ripple of anticipation through you, your body instantly responding to the commanding tone in his voice.

"Yes, daddy." You replied, your voice soft and obedient.

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before nodding and picking up his phone. He unmuted the call, seamlessly resuming the conversation as if nothing had happened. On the other end, the person on the phone was completely oblivious to the sensual scene unfolding on sang woo's end.His eyes locked with yours as he spoke into the phone, his voice composed and steady.

"We'll need to schedule a follow-up meeting to discuss the finer details, but I think we have the basics...Yes, I'm confident we can work out a win-win situation for both parties."

He kept his hand on your hip, his touch firm and possessive.

"In the meantime, I'll have my associate send over some paperwork for you to review...Yes, thank you. We'll touch base soon."In the meantime, you closed your eyes as you felt his cock pulsating inside you and you had to hold on to all your strength to not moan and move and ride him. Sang woo could feel the tension building within you, your body trembling with the effort to remain still and quiet. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, his own control starting to fray as well.

He continued his conversation on the phone, trying to maintain the illusion of normalcy. "Of course, feel free to reach out to me or my team with any questions. We're here to find the best solution for your business needs."

He kept his hands possessively on your body, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fought to keep his own desire under control.While Sang woo was talking on the phone he pinched your nipples and you let out a little moan. His gaze flicked to you, his eyes narrowing in warning. "Quiet." He said gruffly, a hint of challenge in his voice. Then, he continued his conversation on the phone as if nothing had happened. But you could see the barely concealed smirk that played on his lips.

He continued to speak calmly, his words even, but every now and then, he would tease your sensitive spots, making you arch your back or let out a stifled gasp.

The call went on, Sang Woo's voice professional and businesslike, his actions anything but.

The heat of it all and the fullness of his cock filling you is just heavenly. You whimper and lean against him, putting your head in the crook of his neck, trying not to move your hips. Sang Woo's breath hitched, but he managed to maintain his composure, his voice staying steady as he responded to the person on the phone.

"Of course, I understand your concerns. We can certainly address those in more detail during our next meeting."

He pressed a gentle but firm hand on your hip, a tacit reminder to stay still.

"In the meantime, I'll follow up with our legal team to get an update on the contract status...No, thank you. I look forward to hearing from you as well."

As Sang Woo wrapped up the call, he finally set the phone down on the couch, shutting it off with a soft click. Then, he turned his attention fully to you, his gaze dark with desire and possession.

He wrapped his arms around you, his touch possessive as he pulled you flush against him. "You did so well, princess." He murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "Such a good girl for daddy."

"Can I ride you now?" You whimpered in need. He chuckled, his grip on your hip tightening. "You're such an impatient little princess, aren't you?"

He leaned back against the couch, his eyes roaming over your body. "Is that what you want? To ride me like a good girl?"

There was a hint of teasing in his voice, but there was also an undercurrent of possessiveness, a reminder that everything he did was on his terms. He slid his hand down your waist, his touch firm and confident. He was still in control, his dominant nature never straying far. But there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of your obedience.You nod and pull him into a kiss as you start to ride him but Sang woo stops your hips holding you still making you whimper. He grins, his eyes dark and filled with a possessive lust. "Not yet, princess." He leans in, his lips close to your ear, his voice a taunting whisper."Remember, I'm in charge here."

You moan as you feel his cock throbbing in your pussy.He chuckled, the sound low and possessive. "You're so eager, princess. So desperate for me."He runs a hand up your back, his fingers trailing along your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "But you'll have to be patient. I'm not done playing with you yet."

"Please daddy" you whimpered and Sang woo chuckled. "After princess, for now you will continue to warm up my cock. I have more work calls to make" he replied caressing your ass.

You let out a frustrated moan, your body trembling with anticipation. His words were a mixture of command and control, a reminder of who was in charge.

Sang Woo leaned back on the couch again, his gaze on you, possessive and dark. He picked up the phone and made a call, his voice cool and professional as if nothing was happening.

"Yes, this is Sang Woo. I'm calling to follow up on the progress of the merger."

For now you could only enjoy his cock inside your pussy and you were surely waiting anxiously for the call to end.

[ferrarifinnick]

IN ANOTHER LIFE | CHO SANG-WOO (PLAYER 218) AU

pairing: sang-woo x reader au (slice of life)

ft: sae-byeok (ooc), gi-hun, ali summary: after your long honeymoon abroad, you were finally reuniting with your friends at a bar in seoul. warnings: wholesome fluff, hardly any plot, protective!sang-woo, established relationship, pda, teasing, small flashback to sexual encounter, alcohol consumption, marriage, sub/dom if you squint, the happy ending the og characters deserved. 1.7k

the bar was heaving. sang-woo pressed his palm to the small of your back, coaxing you along as he guided you into the crowd in search of your friends. he angled his shoulder outwards, unafraid of driving it into anyone careless enough to get in his way. all he could think about was your little body in a sea of drunk, sloppy men standing much taller than you, and all he wanted was to get you to safety.

sang-woo's shoulder caught a stranger in the back. he spun around, face red and contorted, the liquid in his glass sloshing onto his own shirt.

"watch it!" he slurred, craning his head to square up to sang-woo, but even if he matched him in height, he would lose by size.

sang-woo said nothing, he didn't need to. the coldness in his eyes said everything for him. one look and the drunk man stepped back, hands lifted in an offering of peace. sang-woo accepted it, but not without taking one last look and scoffing.

"sang-woo," you warned as he moved you along. he knew you disliked his confrontational side that came out when he was feeling protective of us, but there were matters more pressing than one drunk man.

"are you still watching your drink?" he asked, and you glanced down at the glass held only by your fingertips, palm sealing the top from bad intentions. "good girl," he praised when you nodded your head, looking up at him like he was all that existed.

his fingers spread wider across the small of your back, and you didn't miss the way his fingers grazed the top of your ass.

you glanced away from sang-woo at the distant call of your name.

in the corner, gi-hun stood up from his seat at a booth, waving you over with a sway of his arm. "over here!" he said, before sinking back into his chair.

sang-woo re-centred his hand on your back immediately. he kept it there until you arrived at the table where your friends hollered out sounds of jovial greetings, and only took his hand off when you sat down. he followed you into the booth, his thigh falling against yours. the expensive material of his suit trousers cold against your bare skin.

sae-byeok squealed your name and pulled you into an embrace. "i've missed you!" she beamed, rocking you sideways in her arms. she pulled back and looked you up and down, savouring your presence with a content sigh, but her gaze landed over your shoulder. the smile was gone, replaced by a scowl as she lifted a finger to point at your husband. "you," she accused. "honeymoon's are supposed to last two weeks," she said, narrowing her eyes as she rested a hand against your knee. "you kept us apart for a month!"

sang-woo raised his hands defensively. "don't blame me!" he said, tossing his head toward you. "she's the one who wanted to see half of europe."

"me?" you gasped, hand flying up to your chest. "i wanted to see paris. you're the one who insisted we visit milan, london, berlin..." you listed, only trailing off to gasp again as he rolled his eyes playfully. you poked a finger into the wall of his chest and all too quickly, you paused.

sang-woo slowly lowered his gaze to your hand on his chest. the tick of his jaw, the slow drag of his eyes back up to yours. they were dark, dirty, and the stretch of his lips into a sly smirk helped remind you of the last time you tried to stand up to him.

the telephone of your hotel suite in amsterdam informed you of a noise complaint, citing concerningly loud crying.

sang-woo held the phone out for you to listen as the receptionist asked "is everything okay?" and the tilt of his head encouraged you to put her mind at ease. "yes, everything is hnngh–" you cried as sang-woo slowly pulled back his hips, only to drive them against yours in one swift motion. "everything's fine!" you said quickly, shoving your face into the mattress as another blow of sang-woo's hips landed against yours.

sang-woo lifted the phone to his own ear and said, "thanks for your concern," before hanging up and setting it carelessly back onto the receiver. he turned back to you, arms dropping back down to cage you to the mattress.

you knew the memory was replaying in his mind. the stretch of his smirk gave him away. the heat rushed into your cheeks when his eyes glossed over with desire. you couldn't even look at him, his gaze was too intense, too provoking for you. under the table, his hand slowly settled onto your thigh, slowly running closer to the hem of your dress.

"i feel like we're interupting something," said ali, hiding behind his bottle of beer. he peeked from behind it, as if frightened to be correct.

you pressed your palm against sang-woo's chest and shoved him back, and while he didn't even budge, he did release you from his gaze and turned to the rest of the table. you shakily reached out for your cocktail, grateful to the ice cubes for chilling the glass, and took a flustered sip. you needed to cool down.

sae-byeok caught your eye as you took a quick glance around the table. she gave you a sly, knowing smirk. "i see why the honeymoon doubled," she said quiet enough for just you to catch, leaning it closer to teasingly nudge your shoulder with hers.

"oh, stop it," you nudged her back.

she giggled and lifted her own cocktail up to tap against yours. "cheers to europe," she said, "hot, sexy europe."

meanwhile, sang-woo hooked an arm over ali, defusing the tension by redirecting the conversation to him "ali," he said. "don't tell me you and mrs. abdul weren't the same after your honeymoon."

"mrs. abdul doesn't like it when i talk about the happenings of our honeymoon."

sang-woo raised his eyebrows and asked, "were you that bad in bed?"

ali scowled. sang-woo chuckled and affectionately pulled him in closer to ruffle his hair, careful not to overdo it.

"hey!" ali protested, swatting sang-woo's hands and breaking out of his hold. "don't get any ideas," he warned, lifting up his wedding band and tapping it. "i'm not available."

"but i am," gi-hun said with exaggerated flirtation, before taking a swig from his bottle, shooting a suggestive wink at sang-woo who kicked him under the table. "ow!" gi-hun cried, flinching as sang-woo reached across the table to playfully swipe at him.

sae-byeok shot an arm out at her cocktail glass, narrowly retrieving it from the table in time to dodge sang-woo’s arm. gi-hun's beer bottle wasn’t so lucky, toppling over and spilling over his lap. sae-byeok sighed and rolled her eyes, turning back to you.

"why did we even invite them?" she asked, leaning into your side. she ran her hands down your wrist and caught your left hand, lifting it up to her face. she gazed at your wedding ring. "it's very beautiful," she breathed out in amazement, tilting your hand under the bar lights. she gasped as it sparkled. she beamed excitedly, "so shiny!"

"don't take your eyes off it," gi-hun warned, bumping his elbow into sae-byeok's. "or it'll be gone by the end of the night."

sae-byeok dropped your hand and swatted his shoulder, but sang-woo reached out and caught it before it could fall to your lap. he lifted your hand up and examined the ring he placed on your finger only a month ago. he smiled fondly, lifting the ring to his lips to press a chaste kiss against it. you shuddered as his breath fanned over your knuckles.

he leaned closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "you're so beautiful when you're smiling," he murmured, pressing a final kiss to your cheek before returning you to sae-byeok, who rolled her eyes one last time at gi-hun.

"that was one time," she said. "i robbed you one time."

"still one time more than anyone else at the table," gi-hun pressed further, but the glimmer of affection in his glazed eyes was enough to diffuse any argument. he grinned once more before turning back to the boys.

you reached out for sae-byeok's arm and she lit up immediately, understanding exactly what you were asking for. she offered you a sip of her cocktail, and you did the same. you both leaned back, smacking your glossed lips, evaluating the taste.

"six," she decided, pointing at your drink to explain the reasons for her ranking of your cocktail. "a little too sweet."

you scoffed. "you would say that," you teased, feigning offence, before settling against her shoulder and falling into conversation.

the hours rolled by as you shared stories of your trip, discussed her little brother starting high school, and most excitingly, her new romance with a pretty girl called ji-yeong. she swiped through an album of images from dates at cafes, walks through the city, movie night on sae-byeok's sofa. the whole time you listened, all you could focus on was the grin that consumed every one of her features. the creases by her eyes, the stretch of her cheeks.

she was finally happy.

"i wanted to ask if i could bring her over," she asked sheepishly. "to the next family dinner."

at the end of every week, you and sang-woo's mother prepared dinner in the home you shared with your new husband. everyone was invited. sae-byeok and her little brother, ali and his family, and of course, gi-hun.

you blinked at sae-byeok. the dinner table was never too small for another chair, and sang-woo always made sure there were enough wine glasses in the cupboard for a small army.

"sae-byeok," you said softly, resting your hand against her arm. "that would be wonderful, i can't wait to meet her."

she broke into a grin and immediately burst with excitement. "don't worry about dessert, she makes really great bingsu!"

she listed all the other desserts that ji-yeong has made her, and you let her ramble for as long as she did, just grateful to see such joy finally consume her. from the other side of the table, the boys seemed to be as equally engrossed in conversation, all leant over their beer bottles in calm discussion of what must've been anything other than sports. that always riled up sang-woo. but he was placid, a look of content while nodding along to gi-hun's murmurings.

sang-woo glanced over and caught you watching. he smiled, eyes flooding with a warmth that only you were privy to. he settled his hand on your lap, interlacing his fingers with yours silently, giving you one last squeeze before returning to his conversation, just as you did yours.

you took one last look around the table, and your heart swelled in your chest. everyone was smiling.

as beautiful as europe had been, it felt good to finally be back with your friends, with your husband, but most importantly, where you belonged.

in another life, maybe they really would have family dinners every week. please like, comment, reblog. love <3

[livvv-218]

Rules we break

Summary - What happens when you can’t go through with your order of eliminating Sangwoo. Pairings - Fem!guard x Sangwoo Warnings - smut, manipulation, age gap (reader is in her 30s and Sangwoo is in his 40s), unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), mention of being abandoned, guns, swearing

The cold fluorescent lights above flickered as you led him through the narrow corridor. Sang Woo walked in silence behind you, his footsteps muffled by the heavy echo of the empty hall. He likely believed you were escorting him back to the main room after his victory in the second game—Dalgona. How wrong he was.

You didn’t want to do this. Not at all. Despite the walls you’d built around yourself- walls necessary for a job like yours - something about Player 218 had gotten under your skin. You weren’t supposed to care—it was part of the job, after all, assigned to you by one of the VIPs. But from the moment you first laid eyes on him, you knew he was different. He wasn’t like the others—he understood what these games were truly about, what was needed to survive. You couldn’t help but admire that about him. While the others clung to false hopes, he faced reality. He was also undeniably attractive, but you refused to let your feelings cloud your judgment.

The assignment came from one of the anonymous VIPs the day before the games began. Your task was clear: eliminate Sangwoo, without raising any suspicions. The VIP had been cryptic, providing no real reason for the order beyond the vague claim that it was for "revenge." There was no explanation as to why the VIP couldn't simply allow Sangwoo to be eliminated by the games themselves, he just said it had to be done, and that was enough.

You weren’t the only one involved in this execution. A few other guards were responsible for tampering with the security footage, making sure no one would see you leading Sang Woo away from the main dormitory. But you were the one specifically assigned to carry out the final act—to assassinate him yourself.

The reason for being chosen for this particular task was unclear. As a triangle guard, you were hardly one of the higher ranks. But times were tight, and money was money. It was something you needed badly—to pay for your little sister's treatment. She was all you had left after your parents vanished, running off with what little you had to your name years ago. From that day on, raising her became your sole responsibility.

A few minutes later, you reached a red door that signaled you to turn left, instead of continuing straight toward the main dormitory where all the players were. As you made the turn, you could feel Sang Woo’s suspicion rise—he was starting to realize something was off. When you turned around, you found him standing still, staring at you with that calculating gaze. He wasn’t following.

You stepped toward him, your pace quickening, and aimed your gun directly at his chest. The movement was immediate. He began walking again, but you could see the glint of awareness in his eyes, and it made your stomach twist.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally reached the room. Normally, the door would be locked, but today it stood wide open, almost as if inviting you in. Sang Woo tried to maintain his composure, but it was clear—his facade was cracking. You could see the fear in his eyes, the way his shoulders stiffened with every step, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

Sang Woo followed you into the room, his movements reluctant, eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. His gaze landed on the corners, and it didn’t take long for him to notice the absence of security cameras. His expression shifted, a flicker of realisation crossing his face. Shit.

You reached for the walkie-talkie clipped to your waist, your fingers briefly brushing against the cool surface before pressing the button. "I'm in the room. This shouldn’t take too long," you said, your voice steady despite the unease curling in your stomach. Seconds later, the crackled voice of the operator came through the speaker: "Received."

You turned to lock the door, the metallic click echoing through the room, then set your walkie-talkie down on the small table beside the lone chair. The silence felt suffocating. Slowly, you raised the gun in your hands, aiming it directly at Sang Woo. His eyes went wide for a split second, and in that instant, panic overtook him. He raised his hands slightly, a silent plea for surrender.

"You don’t have to do this. We both know I’m worth more alive than dead. Think about it." His voice was calm, but there was an underlying desperation in it. Your expression remained void, your hand steady as you moved the gun closer to him.

Sang Woo paused, realizing his attempt to reason with you wasn’t working. His eyes flickered, calculating. Then, with a subtle shift in tone, he tried another approach. "Please. I need this money for my mother. She has no one else but me. Surely you have a family too. Imagine someone holding a gun to them... you’d want mercy, right?"

You knew it was manipulation, a calculated move to tug at your heartstrings. But still, the words lingered in your mind, like a weight pressing down on your chest. It was working.

The silence between you both grew heavy, thick with the tension of the moment. Sang Woo’s eyes never left you as you stood there, the gun still aimed at him. You could see the way his gaze softened, as if searching for a crack in your facade. He didn’t speak immediately; instead, his focus shifted to your mask.

"You're not like them," he said, his voice quieter now, almost coaxing. "You don't belong in this place. You don’t want to do this. I can tell'.

You flinched, but quickly masked it with a cold expression.

He stepped a little closer, his voice dropping lower, almost intimate now. "Take off your mask," he murmured. "Let me see the person beneath the uniform. Let me see who you really are."

You took a sharp breath, your pulse quickening. You knew it was a dangerous request—he was trying to break down every wall you'd built. But part of you wanted to. A part of you wanted him to see you. You hesitated for a second too long, and that was all he needed.

In one fluid motion, Sang Woo stepped closer, his fingers brushing the edge of your mask, tracing it gently whilst looking in your eyes. His touch surprisingly tender. "Please," he whispered, his voice laced with something almost pleading.

He gently cupped the edge of your mask, his fingers brushing against the cool surface, waiting for any sign of protest. For a moment, your pulse raced in your throat, the room seeming to close in around you. He wasn’t rushing—just watching, almost as if he knew you were debating whether or not to stop him.

When you didn't react, when you didn't move to pull away or object, he carefully lifted the mask. The air hit your skin immediately, cool and unfamiliar against your exposed face.

Sang Woo didn’t immediately speak. He simply studied you, his gaze lingering as he took in every detail of your face. For a moment it almost seemed as though there was adoration in his eyes—a flicker of something more than just survival instinct.

His jaw clenched slightly, as if in disbelief, as his eyes traced the curve of your lips, the soft indent of your dimples, the deep, captivating look in your eyes. His breath seemed to catch in his throat, and for a fleeting second, it felt like he wasn’t just seeing a guard, but a person, someone who could break through all his walls.

"You're... beautiful," he finally whispered, his voice low and steady, but there was a softness there that almost seemed foreign coming from him.

Your heart skipped a beat, the soft look in his eyes turned hungry. His hand lingered at your jaw, and before you could react, he stepped in closer, the space between you shrinking with each beat of your heart. His lips brushed against yours, gentle at first, as if testing whether you’d pull away. But you didn't. When he saw that you hadn't pushed him off you, one of his hands moved to your waist and he pulled you closer into him.

He groaned as you gently tugged his hair, his soft lips hungrily devouring yours felt incredible. You chose to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you how much trouble you could get into for this. You didn't care, at least at the moment. His hand tugged at the zip on your uniform, pulling it down desperately, like he couldn't wait any longer to have you.

You felt yourself getting wetter as he moaned huskily into your mouth. He unattached himself from your swollen lips and buried his face into your neck, sucking your skin gently and leaving wet kisses all across your neck and on your jaw. You moaned in pleasure as you felt his erection growing against your thigh.

''Jump'', he ordered as he grabbed your ass allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He put you down on the table and stood in between your legs, grinding against your thigh, making you moan loudly. You bit your tongue, trying to be quiet, the fear of being caught gnawing at you. But then, Sangwoo’s fingers gently lifted your chin, tilting your head to face him. His breath was warm against your ear, and his voice was low, almost a growl, as he whispered, 'please.. let me hear you baby'. Hearing him begging heightened your arousal even more, making your inner thighs become soaked.

He pulled off your uniform and threw it on the floor, leaving you in nothing but your bra and pants. You moaned in pleasure as he traced your wetness on your pants gently using his finger. He hooked his fingers loosely in the waist banned of your pants and looked at you to ask if it was okay. The moan he received in response was enough, he pulled your pants down to your ankles and kneeled down before you. He licked his lips before placing his face in-between your legs, leaving wet kisses all over your inner thighs. You tug at his hair in pleasure, pushing his face even further up your thighs.

He then started licking your clit, slurping all your juices and leaving sloppy kisses in between your folds. You felt yourself grow close, unable to contain yourself anymore, ''I'm so close Sangwoo'', you said, moaning his name. He looked up at you, his chin soaked with your wetness, ''cum for me baby''. You came undone on his tongue as he continued to flick your clit. 'Yeah, just like that baby. You taste so good. You're being so good for me'' he whispered into your pussy.

He stood up and kissed you hungrily, his tongue entered your mouth deepening the kiss. You grinded against his hard erection making him moan into your ear. You then reached to his trousers to pull them down revealing the massive bulge in his pants. He moaned loudly as you palmed his cock through his pants. ''I-I need you'' he whispered into your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your body. You responded by pulling down his pants, freeing his cock dripping with pre-cum.

He stood back in-between your legs and lined himself up by your entrance. It felt like heaven. You didn't give a shit how loud you were being this point, you couldn't help it. The way he hit your sweet spot each thrust made you want to scream in pleasure. ''Fuck your so tight baby - I'm gonna cum'' he groaned, his head tilted back in pleasure. A second later you felt him come undone inside you, making you cum too.

You both were a panting mess. His face was buried in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he caught his breath. He smiled gently at you, his expression softening in a way that you hadn’t expected. His thumb brushed delicately across your cheek, the movement tender, as if he were savouring the feel of your skin against his.

The moment was shattered by the crackling sound of your walkie-talkie. "Number 16, is the job done?" The cold, robotic voice from the other end felt distant, out of place in the intimacy of the room. You reached for the device, your hand still trembling slightly from the closeness you’d just shared with Sangwoo.

"Yes, it’s done," you replied, your voice steady, almost too steady, as if the words didn’t belong to you. They were just part of the job. The moment wasn’t yours to keep.

You placed the walkie-talkie back down on the small table beside you, your fingers brushing it lightly as you turned to Sangwoo. His eyes, still searching yours, softened as you stroked his hair gently, as though you were afraid he might disappear if you let go.

"Thank you," he said, his voice quiet but sincere, his smile a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something harder to read. His hand reached up, cupping your face in his palm, and before you could even react, his lips pressed against your forehead. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and it left a warmth that spread throughout your chest.

"I’ll have to keep you in my room until the end of the games," you whispered, meeting his gaze, your voice dropping slightly with the gravity of your words. "Then I’ll sneak you back to the mainland. I can't risk them finding out you're still alive."

He kissed you again, this time on the lips—brief, but with an intensity that made your heart skip. You could feel the weight of the promise in his kiss, the unspoken bond forming between you. His eyes softened with understanding, nodding in agreement. You knew the risks, and so did he. You know you had made the right decision by sparing his life, you would break the rules one hundred more times if it meant he could live.

[hangesidebitch]

It isn't romantic when Cho Sangwoo takes you after everything he’s done. It’s not soft. It’s not like how it was before. His hands are shaky, his lips suck on your neck for life. His eyes are dull, and he grunts your name over and over. His cock stretches you, he’s watching you, making sure you feel good. He has some fucked up obligation to take care of you now—

Atonement, as he'd say.

He’ll make you cum; pay for whatever you want as long as you don't ask any questions. Don't ask him about how he got all this money, or whatever happened to his childhood friend.

It’ll only make him fuck you harder

[ironshieldchild]

them

[frombloodandfire]

Indigo [4]

A woman who tries to escape her past with no hope for the future, ends up on an unknown place playing childhood games to win. A man from her past happens to be there for the exact same reason. Will they escape their haunted pasts? Or they will end up dying in vain?

Warnings: depression, language, mention of death, mourning.

Of course, I had to do everything last minute.

By this time, I was supposed to be on campus. Instead, I found myself sprinting through the streets, cursing my tendency to procrastinate. But I couldn't resist, I needed to stop by my favorite bookstore to pick up a copy of Wuthering Heights in Korean. It was my comfort book, and I thought having it with me might help with this new chapter of my life.

By the time I got to campus, I was breathless, my heart pounding from the mad dash. I met Yoon-Suh, and as always, she was unfazed by my chaos. We took our usual path through campus, grabbed coffee, and shared snippets of our day.

Then, it was off to class.

Psychology, my favorite so far. The lecture was fascinating, and for a moment, I forgot the stress of the morning. But as I glanced out the window toward the end of class, my stomach sank.

Rain.

Seriously?

Normally, I didn't mind the rain. I even liked it. But today? With no umbrella, no bag, and just my newly purchased book and class notes in hand, the timing couldn't have been worse.

When the class ended, I didn't waste any time. I clutched my things tightly and dashed out, determined to catch the first bus I could. The rain was relentless, pouring down in sheets and turning the campus pathways into rivers.

And then—

Bam.

I collided with someone, hard. The impact sent everything I was holding flying. My notes scattered into the puddles, and my precious book landed with a sickening splash.

Before I could even process what had happened, I felt the cold seeping through my clothes as I fell to the ground, soaking wet and mortified.

"Oh my god, I'm so, so sorry!" a voice stammered above me.

I looked up to see a man kneeling beside me, scrambling to pick up my things. His movements were frantic, but his tone was filled with genuine remorse.

"This is completely my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going," he said, his voice low but steady. He reached for my book, now sodden and ruined. His gaze lingered on the title, his expression softening. "Wuthering Heights?"

I stared at the ruined cover, my heart sinking. The rain blurred my vision, but not enough to hide the damage. "It was my favorite..." I murmured, my voice barely audible over the sound of the downpour.

He froze for a moment, then looked up at me with an expression that made me pause. He seemed... sincere. Almost regretful, as if my book's destruction was a personal failure.

"I'll replace it," he said firmly, holding it out to me. "This is on me. I'm so sorry."

For the first time, I really looked at him.

Even through the rain, he stood out. Dressed in a suit, with glasses framing a sharp, serious face, he looked like someone who belonged in a boardroom, not running through the rain on a college campus. There was a polish to him, a quiet confidence that made him seem older, out of place among the chaos of university life. And yet, there was something in his eyes... Something softer, almost vulnerable that caught me off guard.

"You don't have to—" I began, but before I could finish, he interrupted.

"You need it. Please." He handed me his umbrella, the gesture so quick and decisive I didn't have time to argue.

"But—"

"No, take it. I insist. I'll repay you for the book, I promise." He gave a small bow, his drenched hair falling into his face, before turning and sprinting off into the rain.

And just like that, he was gone.

I stood there, dumbfounded, clutching the umbrella and staring at the empty space where he'd just been. The rain continued to pour, soaking my ruined notes and dripping from my hair, but I didn't move.

My book was destroyed. My notes were a soggy mess.

Yet, beneath the frustration and devastation, there was something else, something unfamiliar, a feeling I couldn't quite name.

For the first time in a long while, it felt as though fate had nudged me, whispered in my ear that this moment mattered.

And I couldn't shake the sense that my life had just taken an unexpected turn.

That night, Lyanna fell asleep as soon as she got home. She didn't think about anything, she just collapsed into her bed. Yet, the next morning, her mind was a whirlwind of tangled thoughts. She needed to step outside, if only to buy something to eat. Her apartment was empty, devoid of life or food.

As she walked down the familiar road, her gaze fell on a stand she instantly recognized. Her stomach churned, and before she could turn and take another route, a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Lyanna?"

"Miss Cho!" Lyanna forced a smile, disappointment weighing heavy in her voice. This was a conversation she wasn't prepared to have.

"My darling, how have you been? I haven't seen you in so long. Your eyes look tired..." Miss Cho said in her usual, caring tone.

"I had a tough sleep." Lyanna replied, avoiding her gaze.

"Poor you, honey... Want something to eat? It's on me."

"Oh, no, you don't have to—"

"No, no," Miss Cho interrupted firmly. "Sit. I'll bring you some fish I just got."

Lyanna reluctantly sat down, waiting for Sang-Woo's mother to return. She cursed herself for forgetting to avoid this route. She wasn't ready to talk about Sang-Woo, not with his mother.

"Did you find any job? How is it going, dear?" Miss Cho asked as she returned with a plate of food.

"I have one in mind at the moment. It's a good deal... Apart from that, it's exactly how you left it."

"It will be okay, sweetie, you'll see. I told Sang-Woo the same thing, and now he's on a business trip in America. You'll see—it's just a storm. It will pass..."

"America?" Lyanna repeated, her voice heavy with disbelief. Was he still lying? Seriously?

"Yeah! You haven't heard from him, right?" Miss Cho's voice wavered slightly, as if she already knew the answer.

"No... Not at all. It's been years." Lyanna's tone was flat, hiding the hurt she felt. Even after all this time, Lyanna is still covering for him. Why? Was he in that much trouble?

"I understand... You can stay if you want. I missed you deeply, you know."

"I'm so grateful, Miss Cho. It's just that I have to return." Lyanna bowed politely, preparing to leave. "If you talk with Sang-Woo... tell him that I said hello." She forced a small smile and left, food in hand.

Despite everything, Miss Cho still loved her like the mother Lyanna never had.

Sang-Woo had come to check on his mother. He wanted to make sure she was okay, that no one had threatened her or caused her any harm. He approached from the back road, careful to avoid being seen. But as he neared the stand, his heart sank.

She was there.

Lyanna.

Fuck.

His chest tightened as a flood of thoughts swirled in his mind. What if she told his mother the truth? But then again, his mother loved her like a daughter. She would still lie for him, wouldn't she?

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"Sang-Woo."

He turned abruptly to see Gi-Hun standing behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Gi-Hun asked, his tone both curious and accusatory.

Sang-Woo didn't answer, his eyes darting back to the stand. Lyanna was still there, talking to his mother. With a final glance, he gestured for Gi-Hun to follow him. They walked away in silence.

Sang-Woo slumped onto a set of stairs and lit a cigarette.

"Is it because of your debt?" Gi-Hun broke the silence. "Hey, you're the pride of Ssangmun-dong, the genius born and raised here, accepted to SNU Business School as valedictorian. What's to worry about? You can just earn the money back. Go and tell your mom everything and start fresh!"

Sang-Woo let out a sigh, smoke curling from his lips. How easy it sounded when someone else said it. But Gi-Hun had no idea how impossible it really was.

"Earn it back? Six billion won?" Sang-Woo replied, taking another drag.

"Six billion?" Gi-Hun repeated, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. "Wait, I thought it was 600 million."

"There are things they don't know," Sang-Woo muttered.

"You worked at a securities firm. But you played with stocks?"

"Stocks weren't much. I dealt in futures."

"You bet that much on your future? What kind of future was it for you to risk that much money? You moved on from L—"

"No. Not that kind of future," Sang-Woo snapped, cutting him off. "I lost that way back anyway... never mind."

"Can't you just file for personal bankruptcy or something? I heard you don't have to pay off your debts if you do that."

"It's not just the money. Everything my mom has is collateral. Her house, her shop, everything."

Gi-Hun stared at him, the weight of the situation sinking in. "And what about her?"

"My mom? I can't tell her the—"

"No. You know who," Gi-Hun said quietly, almost a whisper.

"What about her? She went back to her life."

"What life? The life you also have?"

Before Sang-Woo could respond, Gi-Hun's phone rang, cutting the conversation short.

Lyanna finally made it home, closing the door behind her and setting the things she had bought on the table. She sank onto the floor, her energy drained. She felt like absolute shit. Her eyes scanned the small apartment, its emptiness reflecting the hollow ache in her chest. Memories she wanted to escape seemed to cling to every corner.

She thought about what the guard with the square mask had told her. A second chance. A second chance to finally have the life she'd always dreamed of. But could she take it? Her current life was a mess, filled with pain and nostalgia she couldn't shake. Her chest felt heavy as her thoughts spiraled, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She wanted to scream, to find a place where her mind could be silent. Why did it have to be this way?

Ding.

The doorbell startled her. She ran to check the peephole but saw no one. Opening the door cautiously, she looked down and found a small box with a note attached.

Don't forget them.

I know how I can help you and how to find him. Call me.

She froze, her heart pounding. This had to be Jun-Ho. She brought the box inside, closing the door behind her. Opening it, she found a photograph. It was from her graduation: she and Yoon-Suh in the center, with Sang-Woo and In-Ho standing beside them. Her hands trembled as she stared at it. How had Jun-Ho found this? The four of them kept copies of that photo, but it had been years since she'd seen hers.

The sight of it felt like a punch to the gut. Was this some kind of sign? Did Jun-Ho know something she didn't?

She rushed to her closet, digging out an old box she had thrown away years ago. Inside were countless photographs of her, Sang-Woo, Yoon-Suh, In-Ho. They had all been so young, filled with dreams and bound together like a family. But none of those people were in her life anymore. She clutched the pictures, tears streaming down her face.

What had gone so wrong? She sat there, surrounded by fragments of a life she'd lost, her heart aching for the one she'd loved and the family she'd made. Her tears finally gave way to sobs as she crumpled beside papers documenting a debt she couldn't hope to repay.

And then, the doorbell rang again.

"Have you been eating all right?" Sang-Woo's mother asked over the phone.

"Yes, I've been eating well. Don't worry," Sang-Woo replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.

"I doubt American food is to your taste. What have you been eating?"

"It's okay, Mom. There are lots of Korean restaurants here."

"Really? That's a relief. When are you coming back?"

"It's taking longer than expected, so I'm not sure. It might take a while."

"I see... It must be tough for you."

"Mom..." Sang-Woo began, his voice faltering.

"Sang-Woo, I have a customer," she said quickly. "Oh, and Lyanna passed by and told me to give you a hello. Please, when you come back, visit her. It's been years since you've seen her... Dress warmly, I love you."

The call ended, but Sang-Woo couldn't move. Guilt weighed on him like a stone. He drank late into the night, trying to numb the pain—the pain of what he'd done to his mother, the lies he'd told, the debt he couldn't repay, and the woman he'd left behind.

Ding, ding, ding.

The relentless sound of his doorbell pulled him from his haze. A small card slipped under the door.

TIME: MIDNIGHT, JUNE 23

PLACE: SAME AS PREVIOUS.

She woke up in the same room as before, surrounded by people in numbered jumpsuits. The vibrant mix of colors contrasted starkly with the tension hanging in the air. Her eyes instinctively scanned her chest. The number 052 was still stitched onto her suit.

As her gaze wandered, it stopped on a familiar figure lying in the bed beside hers. Sang-Woo.

"You came back?" she asked, her voice low and careful.

"I did." He glanced at her with a faint frown. "Why did you?"

Her mouth opened, but no words came. Instead, she stared at him, her thoughts colliding. Before either could say more, another familiar face appeared in the crowd.

"Gi-Hun!" she called, rushing toward him. Relief washed over her as she saw him.

"You're here," he said, a mix of surprise and concern in his tone. "I didn't think you'd come."

"Me neither... What about you both?"

Before anyone could answer, a man she recognized from the convenience store approached them.

"My savior!" Gi-Hun exclaimed with exaggerated joy.

The man smiled politely and nodded to her and Sang-Woo. "I'm glad to see you again, sir," he said to Gi-Hun, then turned toward her and Sang-Woo. "Thank you so much for the bus fare that day and for the help."

"You gave him money for the bus?" Gi-Hun asked Sang-Woo, eyebrows raised.

"He said he'd walk from Yeouido to Ansan."

"That's heartwarming," Gi-Hun said with a grin. "Comrades from boot camp, is that it?"

"What's a boot camp?" the man asked, tilting his head.

"You know, the military? Where you shoot guns and go through training," Gi-Hun explained.

"Oh, where soldiers live together?"

"That's right." Gi-Hun's face lit up with an idea. "Wait, now that we're on the subject, why don't we team up like we're in the military?"

"Perfect!" she added quickly. "Maybe we'll have a group game to play?"

"You're right," Sang-Woo said, nodding. "It's better to form a group and be prepared for everything."

"Listen," Gi-Hun said, turning to the man. "Why don't you join us? He's amazingly strong! You saw it, right? He lifted me up with one hand!"

"Can I really join you three?" the man asked, his voice tinged with hope.

"Of course!" she replied warmly.

"Yes, sure," Sang-Woo agreed. Gi-Hun jumped in with enthusiasm. "You're the private, the new lackey. She's the lieutenant, he's the competent corporal, and I'm the sergeant on my way out!"

Gi-Hun laughed at his own joke while the man nodded earnestly. "Thank you, sir!"

"You can drop the 'sir'." Gi-Hun said, waving him off.

"Hey," a raspy voice interrupted from behind them.

They turned to see the old man from before, smiling gently.

"If it's alright with you," he asked, "can you let me join too?"

"Of course!" Gi-Hun replied without hesitation. "You can be the sergeant major who gave his life to the military."

"Thank you!" The old man beamed as they all shared a moment of camaraderie.

"My goodness," Gi-Hun said, looking around at their small group. "Our team checks off all the boxes."

Later, they gathered to eat, finding a small spot next to some beds. Their newly-formed alliance offered a fragile sense of security amidst the chaos. As they sat down, Gi-Hun reminisced, talking about the food they used to eat in the past. Sang-Woo asked him to guess the next game.

"Hey, that's not something you can just guess," Gi-Hun replied, shrugging. "We'll find out when it begins."

The old man joined in, his tone reflective. "Well, if I think about what we did so far, it's probably a children's game from back in the day."

"Yes, I think so too," Gi-Hun agreed, nodding. "But there are too many games. Ddakji, Dabanggu, hopscotch, Biseokchigi, tag, Don Katsu, freeze tag, and for the girls, Gonggi, elastics, and cat's cradle. What else is there?"

"I don't know how to play any of these." 199 admitted, shaking his head.

"Neither do I..." Lyanna added quietly.

"Don't kids in your country play these games?" Gi-Hun asked them, his curiosity evident.

She hesitated, the question stirring faint memories she couldn't fully grasp. "I don't recall playing any of these..." she said.

"Don't worry," Gi-Hun reassured, smiling warmly. "Children's games have simple rules. We'll help if you don't know."

Lyanna gave him a straight look, unwilling to show any cracks in her composure. Despite her skepticism, she thought back to the first game, he had helped her then. 199 smiled at Gi-Hun, his gratitude evident. "Thank you," he said earnestly.

That night, as the lights went out, silence descended over the room. Lyanna lay awake in her bed, staring at the dark ceiling. Next to her, Sang-Woo was just as restless. She turned her head slightly, and their eyes met in the dim light.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered.

"Not really... not after thinking about the next game." she replied softly.

"You chose to come back. You can't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid. I'm just thinking... never mind." She turned, trying to end the conversation, but paused when a noise broke the stillness.

"Shush." Sang-Woo whispered sharply.

"'What did you see up there? You were there long enough!'" A woman's voice hissed in the darkness.

Lyanna leaned closer to Sang-Woo, lowering her voice. "What was that?"

"I guess we won't find out," Sang-Woo muttered, his tone low. He turned his head slightly toward her, his voice softer now. "Lyanna..."

"Tomorrow," she interrupted, her tone clipped. "Good night, Sang-Woo."

"Good night."

She turned away, closing her eyes tightly, but sleep eluded her. Despite his quiet presence, the weight of their shared history gnawed at her. She had trusted him once, relied on him—yet here they were, strangers under the same roof, tethered by the faintest thread of memory.

Morning came too quickly. Over breakfast, Lyanna sat next to Sang-Woo. Her attention was drawn to a girl across the room—the one Gi-Hun had argued with earlier. Was she the same person they had overheard last night?

"Why aren't you eating that?" 199 asked suddenly, breaking her thoughts.

"I don't..." she and Sang-Woo began simultaneously, exchanging a glance. Lyanna continued, "We don't usually eat breakfast."

"You can have it," she offered with a faint smile.

"Really?" he asked, his face lighting up.

She nodded. "Thank you, both of you."

"The smart ones never eat much, you know," Gi-Hun remarked, grinning. He handed his milk to 199. "You can have this too."

"Thank you, sir."

Before anyone could respond, the familiar classical music started playing. A chill ran down Lyanna's spine. It was time for the next game. She lied to Sang-Woo last night. She was indeed afraid. Never show them your pain In-Ho used to tell her. So that’s exactly what she tried to do. If she was entitled as the smart one or the lieutenant of the group that was what she would play as.

As they walked up the pink stairs, her fear returned. She glanced at Sang-Woo, who was just ahead of her, trailing closely behind 067.

"You saw something, didn't you?" he asked 067 in a low voice. "I heard you talking last night. Tell me what you saw."

"Why would I?" she replied sharply.

"You're a North Korean defector. All the games they made us play—I played them as a kid. It's likely the next will be something similar. Tell me what you saw, and I can guess what it is."

Before she could hear 067's reply, the man behind Lyanna stumbled, bumping into her. She fell forward but managed to steady herself. The moment was lost, and she cursed internally. Did Sang-Woo realize what the next game was? Would he tell them if he did?

They entered a large playground, painted in bright, cheerful colors that mocked their grim purpose.

"Welcome to your second game." the female voice on the speaker announced.

"Hey!" Gi-Hun said, turning to Sang-Woo. "What do you think this is?"

Lyanna watched Sang-Woo carefully, noting his expression—something wasn't right. She nudged his arm, but the speaker continued.

"Before the second game begins, choose from one of the four shapes and stand in front of it."

"Circle, triangle, star, umbrella..." Gi-Hun murmured, his brow furrowed.

"They seem very familiar..." 001 said thoughtfully.

"Sang-Woo, what should we do?" Gi-Hun asked, his tone almost pleading.

"I'm not sure," Sang-Woo replied.

"Should we move as a team?"

"That might be dangerous," Sang-Woo warned. "We don't even know what the game is. If we all pick the same shape, we might get in trouble. 'Don't put all your eggs in one basket.'"

"I wouldn't ever admit it in other circumstances , but I will say that I agree." Lyanna said, her tone cautious. "This way, we're prepared for anything, yet we're still together. Two will pick the same."

"Perfect!" Gi-Hun beamed and turned to the old man. "Sir, they got into Seoul University as the top of their class."

"Really? Goodness. Must be great people."

Sang-Woo ignored the chatter and said firmly, "I'll take the triangle."

Lyanna turned to him, narrowing her eyes. He definitely knew something.

"Dayira," 199 said suddenly.

"You mean circle?"

"Yes. It looks like the moon from my hometown."

As Gi-Hun and the old man deliberated, Lyanna decided to stick with her instincts. Sang-Woo knew something he wasn't saying, but her trust lay elsewhere.

"Then I'll take the umbrella!" Gi-Hun declared.

"Umbrella?" Sang-Woo asked sharply. "Why?"

"Why not?" she countered, staring at him. "I'll follow Gi-Hun."

Sang-Woo's eyes widened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "You should follow me. I'll help you since you don't know the games."

"Where's the difference, exactly?"

"Can you, for once, do what I say?" he snapped, grabbing her arm.

"Lyanna, he's right," Gi-Hun interjected. "Go with him for the best."

She sighed, watching the old man take the star. As they moved towards the doors, she tugged Sang-Woo aside. "You know what this is, don't you?"

"What?"

"Sang-Woo, I can read you like an open book. You know what it is. Why don't you tell us?"

"I just want you to be safe, that's all."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I told you—you'll be safe. That's all you have to care about in this place." He held her arm firmly, his voice softening. "No matter what, stick with me, okay?"

"You said that once," she whispered, her gaze unwavering. "Yet you were the one who left."

"I'm here now."

The tension hung between them, heavier than ever. Lyanna searched his face for something an answer, an apology but found only the same impenetrable mask he always wore.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ sad girl ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! there is also a part one to this story, million dollar man! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ one week had passed since your boyfriend, sang-woo, reappeared in your life under strange circumstances that made your blood run cold. for two agonizing weeks, he had vanished without explanation. then, he returned, battered and hollow-eyed, his face bearing scars that seemed etched not only into his skin but into his very soul. he had come to your door clutching a bag of cash, his body trembling, his clothes soaked with sweat. “wait for me,” he had whispered, his voice hoarse and desperate. you promised you would, and so you did.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop replaying that moment in your mind, every detail a puzzle you couldn’t solve. had he been involved in something criminal? was he tangled in debts or worse? the thought that he might be ensnared in something far beyond your understanding consumed you. the sight of him, standing there, so broken and afraid, haunted you. you didn’t want to believe he was in danger, but deep down, you couldn’t dismiss the fear.

˚ ༘♡ then, this morning, a text came through on your phone. it was brief, offering no answers, only an instruction, “come to my house.” no explanation, no reassurance, merely a summoning. the clock had barely struck six, but you didn’t hesitate. sleep clung to you as you threw on the white, wool coat he had gifted you months ago for your three-month anniversary.

˚ ༘♡ the streets were quiet, the morning air biting at your skin as you made your way to his home. every breath a battle against the anxiety clawing at your chest. when you reached his door, it swung open almost immediately.

˚ ༘♡ before you could say a word, he pulled you inside, his movements quick, the door closing behind you with a soft click. the air inside was warm, contrasting the chill outside, but it did little to ease the tension in your body.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re here,” he murmured, his voice low, and then his lips kissed your cheek, cool and brief, a gesture that was both familiar and foreign. the touch left your skin tingling, not with comfort but with unease. his eyes lingered on you, their usual sharpness dulled by something you couldn’t place, something sinister.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped back from him, your voice trembling but firm. “you have to tell me everything right now,” you demanded, though the weight of your exhaustion seeped into every word. the fear you’d carried for weeks had worn you down, leaving sorrow in its wake. “i can’t keep living like this, with all the secrecy and half-truths. it’s killing me.”

˚ ༘♡ as you glanced around, you noticed his home looked different, emptier than you remembered. furniture was missing, and stacks of boxes lined the walls, their presence unnerving. your eyes narrowed as you turned back to him. “are you moving? why didn’t you tell me anything?” your voice cracked with disbelief. then, anger surged, and you shoved his chest, your frustration spilling over. “this has to stop! you can’t keep throwing money and gifts at me, thinking it’ll distract me from everything you’re hiding!”

˚ ༘♡ his posture stiffened, his muscles taut under the pressure of your words. his jaw clenched tightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as though searching for the right response. when he spoke, his voice was strained, his frustration cutting through. “if you would only give me a chance!” he snapped, the sharpness of his tone filling the room. his chest heaved and fell rapidly as he struggled to compose himself.

˚ ༘♡ letting out a slow, deep breath, he rubbed his temple, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled off his glasses. without them, his eyes looked more vulnerable, the walls he so carefully built around himself momentarily exposed. “why can’t you trust me?” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. “why is it so hard for you to believe in me?”

˚ ༘♡ the scars on his face had faded slightly but still marred his handsome, angular features. your eyes lingered on them, the memories of his battered appearance resurfacing with a painful clarity. tears welled up, blurring your vision, and a tightness settled in your throat. “then tell me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth he was about to share. “it was business dealings,” he began, his tone measured, “not illegal, but high-risk. it was meant to be a way to increase my earnings, and it worked. it was highly profitable and lucrative in the fiscal aspect. it was presented as a secure business opportunity.”

˚ ༘♡ you narrowed your gaze, suspicion flaring. “how much money are you talking about?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated for a moment before meeting your eyes. “forty-five billion six hundred million won,” he said, his expression unreadable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in you throat, your mind struggling to process the sheer enormity of the figure. “what?” you managed to choke out, your disbelief evident. “sang-woo, that kind of money doesn’t come without strings attached. it can’t be clean.”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened, and he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “do you trust me enough to believe it is?”

˚ ༘♡ you faltered, the strength of his question bearing down on you. he wasn’t explaining, he was testing your loyalty, your ability to have faith in him despite the glaring inconsistencies. deep down, doubt clawed at you, but your love for him, flawed and reckless as it was, overpowered your reservations. “i trust you,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice. “i’m sorry for questioning you.”

˚ ༘♡ he nodded, the tension in his frame easing slightly, though his gaze remained guarded. “the investment fund ended a few weeks ago,” he continued, his tone darker now. “it got messy, very messy.” his bruised hand lifted, gesturing to the faint scars on his face. “this… was the price of my involvement.”

˚ ༘♡ the word lingered between you, heavy and suffocating. you stared at him, the weight of his choices crashing down on you like an unbearable tide. “why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “don’t you know I would have stood by you? no matter what?”

˚ ༘♡ his eyes darkened, and his voice rose intensely, startling you. “because I didn’t want to drag you into my problems!” he shouted, the force of his words filling the room and making you flinch. the reaction caught him off guard, his frustration fading as he noticed the fear on your pallid face. he let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his disheveled hair before pacing the length of the room. when he returned, his expression softened, and he cupped your face gently, his touch warm despite the tension. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m sorry.”

˚ ༘♡ you had hoped that hearing the truth would make things easier, that it would bring the clarity you craved. but instead, it felt as though the distance between you had grown wider. “sang-woo,” you said softly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, “i don’t care what you’ve done or what happened. i only want to know that you’re safe, that we’ll be okay.” tears spilled freely down your pale cheeks, salty streaks marking the anguish you couldn’t hide.

˚ ༘♡ his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in a way his words couldn’t. his hand moved slowly along your back, a comforting motion that was far different than the turmoil brewing within you. “everything will be fine,” he whispered, his tone firm yet almost pleading. “i promise, it’ll all be fine.”

˚ ༘♡ despite his reassurance, you couldn’t shake the pang of unease in your stomach. his words might have been meant to comfort, but they felt fragile, as though they could shatter under the strain of whatever truths still remained hidden.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, his hand gently tilting your chin until your eyes met his. his gaze was steady, filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “i want to spend my life with you. to get married, have a family…”

˚ ༘♡ a shaky laugh escaped through your tears, a fragile moment of relief breaking through the tension. “alright,” you said softly, wiping at your damp cheeks. “let’s start with something simple. how about we go get something to eat?” your fingers brushed against his tired, weathered face, tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his features. “you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in days,” you added with a small smile.

˚ ༘♡ sang woo’s lips curved upward, faint but genuine. “that sounds good,” he replied, his voice carrying a gentleness that was almost unfamiliar after everything.

a/n: i thought sang-woo wouldn’t tell his girlfriend about the squid game, with how concerned he is with maintaining a perfect reputation. let me know if you have any other requests! 🤍

[sensationallysangwoo]

𝙱𝚊𝚍 𝙸𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍!𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙵𝙵

𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚢, 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚜.

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗! 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃, 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃, 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕, 𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚅𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚄𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙳𝚒𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎, 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚝𝙳𝚘𝚖!𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘, 𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙰𝚐𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚙 (𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙰 𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙳𝚄𝙻𝚃)

**𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚛: 𝙼𝚒𝚗-𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Take that off. You’re dressed like a complete hoe. Why do you feel the need to show yourself off to everyone huh? I’ve never seen someone so desperate for attention. Go change now or I’m not taking your ass out.”

Your head hangs low at the words of your asshole husband, Min-joon. You’re wearing a dress you just bought the other day. You loved it on yourself in the fitting room, you really did. You felt so confident and sexy gazing at yourself in the mirror, and now, that’s all shot down due to your insecure, good-for-nothing, narcissistic husband.

Min-joon comes from a privileged background. His father is a CEO of a real estate company, and spoiled his son absolutely rotten since day 1. Min-joon never held a job and is, well, a nepo baby. At first, the relationship was okay. He complimented you, took you on nice expensive dates, held the door for you, and put on the facade of caring about you. He had you fooled for quite some time.

The two of you married due to familial pressure. He’s handsome, loaded, and could easily provide for you for life. Your mother told you it was a no-brainer and, aforementioned, he treated you alright.

However, as the two of you settled into married life, things became…sour. You noticed Min-joon would throw little digs at you here and there. “Was your stomach always that pudgy?” “I can’t go out with you with that zit on your forehead. That’s humiliating.” “You’re going to eat all of that?” Are just a few examples.

These digs evolved into full-blown arguments. Tears, stress, anxiety attacks, feelings of hopelessness and just overall a cloud of dread hanging over you any time you were inside your own home with him present.

He began to withdraw from you entirely. Barely speaking to you. Not even sleeping in the same bed as you. No hugs. No kisses. No intimacy in almost a year. It’s like you don’t even exist to him. You cook, you clean, and you do his laundry. That’s it. You’re an unpaid, live-in maid.

Bring it back to the present. Red-faced, you snap back at him. “I’ll wear whatever the fuck I want, Min-joon. K? This is the first date we’ve even attempted to go on in almost a year and you’re starting shit. I’ll just go my damn self!”

“What the fuck ever. Go be a fucking slob in some gross dive bar, I don’t care. You can go pick up some grungy guy and catch something. Have fun.” He spits back before turning on his heel and storming into the bedroom.

You grab your purse and stamp out the door, to the car, making sure to grab his credit card on the way out.

Fuck him.

You relish on the harsh words he spoke to you moments earlier, and you tell yourself that Min-joon’s bullshit is well, just bullshit. You’re not an ugly slob. You’re not a hoe for wearing what you feel confident in. You’re beautiful, stunning, sexy and sophisticated.

You’re going to go have fun on his dime without a care in the world.

You pull up to your favorite bar. Not some hoity-toity, high-end country club that you and Shithead frequent. A down-to-Earth, locally owned cozy bar that you have plenty of memories in.

Memories of laughter, smiles, and passionate short-lived flings that felt like a roller coaster ride. Happier times.

Speaking of flings, as soon as your walk through the doorway, you instantly lay eyes on him.

Cho Sang-woo.

He’s seated at the bartop, whiskey on the rocks in one hand, cigarette in the other. A grey blazer hugs his body as his glasses sit on his perfectly shaped nose.

The memories flood back into your mind. Suddenly it’s 4 years ago. You hadn’t even known Min-joon at this time.

It’s 12a.m., and you’re stumbling clumsily out of this very bar on Cho Sang-woo’s arm. You’re laughing loudly and the older man chuckles deeply. Some stupid drunken joke you made. You knew neither of you were okay to drive, but you needed somewhere a bit more private to unleash the tension that’s been plaguing the two of you all night.

The backseat of his little black sedan. Strong, veiny hands wander under your shirt. Soft lips crash onto yours, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his tongue mingling with the remnants of a fruity cocktail on yours.

Fingertips tangled in hair, skin on skin, blurry vision and vertigo. Moans and gasps and magnificent highs. More cigarettes and post-sex deep conversations.

You woke up on your best friend’s couch the very next day, and Cho Sang-woo was nothing but a memory.

He slurred his name to you that night, before shoving his tongue down your throat. You never exchanged phone numbers though. You searched high and low for him on social media but he definitely doesn’t have any, as he is pushing 50. He hasn’t left your mind these past 4 years. These past 4, unhappy years you’ve been yearning for the older man whose presence felt like home.

Here he is, about 10 feet away from you right this very moment. Same exact bar. Same way he was sitting back then, when you first saw him, too. Deja vu at its finest.

Your heart is beating in your neck. Should you walk up to him? Say hello? Should you act like a complete stranger? Or should you remind him of 4 years ago? His dark eyes lock with yours from across the room before you can even select an option.

Swallowing thickly, you walk over to him, zig-zagging through the noisy socializing bar patrons scattered about. As you get closer, the corners of his mouth upturn ever so slightly. That shy, barely-there smile of his never fails to make your heart flutter.

“Hey, you. What are you doing here? Haven’t seen you in a minute.” He says coolly. You can see a spark in his eyes, though. That stoicism of his is all a facade.

You swallow thickly. “I just…wanted to get out. That’s all.” You stammer, feeling small in his presence. You forgot how damn intimidating he is up close.

“Married now, huh?” He points to your left hand with a free finger, his other digits pinching the burning cigarette he’s been puffing on.

“Yeah….I can’t even believe you remember me. I mean…it’s been so long…” You trail off.

He takes a puff before pushing his glasses up. “How could I forget you? Back to that ring though. You happy?”

You couldn’t even change the subject. He’s dying for an answer. He gently sucks on his straw, waiting for your response. You know exactly what he’s trying to do.

You sigh. “To be honest with you, no. Not one bit.” You confess as you slink onto the stool next to his.

And here comes your internal struggle. You are a good hearted person. You’ve always been faithful to Min-joon despite his mistreatment of you because you simply don’t believe in cheating. You’ve always been dependable and held your word to everyone and anyone. But if someone is verbally abusing you day-in and day-out, then why should you remain faithful? The relationship is already tainted. Your mental tug-of-war is interrupted by Sang-woo passing the cigarette to you.

You take a drag, your heart fluttering at the thought of his lips being on that cigarette, too. “Okay so you’re not happy. So why are you with him? You know divorce exists, right?” He asks, inquisitively raising his brows.

“I’m just too…comfortable…I guess. I haven’t worked since him and I got together. Life is easy physically but mentally—“

“It’s shit. I know Min-joon.” He replies casually while handing the bartender his credit card.

Your eyes widen. “How the fuck do you know Min-joon?”

“Well, correction, I know his father. He finances with Joy Investments. I’ve helped him out before. Real fuckin’ dick. Can’t imagine his son is any better. Hey, thank you.” He nods at the bartender, who just set his next drink down.

“You knew we got married? How?” You inquire, shocked.

“His father was showing us all pictures of your wedding in Greece. Bragging to us all in the office saying that we could never even dream of that. I recognized your face.”

Small world, huh. Small, small world.

“Well that was all for show. He hurts me deeply every single day.” You say matter-of-factly.

A lazy trail of smoke slides out of Sang-woo’s lips. “Does he put his hands on you?”

“No…not yet at least…It’s all verbal abuse.”

“That’s just as bad.”

You can feel Sang-woo’s dark eyes on you, studying you like you’re a bug under a microscope. You’re giving him every answer he’s been dying for these past 4 years.

After hours of conversing, drinking, laughing, and flirting, it’s almost time to wrap it up. The bartender announces last call as patrons start to put on their jackets and clear out. You and Sang-woo are tipsy and his arm has found its way completely around you.

He’s hugging you close, so close you can feel his breath on your jawline. “Let’s go.” He whispers lowly in your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

Your mind flashes to Min-joon one last time. You hate him more than any other human being on this planet, and you’ve come to realize that you are completely, entirely done with him. For good.

“I can’t drive. Neither can you.” Sang-woo slurs. “I’m going to call my buddy to come get us. We’re going back to my place, if that’s okay with you.”

You nod your head almost too eagerly, your thoughts going a thousand miles an hour imagining what will happen when you arrive there.

“Hyung! How are you? And who’s this lovely lady?” Seong Gi-hun asks excitedly, beaming at his best friend and you.

“Doing well tonight, hyung. This is an old friend of mine, we know each other from a few years ago. I think I told you about her? Remember?” Sang-woo replies.

Gi-hun’s smile dramatically drops, his lips twisting and his brow furrowing as he struggles to remember. “Hm, I don’t recall. Well, nice to meet you again!”

You two duck into Gi-hun’s back seat as Sang-woo slips him some cash.

The three of you laugh and mingle on the way there, and finally you arrive at Sang-woo’s apartment. You stumble out of Gi-hun’s car, thanking him for the ride, as he smiles widely once more and gives Sang-woo a sly thumbs-up.

You two make your way up to the 2nd floor, Sang-woo’s arm wrapped around you the entire time. As soon as his front door shuts behind you, he instantly pulls you in for a kiss.

You don’t hesitate one bit. His large hand is resting on the back of your head as his other hand is on your bottom. Your arms are around his neck, hungrily smashing your lips against his.

His lips are soft and supple and his kisses are full of passion. Your tongues slip and slide against each other before you both realize you need to breathe.

Sang-woo pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours with a content sigh. “Do you want this? If not we can stop here. I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Sang-woo…you’re all I’ve ever wanted after all these years. I want you again, just like back then.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He picks you up, carrying you to his room. You’re too focused on the moment to take in the appearance of his living space. Normally you’d be picking out the details, but right now you want him and only him. Like you two are the last human beings on this Earth.

He gets on top of you, kissing you deeply once more before moving down to your next. He slowly licks and bites the sensitive skin, causing you to moan softly.

“You look beautiful tonight, my dear. However I must take this off, if that’s okay.” He breathes against your skin making every hair on your body stand up.

You nod, tangling a hand in his dark hair. He slowly peels your dress off and gently places it on the floor. He gently wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking gently, looking up at you to ensure you’re enjoying this.

Muted moans escape your lips as his warm mouth engulfs the sensitive skin of your breasts.

He kisses down your stomach until he reaches your pussy. His tongue gently laps at your clit. Your face burns red hot at the sight of him. He’s so, so fucking handsome. He maintains eye contact with you, silently seeking approval. You breathe out his name as he pleasures you. Your fingers are gently tugging at his hair as his tongue gingerly prods at your entrance. He’s soaking in the sight of you as well, lost in your beauty.

Your sweet moans are music to his ears. “L-lay down.” You choke out.

Sang-woo hesitantly stops eating you out and takes his pants off. He lays down like you told him too, and you position yourself between his legs.

You slowly rub his member through his boxers, eliciting a groan from him.

You slide them off of him and your eyes scan his cock. You didn’t quite get a good look at it 4 years ago since you hooked up in the darkness of his backseat.

It’s about 7 inches with a blush pink tip, oozing tiny droplets of precum from his excitement. You gulp before you take the tip in your mouth, sucking gently and softly. He moans lowly, his fingers finding their way to your scalp.

You become more confident as you sink your mouth further and further down his cock. You suck and teasingly swirl your tongue around the shaft. You look up at him and he’s completely lost in the sensations. “Mmm. You’re doing fucking amazing, pretty girl. Look at that face, you’re gorgeous.” He coos, stroking your full cheek gently.

You moan around his dick at the praise. You slide your mouth off of his dick for just a second, taking a little break. You lick from the base to the tip, causing him to shiver.

He grabs your chin between his pointer finger and his thumb. “Do you want me inside of you, angel?” He asks sweetly. You nod as he slips his thumb into your mouth.

You lay back down and he lines himself up with your pussy. “Last time we did this, it was a sloppy hookup. This time, I want to make love to you, sweetheart. Just relax.” He says, looking at you softly.

He slowly pushes his tip into you as your hole stretches. The feelings of pressure and slight discomfort are only temporary as pleasure follows shortly thereafter. He slids in all the way as you moan his name. “Sang-woo…”

He moans, too. His deep voice sounding angelic as you squeeze his dick perfectly. He slowly starts thrusting. Deep, long strokes that hit your cervix just right. With both of your chests heaving and your hearts hammering, your bodies connect in the most intimate way.

His dick fits perfectly in you. Your walls clench and tingle with pleasure as he fucks you passionately. He leans down and kisses you again, this time moaning into each other’s mouths. “I’ll bet you that so-called husband of yours hasn’t ever fucked you like this, hm, doll?”

“No-ah-he hasn’t. I’ve-ah-never ever felt this good before.” You moan as he pounds you harder. You both are blinded by the pleasure.

He smiles cockily. “He doesn’t deserve you, angel. You need a real man to take care of you and fuck you.”

He flips you around so you’re on your hands and knees. He slams into you from the back, gently grabbing your throat, holding it. Not choking you, but just as a sign of possessiveness.

He plows you from the back, his dick feeling deeper than ever at this angle. You swear you can feel him in your stomach. It almost hurts. You explode internally, your whole body tensing as your own climax rips through your body. You cry out, gripping the bedsheets and saying Sang-woo’s name over and over as if it were a prayer.

“Where do you want my cum, lovey?” He slams into you harder than ever, chasing his orgasm.

“In my mouth.” You say, your voice laced with satisfaction. You can’t chance him cumming inside you just yet.

He pulls out and you eagerly swallow his dick in your mouth again. You lewdly taste your own juices as you suck his dick passionately, wanting to give him the best climax he’s ever had. With a loud moan of your name and his strong hand on the back of your head, his cum coats the inside of your mouth and throat. You swallow eagerly and obediently, savoring the salty yet plain flavor.

You both feel as satisfied as ever. In the air, lust isn’t the only feeling that lingers. There’s love, care, and passion accompanying it.

You both sober up from the drinks and your sexual highs. The night progresses on and you’re snuggled up laying on Sang-woo’s bare chest as he puff’s on a cigarette. His other arm is wrapped protectively around you.

You pull out your phone and check your messages. “Has that fuckin’ asshole said anything to you?” Sang-woo asks, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Nope. He doesn’t give a fuck about me.”

“Give me your phone for a sec. I have an idea.” He has a devious twinkle in his eye and a shit eating grin.

“Okay…..” You reply suspiciously as you hand him the device.

He quickly opens the camera app, flips it to front-facing, and deviously commands you to “Smile!”

The flash of white floods both of your faces. You’re doing more than smiling, you’re actively laughing in the photo. Sang-woo has a coy smirk on his face.

You’re both clearly naked in the photo, making it obvious what the two of you had just done. He selects your chat with Min-joon, attaches the selfie, and captions it with “She’s mine now, asshole.”

You hear the familiar “boop” sound effect of the message going through. Your phone begins to absolutely blow up with texts and calls from Min-joon, but you don’t give even half of a fuck. You power off your phone. The two of you are absolutely laughing your asses off.

You and Sang-woo are giddy and in love. You throw your arms around his neck, kissing him once more.

A week has passed, and you’ve packed up all your stuff into your car. Min-joon has been served divorce papers, and he is legally not allowed to even be in the same vicinity as you. This chapter of your life is over. You’ve come to realize that you can absolutely meet the right person at the wrong time. However, the right time will come, sooner or later.

One year later, you strut out of yours and Sang-woo’s shared bedroom. You’re dolled up in a dress for date night. “You look so sexy, my princess. So beautiful and gorgeous. Turn around.” Sang-woo gawks. Your mind flashes back to Min-joon’s hateful comments. You couldn’t be more grateful for the complete 180 that your life took.

Sang-woo kisses you, takes your hand, and leads you out the door for another memorable date night, followed by an even more memorable proposal.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Well there ya have it! Hope you loved it, Anon! Sorry it’s kinda a longer one! I’ll be working on the next request! Have a good night everyone! 🫶🖤 -G

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @trashk1tty , @torasgfreal , @dilfismz , @pulparindos , @reddead-salem , @daeholuvs , @radarbiterlover , @partyb0yyyy , @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen , @sawlover353 , @m4nbl00d , @swtt4hk , @shoujoify , @chosangwooswife

[carnalcrows]

satin

genre: smut

pairing: sang-woo x male!reader

CW: unprotected sex, cum as lube, somnophilia, slight-dubcon, feminization, anal sex, creampie, breeding, gaslighting, reader wears a dress (above image), the term [y/n] is not used

word count: 1.1k

The dining hall glimmered with cold grandeur, the pristine white tablecloths and shining silverware at odds with the blood-stained memories of the glass bridge. The four of you—Sang-woo, Gi-hun, Sae-byeok, and yourself—sat around the table, silently picking at the extravagant meal.

Sang-woo’s gaze kept drifting to you, and you could feel it like a weight pressing against your skin. You didn’t dare look up, too focused on cutting into the steak on your plate.

The dress.

The satin clung to you in ways that made Sang-woo’s throat dry, the slit revealing just enough of your thigh to drive him to distraction. It had been Sae-byeok’s dress originally, stark white against the deep hues of her bruises, but she’d been visibly uncomfortable in it. You had offered to switch, slipping into it with a shrug and a teasing grin, downplaying how strangely empowering it felt.

Now, Sang-woo could barely focus on the food in front of him. The cut of the fabric, the way it rose slightly when you shifted, the curve of your collarbone illuminated by the dim lighting—it was torture.

“You’re not eating much,” Gi-hun said, raising an eyebrow at Sang-woo.

Sang-woo’s jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the fork a little too hard. “Just not hungry.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sae-byeok muttered under her breath, her sharp eyes flicking between him and you. Gi-hun smothered a laugh with his napkin.

Sang-woo shot them both a warning glare but said nothing, focusing instead on finishing his wine in a single, sharp gulp.

The night wore on, and eventually, you all returned to the living quarters. The empty bunks and the echoes of the fallen competitors made the space feel colder, lonelier. Gi-hun and Sae-byeok whispered in hushed tones at one end of the room, their conversation punctuated by the occasional chuckle.

You, however, wandered to the farthest corner, away from the others. The dress, though elegant, wasn’t designed for comfort, and you tugged at the hem as you curled up on one of the bunks. The fabric rode up your legs as you shifted, exposing more skin than you intended. Exhaustion quickly overtook you, and you drifted off.

Sang-woo returned from the bathroom, his steps quiet on the concrete floor. His gaze scanned the room, landing first on Gi-hun and Sae-byeok, who were still deep in conversation, then on you.

His breath caught.

The way the dress hugged your body, the faint rise and fall of your chest as you slept—it was intoxicating. His feet moved on their own, carrying him closer to where you lay.

He stopped a few steps away, his heart pounding as his eyes traced the length of your legs, the hem of the dress barely covering anything. You shifted in your sleep, and the fabric rode up higher, revealing more of your thighs.

Sang-woo’s jaw clenched. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the sharp pull of desire mixed with guilt. He told himself to walk away, to stop staring, but he couldn’t.

He crouched down, his hand hesitating in the air for a moment before brushing his fingers across your exposed thigh. His fingers lingered for a fraction of a second too long, the soft texture of your skin sending a jolt through him.

“You shouldn’t tempt people like this,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.

His hands travelled farther and farther up your dress until they reached the hem of your underwear. He had to stop; he had come too far. But as he pulled your boxers down, the whimper that escaped your mouth due to the cool air hitting your inner thighs – sealed your fate.

He hoped to God that Gi-hun and Sae-byok were well out of earshot, and he slowly pushed his pants down, revealing his throbbing erection.

He pushed your thighs together, and slowly slid his length between them. The tightness of the gap made him let out a groan, which he quickly stifled. He shouldn’t wake you up.

He thrust in and out slowly, with his cock often rubbing against your own length. You on the other hand, twisted and turned, oblivious of what was happening to you.

As Sang-woo reached his climax, he couldn’t help but let out a rather loud groan, releasing on your thighs with a shudder.

You stirred at the sound, your lashes fluttering open. Your eyes met his, bleary with sleep and lust  but quickly sharpening with awareness.

“Sang-woo?” you murmured, your voice soft and hoarse.

He froze, caught in the act. But instead of backing away, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your cheek.

“You make it hard to focus,” he admitted, his voice low and rough.

Your lips quirked into a small, sleepy smile. “Good.” The stickiness on your thighs said enough. You were too far gone to think about the sanity of the situation.

The glazed look in your eyes did something to the man. He hoisted your legs up in a way that his cock was resting right at your ass. Before you could protest, he slowly slid his tip in, making your head hit the pillow. “Wait– what about lube-” you gasped, only to be interrupted by him slamming his entire length into you.

You shuddered, you were stretched beyond your capacity, but it felt so… good? He was slowly rocking in and out of you, while your hands desperately clutched the pillows, trying to redirect the pain elsewhere.

He brought your knees to your chest, eliciting a squeal from you. Your hand quickly went to cover your mouth. What if the other two had heard you? 

“Honestly, what did you expect? You walk around in that tight dress of your’s, swaying your hips for everyone to see. You thought I wouldn’t notice?” To this you could only mumble out incoherent words behind the palm of you hand, the new angle making his cock hit your sweet spot with every single thrust. 

“Pleas–se, slow down–”, you whimpered, to which he only chuckled. “Learn to take it, you whore. It’s your fault for walking around in this dress and thinking that no one wants this tight pussy of yours.”

Calling your ass a pussy igniting something inside of you. Noticing this, Sang-woo sped up his thrusts, whispering the dirtiest things in your ear. He removed one hand from your ankle, and brought it to your cock, slowly jerking it off, much slower to his cock pistoning in and out of your hole.

“I’m gonna–”,” I know darling, come with me”, he groaned, as both of you climaxed at the same time. You ruined your pretty dress, while he stained your insides white.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, catching his breath, before slowly pulling out of you, before shifting your positions do that you were on top of him.

You slowly closed your eyes, sleep embracing you all over again.

Meanwhile, across the room, Gi-hun  nudged Sae-byok, his expression unreadable. “Told you he’s obsessed,” he muttered, earning a grunt from the latter.

“I’m scared of gay people.”

“You’re just saying that because your girlfriend died.”

“Shut up.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.

[catchastarorten]

—A long day.

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x wife!fem!reader

Summary: being a professor at the same university your husband taught at was exhausting at times, but at least he knew how to comfort you... that was until a student walked in to ask you a question about an assignment.

Content: fluff, you two are both professors in this au, kisses/neck kisses, making out, caresses, an unlucky student unfortunately walking in on the two of you, English isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word Count: ~ 1.4k

The classroom was quiet now, emptied of students and the hum of chatter that had filled it just hours ago. It had been a long day of lectures, discussions, and endless paperwork. The only sound was the scratch of your pen against a stack of papers that seemed never-ending.

Your head ached slightly from the day, eyes burning from reading through assignment after assignment. You were so caught up in your work that you didn’t notice when someone entered the room.

It was the warm pressure around your waist that made you still, your breath catching for just a second. The familiar scent of him—clean, crisp cologne with the faintest hint of coffee—settled around you, and before you could turn to look, his fingers gently traced along your hip, caressing you in slow, deliberate strokes.

You exhaled slowly after seeing him, running a tired hand down your face. “You scared me.”

Sang-woo hummed lowly, and you swore you saw a rare hint of amusement in his eyes. His hold on you tightened just slightly, his warm body hovering behind yours. “You were too focused. Didn’t even hear me walk in.”

You leaned back into him instinctively, his warmth comforting against the cool air of the empty classroom. “Mmm... maybe because I’m exhausted.”

“I figured,” he murmured, his voice smooth, soft. His hands slowly traced along your waist before settling against your hips again, grounding you. “Long day?”

You let out a small sigh, finally setting down your pen. “The longest. I swear, every student had a question after class today. And half of them didn’t even need to stay. They just wanted to chat.”

His lips curled into a small smile. “You’re too nice to them.”

“They’re still just kids,” you shrugged, though you couldn’t hide the tired smile that tugged at your lips. “Besides, if I don’t help them, who will?”

He sighed, and you felt him shift behind you, his hands moving up to your shoulders, kneading them gently.

“That’s exactly why you run yourself into the ground.” His thumbs pressed into a particularly sore spot, making you hum softly. “You need to take breaks.”

You reached up, covering one of his hands with yours. “I know.”

“You say that,” he started, fingers still working against your tense muscles. “But here you are, still at your desk after hours, barely aware of your surroundings.”

“I was grading,” you defended, though you knew it was a weak argument.

You turned to look up at Sang-woo fully—dark eyes watching you intently, a quiet concern hidden beneath the usual composed expression he wore so well.

“You look tired,” he said, softer this time.

You sighed. “I feel tired.”

He studied you for a moment before his hands shifted, one sliding up from your waist to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, warm and reassuring. He tilted his head just slightly, eyes flickering between yours before he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips—just a soft press at first, barely there. “Then relax.”

You huffed a quiet laugh but said nothing, closing your eyes briefly as he stroked his thumbs along your skin. It was so easy to sink into him, to let go of the stress clinging to your bones when he touched you like this.

When you opened your eyes again, his gaze was softer than before, his face so close that his breath brushed against your lips.

The moment stretched, anticipation curling through you, before he kissed you again—deeper this time, slower, as if he had all the time in the world.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go far, his forehead brushing against yours. “Let’s go home,” he murmured, as if he was making a statement, not a question.

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

His lips barely curved. “I figured you’d say that.”

“Mm.” You smiled a little. “But maybe I can be convinced.”

Before you could find a reaction from his face, he kissed you again, deeper this time, more deliberate. His lips moved slowly against yours, unhurried yet insistent, as if savoring the taste of you.

Your fingers found the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric lightly as you kissed him back, letting yourself sink into the feeling of him.

When you shifted, pressing closer, his back met the board behind him with a quiet thud, a quiet muffled noise came from his lips. His hands wandered, sliding over your waist, your back, pulling you just a little closer as your mouths moved together in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

The collar of his neatly buttoned shirt was slightly askew now, the usual composure he carried beginning to unravel in the way his breath grew heavier, in the way his hands roamed with a little less restraint.

When he finally broke away from your lips, his mouth found your jaw, then lower, pressing slow, deliberate kisses down your neck. His lips were warm, the press of them making your breath stutter as his fingers traced lazy patterns along your back.

Before you realized it, he was guiding you, his touch gentle but sure, until your back met the edge of your desk. He lifted you onto it effortlessly, stepping between your legs and barely breaking the kiss.

He wasn’t rushing—he never did. Instead, he took his time with each kiss, each touch. His fingers slid to your hips as he pulled you even closer, lips never leaving yours for too long.

You were wrapped up in him as you sat on the edge of your desk. His lips trailed away from yours again, tracing a path of featherlight kisses down your neck.

You exhaled, tilting your head slightly to give him more room, your fingers threading through his hair. His breath was warm against your skin, his hands steady as they held you close.

And then—

“U-Um—Professor?”

The voice cut through the room like a knife.

You and Sang-woo froze.

Your head turned toward the doorway, where a student stood wide-eyed, gripping a notebook tightly to their chest as if it was a shield.

The poor thing looked like they had just walked in on something they definitely should not have seen.

You reacted first, pulling back quickly and clearing your throat as heat rushed to your face, shifting off of the desk easily. Sang-woo straightened as well, adjusting his collar and stepping back just enough to create a more appropriate distance between you.

The student, clearly horrified, looked between the two of you as if trying to process exactly what they had interrupted. “I—um—I just had a question about the assignment, but I can—come back later!”

You waved a hand, trying to compose yourself despite the very obvious tension lingering in the air. “No... no, it’s fine! What’s your question?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sang-woo trying—and fumbling—to button up the collar of his shirt, running a hand over his slightly ruffled hair before slipping back into his usual composed demeanor.

The student hesitated, clearly dying to flee but also too dedicated to their grades to abandon the reason they had come in. “...It’s about the essay. The word count requirement—uh—do quotes count toward it?”

You cleared your throat again, pushing some loose hair behind your ear in an attempt to gather yourself. “Yes, they do, but try not to rely too heavily on them. Your analysis should still be the main focus.”

The student nodded quickly, still looking like they were processing the absolute disaster they had just walked into. “R-Right! Got it! Thank you, Professor! I’ll just—um—I’ll go now!”

And before you could say anything else, they spun on their heels and bolted out of the room.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, you turned to see your husband failing to hide a smile.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Why didn’t we lock the door?”

Sang-woo let out a quiet exhale, stepping closer again. “A lesson learned.” He leaned in, pressing one last kiss—soft and lingering—against your forehead before murmuring, “I'm assuming we could go home now.”

With your heart still racing and your face still warm, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah… yeah, okay. I’m done for the day.”

Hopefully that student still shows up tomorrow for your class?