#the frontman x y/n

[bruhstories]

Bet II

p.1 here & p3. here & p.4 here & p.5 here & p.6 here

summary: it's your first day as a cat sitter and things are going more than well. but will they stay that way? pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan w/c: 2.2k

a/n: hiii, this is pretty much reader's pov, but don't worry, we'll see things through in-ho's eyes in chapter 3! if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post.

You woke up at five in the morning on the first day of your temporary job. It took you about fifteen minutes to walk to the bus stop, and another fifteen to get to Gangnam-gu by bus, but you needed to prepare breakfast for your uncle first. The last thing you wanted was to anger him. You washed a cup of rice and tossed it in the rice cooker before slicing some pickled radish and a fresh cucumber and carrot. While waiting for the rice to cook, you fried some tofu that you had marinated in gochujang the night before.

Around six you woke your uncle up with the bowl of bibimbap and a cup of freshly brewed coffee, but didn't stay long enough to hear him tell you off about how bad his coffee tasted, or how cold the rice was, all completely false statements. It was just the way your life was since your father passed away and your mother left the country. But you couldn't afford your own place, and you probably wouldn't any time soon, so you took odd jobs to stay away from him and pay his stupid debts.

You made it just in time for Eunjoo's breakfast, stepping through the door at 6:50. There was no cat in sight yet, but the moment you opened the food can, Eunjoo peeked from around the sofa, silently sneaking behind you, apprehensive about rubbing against your leg. She waited next to the water bowl as you scooped the food out and mashed it with the spoon, then bent down to place her plate on the silicone mat on the floor. 

It was only after you got back up that you noticed the mess in Mr. Hwang's penthouse. There were so many dishes in the sink, empty bottles of beer scattered on the dining table, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, takeaway boxes stacked on the countertop, a half-full coffee cup, tissues on the floor. You definitely remembered that his house was clean when you first visited him. Too clean, even, like he suffered from mysophobia. You had a lot to do in that house. And then there was Eunjoo, who, for some reason, refused to eat her breakfast despite sitting patiently next to her ceramic plate, tail curled around her paws.

Panic seeped into your veins as you urged the cat to eat, crouching next to her in hopes that she only needed a little encouragement, but Eunjoo stood her ground. You didn't know what to do, the mess was overwhelming and you frantically paced around the kitchen like a headless hen, not knowing what to do first — wash the dishes, take out the trash, force feed the cat. As though Mr. Hwang could see you, your phone vibrated with a text from him.

Good morning. Sorry about the mess, I had a little gathering last night before my trip. Is everything alright? In-ho 

A little gathering? He had a full-blown party! Maybe it was his birthday, or he had a bachelor party. But the mess wasn't important, Eunjoo was. You quickly saved his number in your contacts list and typed a reply.

Morning! Don't worry about the mess, I'll deal with it later. Eunjoo's not eating, though. Should I take her to the vet? She seems healthy, but I’m worrying.

You waited for his text while sitting on the floor, one hand extended for the cat to sniff it. She did, then went back to her plate, simply looking at you, staring directly into your soul with bright green eyes.

Ding!

Oh, I forgot to mention that she only eats breakfast and dinner when I do. You're going to have to eat something. There's plenty of food in the fridge. 

Well, that changed things. You typically had one meal a day since most of the food back home was eaten by your uncle, and you didn't want to pry into Mr. Hwang's fridge and pantry. Rummaging through your backpack, you found a half-eaten bag of shrimp crackers and shrugged. It was good enough for you if it meant she ate.

"My food." You told Eunjoo while holding the bag, giving it a small shake. "Your food." You pointed at her plate.

As if she could understand your words, Eunjoo turned to her breakfast while you munched on the crackers, nibbling on them slowly to save some for later. God only knew when you could have some more food. When her plate was empty, you twisted the bag of remaining snacks and put it back into your backpack before getting up from the tiled floor. 

"Okay." You told yourself. "First thing's first — scoop the poop."

There were two litter boxes in the penthouse, one in the guest bathroom and one in the en-suite. You checked both without paying much attention to your surroundings, and threw away all the clumps of pee and litter, then turned the TV on to play some music. You started off strong with some upbeat songs, a little rock, a bit of pop. Your father raised you on international music. Queen, in particular, was his favourite band, and so your playlist was full of their songs.

Don't Stop Me Now was perfect for doing the dishes. First, you put away all the dry plates and cutlery before emptying the sink. You didn't even bother trying to turn on the dishwasher, your hands worked better and faster, and with the speed of light, like Freddie Mercury sang, you finished washing all the dishes. Each time you rinsed a plate, you turned the tap off, careful not to waste any water. If there was one good thing about not being rich, it was that you learned to truly care about the environment, and tried your best to fight climate change. But you weren’t perfect. No one was. There were skeletons in your closet.

As the song came to an end, you tackled the takeaway boxes. You found the bin and threw away any leftover bits of food that were inedible, saving the cardboard boxes for recycling, along with the beer bottles. The penthouse was looking better by the minute, and after wiping the table and countertop, vacuuming and mopping the floor, you took your phone out and snapped a picture for Mr. Hwang. 

Kitchen and dining room done!

You pressed send and checked the time — 9:00. Shit, your other job was starting soon. Hastily, you turned the TV off, rinsed Eunjoo's water bowl and filled it with fresh water before checking the automatic feeder. It was still half-full, so you put your shoes on and left with the recyclables and trash bag.

"I'll be back tonight, kitty!"

The bin room was easy to find, and satisfied with the work you did, you went back to Guryong Village, where you taught Ali Abdul and his wife Korean. They couldn't afford to pay you, but when they could, they fed you, and that was all that mattered. It was the only meal you didn't need to share with your uncle, and it was more than enough to keep you going through the day. 

At 12:00 you took two buses to Lotte World, where you worked part-time as a mascot, from one to seven, boiling in the purple bear suit. You didn't mind it when you saw how happy the children were, though. Their smiles and happiness mattered more than how uncomfortable you felt, and on the bright side, it kept you very warm in winter. You had to look for positives, didn't you? Life wouldn't be enjoyable if all you did was focus on the negativity and unfairness of it. And life had been nothing but cruel to you. Yet, you persevered. 

You left the theme park at 7:15 and took the bus back to Gangnam-gu, drenched in sweat. The cold November air made you shiver under the coat as you stepped down the street, making your way to Mr. Hwang's penthouse for the second time that day. Kicking your shoes off, you kept the coat, because the apartment was chilly, and you tried to find the thermostat before feeding Eunjoo. 

Good evening! I hope your trip is going well! It's getting quite cold and I was wondering if I could turn the heating on, more for Eunjoo than for me. 

When there was no reply, you shrugged and opened a can of food, placing the plate on the mat, like you did in the morning, then took out a food container from your bag with leftover chicken karahi from Mrs. Abdul. She was kind enough to give you more, and you took out a plate from Mr. Hwang's kitchen to heat it in the microwave.

Eunjoo ate when you did, as she did in the morning, and you found it interesting that she didn't immediately dig in like your cousin's cat used to do. She had good manners, you thought with a smile. The food warmed you up a bit, and you washed the plate and chopsticks after you were done, but the warmth was soon replaced by a chill running down your spine. You had to start layering up for winter.

Ding!

Good evening, miss. My apologies for not replying quicker, work is hectic. Please turn the heating on and stay the night to make sure Eunjoo is warm.

Oh, that was straightforward. You chuckled at the text, but you couldn't stay the night. Instead, you walked back to the thermostat and searched the brand online to set a timer. You tested it first to make sure it worked, and when it did, you set the heating on every 3 hours. It should be enough for Eunjoo to stay warm. 

I appreciate it, sir, but I can't stay over. My uncle would be upset. I put the timer on and it works, I checked. I'll send you a picture after I scoop the poop and tidy up.

You sent the text and inspected the litter boxes. Eunjoo had the stinkiest poops you had ever sniffed, and as you scooped it out of the box, you couldn't help but talk to her. She was watching you from the corner of the guest bathroom, pupils blown at every movement you made, studying you.

"Girl, this is foul." You laughed, tying up the small bin bag. "Is it even normal for your shit to reek like this?" 

Eunjoo lost interest in you when you were done with her box and ran under the bed in Mr. Hwang's bedroom, while you walked back into the kitchen, dropping the bin bag next to your shoes. You filled a tall glass with water and searched for all the plants in the house, stopping at a small cactus in the living room.

When was the last time you watered the cactus?

Ding!

You got the reply quicker than you expected. It usually took In-ho a few minutes to get back to you, but you read it and laughed.

I don't remember. 

Typical for men to forget, you thought as you watered the plant. 

Ding!

Another text? You took your phone out and read it.

Why would your uncle be upset?

The question soured your mood, and you took a few steps back to sit on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't a subject you liked to talk about. In fact, it was a subject you refused to talk about, but Mr. Hwang had been nothing but kind to you, and you felt like you owed him an explanation. No, you felt compelled to give him an explanation, as though you couldn’t just tell him to mind his business.

He took me in after my dad died. He can be quite strict. It's not that I have to go back home, but if he doesn't have breakfast and a coffee when he wakes up, he'll tell me off.

Okay, so you didn't exactly explain your situation. Mr. Hwang didn't need to know all the details, all the beatings and all the insults, all the money he took from you to pay his debts. But hey, at least you had a roof over your head, right?

You washed Eunjoo's plate and water bowl and left them to dry while sorting out In-ho's laundry — whites with whites, blacks with blacks. There weren’t many colourful clothes, which you thought was normal for a man his age.  You were going to wash them in the morning, but you worked smart and hard, and so you wanted them to be ready for the next day. Loading the machine with the whites, you made sure Eunjoo didn't sneak in it and closed the door, then took a shower in the guest bathroom. 

Just as you promised, you brought your own soap and towel, and let the hot water wash away the dirt and dust accumulated throughout the day. It felt good not having to boil water to wash yourself, and you made a mental note to thank Mr. Hwang somehow when he returned from his trip. Perhaps you could cook him a meal and buy a new toy for Eunjoo, although she didn’t seem very playful, at least not when you were around. Stepping out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your body, you took a moment to enjoy being able to walk around half-naked with no one to disturb you. 

Thank you for letting me take a shower. Eunjoo is sleeping, the plants have been watered, and I’m ready to go home. Good night, Mr. Hwang!

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @nomugglesallowed @awekbachira @hobiesbrowngf @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair

i hope i didn't miss anyone or tagged the wrong people lmaooo

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

If you’re interested, here’s more fluff! Calling the Squid Game men some weird petnames and their reaction to it!

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an “yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ gods and monsters ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x wife!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!

˚ ༘♡ you cherished your husband, your family, and the life you had created together. hwang in-ho was a man of contradictions, capable of immense love and devotion. he treated you with such care, as though you were the most precious thing in his world. his adoration was tangible in every gesture, every lingering glance. yet beneath that tenderness was a darkness you struggled to reconcile. this same man, who held your hand with precious affection, was also the masked overseer of the squid game, a series of merciless challenges where the desperate competed, often at the cost of their lives, for a staggering cash prize.

˚ ༘♡ you could never truly fathom it. the man who pressed sweet kisses to your forehead at night was the same monster who orchestrated a spectacle of death and suffering. he claimed no pleasure in it, but the mere fact of his involvement unsettled you. the gleaming black mask, the command he held over every horrific detail, it was a world so far removed from the comfort of your home, yet it belonged to him all the same.

˚ ༘♡ only once had he asked if you wished to attend, to see what he called “his other life.” the question had terrified you to your core, your lips parting in silent dismay. you hadn’t needed to answer. the way your expression shifted, the way fright and disapproval glared across your pallid face, was enough. he never brought it up again, never risked shattering the fragile balance he had created between his two identities.

˚ ༘♡ you were a mother to a healthy three-year-old son, who filled your days with laughter and energy, and you were carrying another child, though you had yet to tell your husband. the news remained a quiet secret, one you turned over in your mind during the solitude of the evening. it wasn’t fear of his reaction that kept you silent. hwang in-ho adored his family, there was no question of that, but the thought of bringing another life into the shadow of the games unsettled you.

˚ ༘♡ you tried to focus on being the woman you wanted to be, a loving mother, a supportive partner. in many ways, you succeeded. you tucked your son in every night with whispered stories and soft lullabies, kept your home warm and welcoming, and met your husband’s gaze with as much love as you could muster, even when doubts crept into the corners of your mind.

˚ ༘♡ when your worries became too much to bear, he would sense it, always. he would take your hands in his, his voice calm, his tone measured. “think of me as two men,” he would say, his words a plea for understanding. “there is hwang in-ho, your husband, your partner, the father of our children. and then there is the front man, a role i play, a mask i wear.”

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to believe him, to hold on to the idea that the man who kissed you tenderly each morning could be separate from the one who orchestrated so much pain. but no matter how you tried to comprehend it, there were nights when the thought of who he was beyond your shared walls kept you awake, your heart aching with questions you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

˚ ༘♡ you tried with all your might to separate the two sides of the man you loved, the front man and your husband, hwang in-ho. but when he told you he wouldn’t be able to contact you during this year’s games, the delicate balance you had worked so hard to maintain crumbled. the weight of his words refused to settle, tearing at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to simply let it go.

˚ ༘♡ “every year, you’ve managed to visit after the game for the day. what’s different this time?” you asked, your voice trembling with desperation.

˚ ༘♡ at first, he deflected, his tone dismissive as if your concerns were unwarranted. but as your worry grew, it became impossible for him to ignore. the strain in your expression, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, it was enough to wear him down. even your son had begun to notice, his small hands tugging at your sleeve, his innocent eyes filled with confusion at the tension that filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ with a frustrated sigh, in-ho finally relented. his hand enveloped yours, warm and steady against your trembling fingers. “i will be there this year,” he admitted, his voice hushed and measured. “as a player.”

˚ ༘♡ the words sent a chill through you, and your breath caught in your throat. “what? why?” you asked, your disbelief slicing through the tension.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze locked onto yours. “there is someone returning to the games this year,” he began, his tone careful. “a former player, a winner in fact. he’s likely to cause complications, and… i can’t deny the intrigue of watching him. this year will be different. i’ve decided to stay close by instead of observing from a distance.”

˚ ༘♡ fury and agony surged within you, and your hands shook as you lightly struck his chest, the beating driven by hysteria. “you idiot!” you yelled. “you can’t guarantee you’ll be safe! have you even thought about your family? what about our son?”

˚ ༘♡ he caught your wrist gently, his grip cautious, his face softening as he pulled you closer. “i will not be in danger,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “i promise you that.”

˚ ༘♡ still, his assurance wasn’t enough. it didn’t stop the knot in your stomach from tightening or the ache in your chest from growing far more intense. the words you spoke next tumbled out before you had a chance to think them through. “if that’s true, then you won’t have any problem with me coming along!”

˚ ༘♡ the declaration hung in the air, sharp and sudden. even you were startled by it, your heart pounding in your chest as the misery of your demand settled between you. fear and anger had driven you to say it, but now it was too late to take it back. you searched his face for a reaction, your pulse racing.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t speak such nonsense again," he said firmly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room. "you have our son to think about. i am going, and i’ll return in a week. this is final."

˚ ༘♡ “no!” you shot back, the tremor in your voice betraying your growing panic. “if you’re going, then i’m coming with you. you told me it’s safe.” your eyes darted toward your son, who had long fallen asleep, blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding. a wave of guilt swept over you, tightening your throat. “he can stay with the household staff for a week. do you think i could take care of him properly while i’m sick with worry about you?”

˚ ༘♡ his brow furrowed, the sharp lines of irritation creasing his weary face. “you’re being unreasonable,” he said, his voice hard, though it faltered slightly as he began pacing the room. each step was measured, purposeful, as though he were trying to walk away from the argument itself. “this is dangerous enough without you there complicating things.”

˚ ༘♡ “and you’re being infuriating,” you countered, your tone rising as desperation overtook your earlier composure. “do you think I’d forgive myself if something happened to you while i stayed here and did nothing? you’re asking too much of me.” your voice cracked, the weight of your despair spilling into the room.

˚ ༘♡ the argument carried on into the late hour, a nightmare of clashing scorn and unresolved fears. he tried to dismiss you, to shut you down with reason, but you refused to back down. your agony, raw and untamed, eventually drove you to the brink. “if you go without me, i’ll leave,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’ll take our son, and i’ll leave.”

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was deafening. he froze, his gaze snapping to yours, searching your face for the truth. you hated the lie, the hollowness of your own threat, but it was all you had left. leaving him wasn’t something you could ever do, but the thought of him walking into danger alone was unbearable.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the burden of his dilemma. “fine,” he said at last, his voice clipped and low. “if you’re coming, then there are conditions… rules that have to be carefully followed.”

˚ ༘♡ your relief was immediate but short-lived as his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. “what conditions?” you asked, your voice softer now, cautious.

˚ ༘♡ “we’ll need to use false identities," he explained, his tone deliberate, each word chosen with care. "to everyone involved, we’re strangers. no one can know who we are, not even that we’re connected."

˚ ༘♡ the practicality of his demand sent a shiver down your spine, even as you nodded in agreement. the idea of pretending he was nothing more than a stranger felt unnatural, wrong, but you couldn’t argue. “i understand,” you murmured, though the knot in your stomach tightened with every passing second.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as though considering whether you truly grasped what you were stepping into. when he finally looked away, you felt no sense of victory, only the forthcoming horror of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ the games were set to begin in exactly one week, and each passing day left you feeling more unsettled. every time your husband pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered beneath the surface, making it difficult to fully surrender to his warmth. though you tried to find comfort in his presence, the thought of what lay ahead clouded every shared moment.

˚ ༘♡ you had entrusted your son to the most reliable and loyal members of the household staff, ensuring that he would be cared for in your absence. you also took great care to conceal any sign of your pregnancy. if in-ho discovered the truth, he would never allow you to join him, and staying behind was not an option you could accept.

˚ ༘♡ he had laid out the plan with meticulous precision. the two of you would arrive after the chaos of the first game, red light, green light. as he explained it, a large portion of the participants would undoubtedly be eliminated once they grasped the deadly reality of the games. the aftermath of that horror would provide cover for your entrance, allowing you to integrate without raising suspicion.

˚ ༘♡ your husband would take on the identity of player 001, an unassuming participant with no visible ties to you. your alias would be player 077, your stories carefully crafted to fit the narrative. his fabricated reason for joining the games was both haunting and ironic, he claimed he needed money for his pregnant wife. when he first told you this, a wave of panic washed over you, thinking he might have discovered your secret. but as you studied his expression, his calm demeanor revealed no hint of realization.

˚ ༘♡ for your feigned story, he decided you would play the role of a young woman drowning in debt, struggling to pay off the burdens left behind by your late father. the lie felt strangely fitting, yet it unsettled you all the same. every detail he crafted for your cover seemed so calculated, so detached, it was as though he had rehearsed this for far longer than he let on. this game of life and death was nothing more than a facade for him.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded along as he explained the plan, his voice unwavering. though the words were spoken with care, they failed to soothe the growing tension within you. each step of the plan felt cold, clinical, designed to strip away any sense of the life you shared outside these games. with every passing day, the distance between hwang in-ho, your husband, and the front man became more glaring, and you wondered if you could truly separate the two when it mattered most.

˚ ༘♡ you knelt by your son’s bedside, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. his small hand clung to your finger, and for a vanishing moment, you felt the crushing weight of guilt threaten to undo you. you whispered promises you weren’t sure you could keep, telling him you would be back soon, that everything would be fine. as his breathing slowed in sleep, you lingered a minute longer, memorizing the curve of his face and the delicate skin of his tiny hand before slipping away with your husband.

˚ ༘♡ the player uniforms were a tight, oppressive reminder of the role you had agreed to take on. the white and forest-green fabric felt rough against your skin, the stitched numbers, 001 on him, 077 on you, marking you both as part of this wicked charade. the air between you was dense with unspoken tension as you followed his lead into the heart of the games.

˚ ༘♡ the aftermath of the first game hit you like a physical blow. scarlet-red blood smeared the walls, the metallic stench thick enough to taste. lifeless bodies were being dragged away by masked figures, their uniforms pristine against the carnage. your stomach churned violently, and you had to bite down hard to keep from retching. your husband walked ahead, his pace measured, his face a mask of icy detachment.

˚ ༘♡ yet, even as he feigned indifference, you noticed the subtle tension p his clenched fists and the hard line of his jaw. no matter how disciplined and resolute he was, pretending you were a stranger clearly cost him some of his will power.

˚ ༘♡ you entered the massive dormitory, a cavernous space where the remaining players huddled in groups, their expressions etched with terror and disbelief. the room was alive with murmurs, frantic whispers of confusion and distress as they tried to process what had happened. the realization of the deadly nature of the games hung over the crowd, suffocating and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ abruptly, a piercing voice broke through the calamity, commanding and filled with urgency. all eyes turned to player 456, a man whose presence seemed to dominate the room. his words were bold, calling for a vote in accordance with the consent clause, a chance for the players to decide whether they would continue or abandon the games. the idea rippled through the crowd, igniting faint glimmers of hope in some and deepening the despair in others.

˚ ༘♡ your husband moved slightly, a subtle shift in his stance catching your attention. his gaze flicked toward you, so brief it was almost imperceptible. then, with deliberate movements, he traced a small circle on the back of his hand, an action so precise it disturbed you. he turned away before you could react, his focus now on the masked enforcers who were setting up the voting station.

˚ ༘♡ it took you a moment to understand the message. he wanted you to vote in favor of continuing the games. the realization landed suddenly. you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to steady yourself. the thought of condemning the remaining players to more death and suffering was unbearable, but you understood what his silent gesture meant. if the games ended now, everything he had planned, every risk he had taken, would amount to nothing.

˚ ༘♡ the apprehension caused your chest to tighten further as the masked figures prepared the voting station, their movements mechanical and precise. the voices of the players rose, some pleading for an end, others arguing to stay. you felt your pulse quicken, the enormity of what you were about to do pressing down on you as you prepared to cast a vote that would decide not only the fate of the players but the course of your husband’s dangerous mission.

a/n: the winner of the fanfiction vote, but i will definitely be writing for cho sang-woo as well! i hope you all enjoy reading! let me know if you have anymore requests! 🤍

[457gf]

hwang inho who . . inho x fem!reader

₊˚ʚ warnings : smut, dark content, age gap, naive!reader, manipulation, sexual coercion, dubcon / noncon, slight somnophilia, inho being a creepy old man for you, use of the word 'rαpe'

hwang inho who loves taking advantage of innocent naive girls, practically drooling when he spots you nervously fidgeting with your fingers, eyes squeezed shut as you silently begged for others to vote x. you wanted to go home so bad, but of course inho couldn’t let that happen.

hwang inho who can’t help but throb in those stupid cheap sweatpants when your smile drops even further from the result of him continuing to stay. obviously you didn’t know the real reason he said yes, though thinking of the look of betrayal that would form on your face after he tells you makes his grin that much wider.

hwang inho who approaches you gently, almost as if you’re a porclein doll who could be broken at any moment. you’re understandably weary because of the blue O stuck on his chest for the time being, almost as if a mockery. he’s the one that sealed your fate of staying here, after all. instead of bothering you like you initially thought, he politely invites you to sit with him and a few other people, under the ruse of “you look like you needed a friend.” in actuality, he just wanted to make sure you didn’t stray from his sight.

hwang inho who does everything in his power to get close to you. promising he’ll protect you, stick by you during all of the game, and put your safety well above his own. not like he was in any real danger with the guards on his side, though those words did give him a few brownie points from you for his generosity. it wasn’t really a lie, because he would protect you through all of the games, and he had no doubt about that.

hwang inho who watches you at night, promising to keep lookout for the whole group, though he spends most of his time staring at you. pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, pushing your hair out of your eyes so he’s able to see your pretty face better. inho can’t help but run his hands over your body, feather light touches across your perky tits and your hips, careful not to wake you up. you’re so god damn beautiful, you could be classified deadlier than the games because of the way you make his heart stop.

hwang inho who quickly pulls his hands away when you start to blink awake, eyes heavy with sleep. he’s a bit embarrassed he let himself be so reckless, but there’s nothing a little lie won’t fix. “oh, you kicked your blanket off so i was making sure you were cozy again.” “you were squirming so i thought you were having a nightmare. are you okay?” “i’m just checking on you, i’m sorry if i scared you.”

hwang inho who runs to the bathroom shortly after, unable to take more of the aching caused by your precious eyes. he’s pressed up against a stall, hand working fast over his thick cock as images of you flood his mind. you’re so cute and naive, he wants nothing more than to break you. you’re so stupid, you believed his little lie, not even questioning any further. and god, the way you called him “mister young-il” in that tired voice of yours before flopping back down, a sigh of relief escaping, made him feel even more perverted. you were so young and truly trusted him to look after you. he couldn’t get the thought of you underneath him, begging him to keep using you like a fleshlight out of his gross head.

hwang inho who can’t decide if he finds the idea of you crying out for him to stop and get off you hotter than you asking for more. definitely the former, he thinks. he wants to rαpe you, to sneak his hands underneath your pants in the middle of the night and play with your sopping cunt, the idea of your own body betraying you and giving into his sick desires and love for you makes his head fall back, roughly hitting the stall door in the process. he couldn’t care, he’s too far gone thinking about you.

hwang inho who can’t help but plot when the best time to take advantage of you will be, finally coming to the conclusion of mingle. the guards take a few minutes to clean up the bodies and some of the blood of each deceased after each round, leaving the players trapped in the locked rooms whilst doing so. all he had to do was wait for two people to be called out, tell the guards to take a little extra time, play your knight in shining armour, then push you against the wall and make you squirm.

[catchastarorten]

—You’ll be with me.

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x wife!fem!reader

Summary: being a previous winner of the games, the memories still haunted you. In-ho knew how bad it could get and he wanted you to feel safe, so he tried his best to give you comfort.

Warnings/content: fluff, comfort, temple kiss, a bit of angst, mentions of reader’s backstory as a player in the games, mentions of trauma, mentions of gunshot, blood, violence, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: 906

The air in the compound always felt thick, the silence lingered in the air. A quiet kind of weight that clung to the walls, the floors, even the people who roamed them. It had been years since you had been a participant in the games, years since you survived when so many hadn’t—where the memories of those days whispered in every corner. And yet, you were back here, year after year. You found yourself with him, In-ho.

You were a survivor. Years ago, you had stood on that blood-streaked ground, faced death at every turn, and somehow clawed your way out alive.

You hadn’t won because you were ruthless, but because life had refused to let you go. He oversaw your games, saw the way you fought but still left a piece of your heart filtered, still kept something kind. It was what drew In-ho to you in the aftermath of it all.

He was the Frontman, a man who wore a mask to the world and had barriers around his heart. But now with you. With you, he softened. He was unguarded, even. You had seen him beneath the cold exterior, you gave him gentleness and a sense of peace he didn’t know he needed, the kind that healed him in ways he didn’t know was possible.

But what you could never get used to was the feeling of knowing. Knowing that beyond these walls, people were fighting for their lives, as you once had. It lingered in the shadows of your mind, surfacing in flashes that made you sweat through the nights or turn cold at the sound of anything resembling a gunshot.

In-ho always noticed before you could hide it. He would find you, pull you into his arms, and remind you with his steady voice and warm embrace that you were safe now.

He understood in ways no one else could, because he too had been shaped by the games, though in a different way.

“You don’t have to watch,” he said to you the first time you expressed interest in sitting with him during one of the games. He was seated on the leather couch in front of the screen, the monitor displaying the players being led into one of the ‘playgrounds.’

His hand rested on the armrest, fingers curling slightly as if restraining himself from reaching for you. “It’s not something you need to see again.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, stepping closer. “I’ve faced it before.”

In-ho looked at you then, his mask already set aside on the table. His eyes searched yours, and you could see the conflict in them—the worry, the love, the fear that he might be wrong to let you stay.

His expression softened further, and he reached out a hand to you. You took it, and he pulled you close, guiding you to sit beside him. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, his warmth enveloping you as if he could shield you from everything. “Are you sure?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. The screens flickered, showing the players, their expressions were hauntingly familiar—those wide eyes, the curious glances, the way they clung onto the hope that they might win the prize money to pay off their debts.

You sat close, knees brushing his as the game unfolded on the screen before you. It didn’t take long for the first shot to ring out. A player dropped to the ground, lifeless, and you felt it then—the cold rush of panic creeping up your spine.

Your fingers twitched, the memories clawing their way back into your mind. The sound of gunfire echoed in your ears, overlapping with screams you could still remember too vividly.

In-ho noticed, his hand was on yours in an instant, fingers firm but gentle as they wrapped around your trembling hand. “You don’t need to put yourself through this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

You didn’t say anything, but continued watching.

In-ho exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t let go of you either. His presence was steady, like an anchor keeping you from being swept away by the tide of your memories.

As the game progressed, the inevitable deaths began to unfold. You flinched at the sound of gunfire crackling through the speakers, at the way the players dropped one by one, their dreams snuffed out in an instant. Your breath came quicker, your chest tightening as if an iron band was wrapping around your ribs.

In-ho pulled you closer, his other arm wrapping around your shoulders. He pressed you against his chest, his heartbeat steady and calm against your ear. “Breathe,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “It’s over now. Just breathe.”

You did as he said, focusing on the warmth of his body, the gentle pressure of his arm around you. The screen in front of you showed the survivors—those who had managed to stumble through the carnage—but you didn’t look at it anymore. You buried your face in In-ho’s chest, letting his scent and his touch ground you in the present.

He never made you feel like you had to be stronger than you were. And you knew he carried his own weight too—his role as the Frontman, the choices he had made—but he never let it interfere with his devotion to you.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter one: Ultimatum

Summary: Y/Ns father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

1 | next

Series Masterlist

Click, Click, Click the sound of your heels clacking on the floor echoed throughout the hallway. You stood in front of the door to the VIP room, where sick and twisted men drop millions of dollars on a death game. Unfortunately your father is one of them. The room reeked of power and desperation, two forces colliding in ways that felt suffocating. The black walls with gold jungle like accents were a stark contrast to the mahogany table in the center of the room. You sat down in the farthest corner of the polished table, trying to avoid your father’s hawk-like gaze. The air conditioning hummed faintly, serving as the only sound punctuating the heavy silence, but it did little to cool the heat simmering beneath your skin.

Across from you, the man they called the Frontman sat stiffly, his sharp, black mask reflecting the harsh light of the overhead chandelier. He hasn’t moved an inch since you entered the room, and the lack of expression from the cold, unfeeling mask made your stomach churn violently.

“I’ve been more than generous,” your father began heatedly, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass. He wasn’t even pretending to be subtle about what he was suggesting. “The games thrive on my contributions, but generosity only goes so far without… stability.” Your father finished with a concerning glint in his eye.

The masked man tilted his head, just slightly. “What kind of stability are you referring to?” His voice was even, almost dismissive, like he already knew where this was going but didn’t care enough to stop it.

You did, though.

“Dad-” you attempted to start your protest, he couldn’t go through with this.

“Quiet,” he snapped demeaningly without even sparing a glance towards you. His attention was fixed on the Frontman, the kind of single-minded determination that always made him dangerous.

The Frontman leaned back in his chair, one hand resting lightly on the table. “Speak plainly.”

Your father smirked, a wolfish grin that made your stomach twist. “Marriage. My daughter will marry you. The deal will be sealed, and my funding continues uninterrupted. You gain the security to maintain the games without… complications.” A crazed look in his eyes matched his maniacal grin.

Your mouth fell open, a sharp, indignant laugh escaping before you could stop it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Your father shot you a look, the kind that demanded obedience, but you weren’t a child anymore.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he said, as if this was a business deal like any other. “You’ve lived in comfort because of the wealth this partnership provides. It’s time to play your part.” The look on his face was nothing less than a look of hatred. Your eyes bounced between the frontman and your father incredulously.

“Play my part?” you repeated, standing so fast your chair scraped loudly against the marble floor. “You can’t just marry me off like some pawn in your sick games!”

“I can,” he said, his tone sharp and final.

You turned to the Frontman, searching for some sign of humanity beneath the mask. “And you’re okay with this? You’re just going to go along with it?” You were pleading, ready to get on your hands and knees and beg for him to reject this proposal.

The Frontman was silent, his stillness unnerving. Finally, he said, “What happens if I refuse?”

Your father shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. “The funding stops. The games collapse. And we both know what the VIPs will do if that happens.” That caused a slight falter in the frontman’s appearance. His gloved fingers curled against the edge of the table. The air felt heavy, oppressive, as if some invisible battle was taking place between the two men.

Finally, he stood. The chair scraped softly against the floor as he rose to his full height, towering over everyone in the room. “If this is the cost of stability, then so be it.” Your heart dropped to your stomach, any drop of freedom that you had previously had was stripped from you by a few mere words and you had no control over it, you were trapped just as much as the players were.

———————

The wedding took place two days later, in a grand hall that felt more like a theater than anything sacred. Rows of VIPs sat in velvet chairs, sipping champagne and watching the proceedings as if it were just another form of entertainment.

You stood at the end of the aisle in a dress that felt more like a costume, the intricate embroidery and heavy fabric weighing you down. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as the officiant droned on about unity and partnership, words that felt hollow in a place like this. You felt like you were drowning and couldn’t resurface.

The Frontman stood beside you, his mask still firmly in place, his posture rigid. He hadn’t spoken to you since the meeting. He hadn’t looked at you either.

When it came time for the vows, he recited them mechanically, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I do,” he said, the words landing like stones in the pit of your stomach.

You hesitated, your mouth dry as the Sahara when the officiant turned to you. For a brief moment, you considered saying no, throwing the whole charade into chaos. But the weight of your father’s expectations and the suffocating gaze of the VIPs pressed down on you.

“I do,” you said finally, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, laced with venom that would slowly suffocate you.

The crowd erupted into applause as the officiant pronounced you husband and wife. It felt wrong, surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

The quarters you were escorted to after the ceremony were spacious and cold, a reflection of the man who now shared them with you. You wandered through the rooms in silence, your heels clicking against the marble floors.

When you finally stopped in the main sitting area, the Frontman was already there, standing by the window with his back to you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you said, breaking the silence. Your voice was firm, but it wavered slightly at the edges.

“I know,” he replied without turning around.

You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, but you were too exhausted. Instead, you turned and walked into the adjoining bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

You didn’t cry. You refused to. Instead, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the ornate rug beneath your feet and wondering how your life had spiraled so completely out of your control.

Be nice lmao, this is my first time ever writing anything like this.. pls let me know how I did and you would actually like to see other parts. :)

also thank you to @sunny21200 for the idea!!

[gh0stsp1d3r]

sweetheart!reader x hwang in-ho/the frontman

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. When he first saw you, he knew he needed to have you.

He had originally joined the games as an attempt to learn about Gi-hun and his team, slither into their group and figure out what his intentions were. That plan was suddenly thrown off track as soon as his gaze met yours.

He had a soft smile on his face, and to you, it seemed genuine. You were Gi-Huns sweet, quiet friend. Apparently, he knew your dad before he went missing suddenly.

He sat next to you, you eyeing him up and down cautiously, before scooting to the side to give him more room. You gave him a shy smile back.

“I’m uh… y/n, l/n.” You told him, holding your palm out for him to shake.

“Young-il.” He replied, holding his hand out as well and shaking yours. Your hands were so soft, he had thought in his head, before quickly shaking it away. You were probably half the age of him, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted while here.

But your smile was so warm, so inviting. You were so sweet, and you were the prettiest thing he thinks he’s ever seen. It was impossible to resist you.

He had to have you, he knew it at that moment. No matter what it would take, no matter what he would have to do for it to happen, it would happen.

A/N: I’m trying to get out of a REALLY bad writers block atm, and I’m probably gonna write more of them soon… because the innocent reader and the insane s/o trope always gets me

[littlepeach-world]

Safety Call

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Reader

Summary: When an unwelcome stranger disrupts your night out with friends, you call In-ho for help. 

Warnings: Angst, Alcohol, physical altercation, harassment, Protective!Inho, Soft!Inho.

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: I love protective Inho, so I decided to write this. I hope you like it!

You stand near the doorway, noticing the stern yet concerned look in In-ho's eyes as you finish getting ready. His presence is a mixture of authority and a hidden worry that only you can see through.

"In-ho, I'll be fine," you say, turning to face him with a reassuring smile. You know how to ease his fears, how to comfort him. "It's just a few drinks with friends."

"I know," he replies, his voice steady but low. "But be careful. Call me if anything happens."

You chuckle softly, walking up to him and placing a tender hand on his cheek. His skin is warm under your touch, and you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. His eyes soften slightly at your intimate gesture. "I promise I will. Besides, you don't have to worry too much. You have my location and are always tracking me when I go out." Your eyes sparkle mischievously as you say this, and you can see his lips twitch, almost forming a smile.

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. "Just be careful, Y/N," he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours for a brief, tender moment.

Before you can respond, In-ho leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. The kiss deepens slightly, filled with the tenderness and concern he holds for you. He then begins to pepper kisses over your face—your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose—eliciting a soft giggle from you.

"I love you," you whisper, your heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you more," In-ho replies softly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

You feel his breath on your lips, and for a heartbeat, you’re lost in the depth of his gaze. You give him a playful salute before stepping out of the apartment, aware of the mix of anxiety and love swirling within him. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, a silent promise of his unwavering protection and affection.

—

The bar is bustling with life, filled with laughter and music. You navigate through the crowd until you spot your friends—Eunji, Yuna, and Jian—already seated at a cozy corner booth. There's a celebratory air as you greet them warmly and enthusiastically wish Jian a happy birthday, wrapping her in a tight hug.

"Happy birthday, Jian! How does it feel to reach this milestone?" you tease, causing the group to laugh.

The night is filled with dancing, laughter, and sharing stories—moments you know you'll cherish. The hours slip by effortlessly, the energy of the bar feeding your spirits. You take turns on the dance floor, twirling and swaying to the beat, losing yourself in the music.

However, the joyous atmosphere is suddenly interrupted. A man, clearly intoxicated and insistent, stumbles over to your group. His persistence in trying to join in your celebration is neither welcomed nor appreciated.

"Come on, ladies, let me buy you all a drink," he slurs, leaning too close for comfort.

"Come on, you know you want to hang out with me," he mumbles repeatedly, his words barely coherent. Despite Jian and the others insisting that he leave, he continues to bother you all.

"Seriously, we're not interested," Eunji says firmly, trying to wave him off.

Your warm demeanor turns serious. You step forward, positioning yourself between the man and your friends. "Okay, that's enough. You need to back off now," you state clearly, your tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.

He doesn't seem to get the hint, remaining obstinate. Your heart quickens, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in, but you maintain your composure. Excusing yourself for a moment, you pull out your phone and quickly text In-ho, explaining what's happening:

Hey. There's a drunk guy at the bar who won't leave us alone. I'm handling it, but just wanted you to know.

As you hit send, you look back at your friends, their faces showing a mixture of worry and solidarity. You know they'll have your back, but it's reassuring to have In-ho in the loop.

Not long after, you hear your phone ping with a response: On my way. Stay safe.

You take a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease knowing In-ho will be there soon. For now, you tighten the circle with your friends, each of you drawing strength from one another as you continue to ward off the unwelcome intrusion.

—

Receiving your text, In-ho's face hardens, his normally calm expression tightening with a mixture of concern and anger. His initial worry morphs swiftly into a cold, determined resolve. He doesn’t hesitate; there’s no time to waste. Grabbing his jacket, he quickly notifies his guards about the situation, ensuring they are prepared for any potential dangers. With thoughts of your safety driving every step he takes, he heads out the door.

The journey to the bar feels longer than ever, each second ticking by painfully slow. His mind races with possibilities of what could be happening, each scenario pushing him to move faster. When he finally arrives, there's a palpable shift in the atmosphere. In-ho's presence is commanding, a figure of undeniable authority and strength stepping through the threshold. The dim, chaotic ambiance of the bar quivers under his scrutiny. Conversations pause, patrons instinctively stepping aside as if drawn by an unspoken rule of respect and fear.

As he weaves through the crowd with purpose, his eyes scan the room until they lock onto you. Instantly, a wave of relief washes over you. You see him, your guardian, your firm anchor in the tempest. The storm in your heart subsides, if only for a moment, at the sight of him.

"Is there a problem here?" In-ho’s voice is icy, cutting through the noise of the bar like a blade. The man bothering you turns to face him, eyes filled with a mix of anger and fear. The authority in In-ho's demeanor is unmistakable, and it quickly becomes clear to the harasser that he's made a mistake.

The man's bravado falters for a moment, but then he straightens his shoulders and narrows his eyes at In-ho. "Mind your own business," he sneers, attempting to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

In-ho's expression remains unchanged, his gaze unwavering. "I'm warning you. Leave now."

The man hesitates, but his foolish pride gets the better of him. He clenches his fists, his jaw tightening. "I said, mind your own business!" he shouts, attracting the attention of nearby patrons.

In-ho sighs, a glint of anger flickering in his eyes. Normally, he would have laid the guy out without a second thought—no questions asked. But he remembered how much you had voiced that fighting scares you. He's trying his best to honor that. "This is your last warning. Walk away."

Instead of heeding the warning, the man foolishly tries to swing at In-ho in a last-ditch effort to save face. In one fluid motion, In-ho dodges the punch and delivers a swift, powerful jab to the man's jaw. The impact sends the man stumbling backwards.

Before the harasser can recover, In-ho steps forward, his movements precise and controlled. He catches the man's arm, twists it behind his back, and restrains him with an ease that speaks volumes of his training and strength.

"That was a mistake," In-ho says, his voice low and dangerous.

Within seconds, two of In-ho's guards appear at either side of him. They take the man away, their grip unyielding as they escort him out of the bar.

In-ho turns to you, his earlier concern evident in the way he carefully scans you for any signs of harm. His eyes trace over your form, checking for bruises or cuts, and only when he's reassured that you're physically unscathed does his expression soften into one of gentle protectiveness. "Are you alright?" he asks, his voice tender and filled with genuine concern.

Satisfied that you’re not hurt, he meets your eyes, offering a comforting presence amidst the chaos that has unfolded.

You hug him with gratitude. "Thanks for being here, It means a lot to me."

He holds you close, his grip reassuring, and kisses your head softly. "Don't thank me. It's my job to protect you."

As you leave the bar together, a small smile tugs at your lips. Despite the challenges in his life, In-ho’s presence brings a sense of warmth and stability to your world. Together, you find balance and understanding in each other's company.

In-ho gently takes your hand, his grip firm and protective. "You're never leaving my side again," he says, his voice filled with unwavering determination.

[inhogf]

Lee Byung Hun, ur teacher pt.2

part 1 here · contains: him as ur teacher, smut, p in v sex in classroom, choking, spanking, age gap (reader is a student, byung hun in mid 50s) 1.5k words

“you're sleeping with mr. byung hun, are you not?“ this was practically an ongoing joke between you and your friends, all of them giggling, unable to restrain their crazed and exaggerated expressions as one of them held your test paper in their hand. it was amazing, really— going from failing most of your tests to straight A's in calculus. without a helping hand, as you'd tell them.

you wouldn't want everyone to know you were slutting yourself out to your teacher for bonus marks, would you?

were you doing that only for some extra credit?

the classroom was fairly quiet in a bit, save for the sound of mr. byung hun's marker gliding across the whiteboard. he was halfway through solving a complicated integral when your friend passed you a note: ’correct him so we know y'all arent having sex. xoxo ♡’. it made you snicker at her, before you raised your hand.

“uhm, mr. byung hun, you totally messed that up,” you said, tone dripping with feigned condescension. you leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. you were always a little rebel, weren't you? how could byung hun forget? “you forgot to distribute the negative. kind of embarrassing for a teacher.”

oh you were bold. you caught him off-gaurd. he never would've known you'd act like such a brat after he only fucked you once; it amused him to say the least. you enjoyed riling him up, taunting him despite his frustrated grumbles and groans and the obvious bulge in his pants. he'll roll his eyes at you; something the class caught on to; attempting to hold himself back from admiring and touching your adorable body.

“let's see, shall we?“ he exhaled, stepping aside to rework the equation. the room grew tense as he went through each step on the board, taking his sweet, sweet, time.

“ah, turns out, i didn't forget anything. you, however, overlooked the substitution rule. this part," he'd say, unfazed as a subtle smile crept up his lips, circling the equation. "—is where you went wrong."

the class stirred with soft gasps and muffled laughter. byung hun paused, walking up to face you, before crossing his arms. your cheeks were burning up. not because of the embarrassment, no— but because of byung hun. he'd punish you. you made him thrilled.

“detention after school for you, stay in my class afterwards. feel free to brush up on substitution rules while you’re at it, you'll need them for the test next week.“

you were a brat begging to be tamed; but byung hun had self-control, able to hold himself back from re-enacting his fantasies onto you right in front of all his students. the hunger that festered in the pit of his stomach, beating with an erratic pulse and growing in restlessness. he has to push back the hanging reminder that he was hard, dick pressed against his suit trousers with a leaky tip. you'd think he'd have a hard time getting his dick up, his aging evident from the way the corners of his eyes crinkle every time he smiled— but no, all it took was you teasing him in front of his class.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 𖥟

it wasn't long before byung hun's hands slid down to your ass as the last of his students left the class, pulling you flush up against him, the raw intensity of his emotions— the restraint he had let go of, the vulnerability he now laid bare.

“you know what you were fuckin’ doing to me back there, yeah?“ he wasted zero time in shifting his belt open, tugging a finger to the waistband of his boxers as he fumbled his dick out; making it spring up and slap against his abdomen before taking his shirt off. anger filled his veins today, and he decided he'd needed to take this anger out into someone. more specifically, you. “you need to be punished.“

you don't mind. your gaze was smitten to his contoured body— his chiseled chest, huge shoulders that are the perfect leverage, his.. huge dick; so so perfect for his age. was he on steroids? that's insane. byung hun kept himself somewhat shaven, as you noticed. he doesn't have a lot of hair, but he has a trail of black hair running up his sturdy abdomen, as well as around his crotch. pretty little thing, you'd think to yourself before your teacher snapped you out of your thoughts.

“up, baby,“ byung hun said oh so hushed, pulling you up by your ass and bending you over on his desk— pages of assignments flying everywhere. his fingers would rub against the wet patch of your panties, tracing your folds and oggling at them. practically drooling as he tore your panties off. he spread your soft folds with such expertise while looking between your eyes and your pussy, begging to push inside. it made you wonder, how many women had he fucked before? did he even have a wife? kids?

his thick cock sat stiff in front of your pussy, tip so red and garbles of pre-cum drooled at the sight of your bare pussy spread out for him. it's hard to get used to the feeling of being pried open and split apart by byung hun, the splitting sensation of his boner being pushed into you. his hands would wander all over your bare, naked skin. so so so greedy. he wanted to have you whole; not knowing where to touch your body next. he pushed deep into your slit and let out breathless, guttural groans. taking him was painful, the sheer length of him foreign to your organs. you've only ever had sex with, what, two men? and both their dicks were tiny.

“i'm risking going to jail for you, slut..“ he snapped his hips forward, a gasp escaping your puffy lips as he bottomed out in the first thrust. byung hun held a finger to your bottom lip, before the hand trailed down your chin and grabbed onto your neck from behind, pressing it to restrict your airflow. it was such a tight, snug fit. it had you squirming. he left zero spaces open to waste inside your pussy. no holes for even air to fucking enter. your pussy was stretched to the max by his big fucking cock, your juices dripping down your thighs to the wood of his desk, wetting them. “so good, daddy..“

each thrust he made with his hips caused a grunt to slip from his throat. he huffs, groans out at the sensation against his covered bulge. “you're a needy thing, you know that?” he chuckles when he sees your fucked-out eyes, beyond desperation as your orgasm pools at your sweet cunt, desperate for release.

“s-so big-!“ you’re a whore, a blubbering mess, both legs hooked around his hammering hips whilst your arms kept a tight grip on his burly shoulders. you whine, mouth open as moans and ‘more's’ pour from it. his dick continues rutting into you, splitting your pussy apart in such an animalistic way it had you seeing stars— a pool of steam gathering down at your lower abdomen.

you were certain an orgasm on the brink edge of releasing was close, but when he spanks your ass as punishment, all it did was make him even hotter. “자기야 [baby].. you take my cock so well, but can't handle a slap? you need a roughening up, my dear...“

and the way his accent turns more prominent against your ear and his hot breath against your neck, it was all too much for a dumb, crying thing like you— unable to control the way your pussy uncontrollably clutches onto him, forcing him to shoot his potent, hot load of inside your puffy hole.

“i'm gonna.. fuck— i'm cumming..“ byung hun said as his pretty eyes grew half-lidded, strands of sweaty hair falling to his forehead as he shut his eyes completely, ropes of thick cum squirting from his still-swollen tip as he pumps you full. so full in fact, that he's actually pumping his cum out of you because you’re overflowing with his seed.

and once byung hun was done fucking a brain-numbing orgasm out of you, and fucked his own deep into your womb, he'd settle you down on his chair, your head lolled to the side as he finished slipping his softening dick back into his boxers— his eyes admiring your pretty state. you were so adorable like this.

his phone would ring as he fixed his tie, the contact reading ’Principal’ as you giggled to yourself— you knew he was in trouble all because of you. ♡

cr @inhogf dont steal

[voxslays]

SMUTTY IN-HO HEADCANNONS

✩ Heavy breeding kink. This man wants someone to carry on his legacy, to carry on the games and be the next frontman—and when he thinks of you, your stomach all swollen from carrying his seed…he can’t help but get hard.

✩ I’ve seen a couple posts stating he’d date a younger woman, which I agree with…but not too much younger. Like maybe 10-12 year age gap at most. He wants someone mature, but a little younger. He doesn’t want you to die before him. He couldn’t handle another loss.

✩ Will bend you over any and every surface. The kitchen counter? Check. His desk? Check. In-ho doesn’t care, as long as you’re comfortable as he takes you from behind.

✩ Loves cockwarming. For him, it’s an anywhere, anytime activity. When he’s sitting in his office doing paperwork for the games? Yep. When he’s sitting in his private suite during the games, when red light, green light is being broadcasted to his TV? Definitely.

✩ He is also a very caring partner, even if it seems the opposite sometimes. He will always put your pleasure above his own. Never coming before you do, and always making sure he has a safeword if you ever need to stop.

✩ This man also has a CRAZY amount of stamina. In-ho was a police officer at one point, so he had to have at least some agility experience or training. He is also very skilled for his age and can go for literal hours. So I hope you’re ready for a wild ride, babe!

✩ In-ho is the perfect mix of degrading and praising. Names he will call you during steamy time range from slut, to darling, to your own name. He will really call you anything under the sun as he pounds into you.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧

summary_ A triumvirate is a group of three people who share power, you hated the island your father brought you to. Your summer vacations turned you witness of some bloody games, what surprised you was how you ended up being the rag doll of the salesman and frontman of the organization that held the games.

warnings_age gap (reader is in her early 20s), reader is implied to be American (not specified again), sexual tension, very mild sex, oral (f!receiving), PLOT HOLES AND NO PROOFREADING YET, ooc salesman and frontman, violence, manipulation, marriage, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls

notes_ i wanted to do something more interesting but I’m busy and about to start spring semester YET, MORE FICS COMING!!!!!!!!

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The would’ve could’ve should’ve constantly popped up in your head. Wonder how different your life could have been if you had grown up with a normal family.

As a child you experienced fear whenever your parents held parties, usually there was the dead body of a man drowning in blood. Enemies of your father were brought to said parties and faced a violent ending.

With the odds against your favor, it was your mother who suffered the same destiny because of your progenitor’s bullshit.

He gave you too much independence, but what he had done to you over the years, made you a lonely, selfish, disobedient woman.

You could’ve stolen some money and lived a life away from everything you knew. But the least he could do was to pay for everything your heart desired. One day you would be better off without him but for now, you endured.

The mysterious island he brought you to seemed nice. A luxurious private complex was all for you. The weird thing was that it had no windows, no balconies, and no way to communicate with the exterior.

Midday, you were supposed to watch some entertainment the island offered; a game they said.

“Why do we have to wear this crap?” You ask as your father hands you a golden mask. “We’ve talked about this. Don’t be a bitch and comply”

It seemed like a bird, maybe a hummingbird. But it was disturbing for some reason. He wore a robe and you thought it was just a normal game. Hence why your dress seemed like a little bit too much for the occasion.

You peeked your head through the door and you saw how many people sat and watched a big screen while a crowd of people in green tracksuits ran in opposite directions, soon many died and it was a bloodbath.

You nearly vomited.

“I won’t go in there”

“You’re expected to, now put that mask on be a good daughter,” he said grabbing your forearm you tried to move away but he placed more pressure.

“Disturbs among VIPs are not allowed” a pink guard came into vision.

He had to be a man, tall and imposing.

“My apologies, I was just telling my father I won’t watch the games tonight” you firmly say.

“Don’t be stupid, y/n. Not when I’ve spent millions on this” You shrug and he was about to slap you when the pink guard pulled you backward to avoid the slap and another figure stepped in.

“What is going on in here?” A much deeper voice spoke, the man wore a dark suit and black mask. He must’ve been the frontman.

“This stupid child won’t go inside and watch the games” You can feel both the guard and frontman eyeing you. Suddenly you felt naked in the strapless black dress.

The frontman pats your father’s back and calls him by his name, making you realize he knows him, perhaps they’re friends.

“Let your child be. If she doesn’t want to watch, she doesn’t have to. 004, escort her back to her complex” The guard nods and indicates you to follow him.

With one last look, you see and hear your father cursing, entering the room. And that imposing frontman, standing there, watching you behind his mask.

…

For the rest of the day, you are left alone. At night, you decide to make good use of the pool your complex included. Overall the place was dark, it had a lot of yellow and orange bulbs that illuminated enough, giving a futuristic but slightly contemporary dark space.

The pool was perfectly warm and it was the only place with blue lights.

The memory of your asshole father hadn’t come into the picture ever since the morning. On the other hand, the masks of that pink guard and the frontman haunted you.

And then you heard something. Someone opening the principal door.

You stayed there, trying to remain completely quiet, hoping that the sound of the water would disguise the way you nervously breathed.

You closed your eyes for a second, and when you opened them again. You had him there; the frontman.

“You didn’t want to watch my games. Why is that?” He asks through the dark mask as if he hadn’t intruded. You remain silent, unsure of what to do. “Answer me”

“I didn’t sign up for that kind of entertainment when my fucking asshole father brought me here” you reveal, trying to sound cool. But the truth was that you wanted to run.

“He truly hates you,” he says, making you smir, nodding. “Yes, and I hate him as well”

“I can tell it had to do with the death of your mother…” his words make you react fast.

“Take that ridiculous mask off if you are going to put the name of my mother in your mouth”

In the mere silence, the only sound disturbing it, was his mask dropping to the floor, revealing an intimidating man.

Slick hair, deep eyes, sharp jawline. Handsome overall…

Still, you remain.

“I would like to describe what makes you so intriguing…”

“You’re just an old man with an old dick and set your naughty eyes on a young ass like me” you swear you see a tiny smirk on his face, which quickly evaporates.

“Smart girl…” you roll your eyes, your hands floating around the warm pool. And you shouldn’t be turned on by that nasty old man staring there, intruding and invading your privacy like nothing. But there was something dark and twisted that was making you feel naughty.

So you pushed yourself up by your shoulders and offered a full view of your naked body to the frontman.

What was happening? Certainly unsure…

He watched deliberately, almost as if he was testing the waters and proving you were unhinged like him.

“I won’t be the one pleasing you tonight” Your confusion only grows after the door opens up again and you see a pink guard entering. By the height and greeting he offered to his boss, you knew it was the one who saved you from your father’s slap.

“What the actual fuck?…” the frontman only gives him a nod and you lay there, waiting until the guard is beside you.

You look up, confused, still holding yourself back with your elbows. His black boots push your feet to the side, inviting you to move around, aside from the pool.

“What? You’re gonna eat me up?” The guard remains silent.

“He will teach you manners” the frontman speaks, making you turn to look at him once again.

“I like being a brat, darling. It has always been this way…” Your cocky smile soon disappears after the guard takes his mask off and you encounter a younger handsome man.

He kneels and your eyes almost pop open because at that moment you realize what was actually happening.

The gloved hands of the guard lay on your open legs, making sure you lifted them, the heels of your feet almost touching your ass.

The guard eyes you and you almost shiver. He was almost asking permission to touch you. His touch was nice, even his gaze seemed welcoming.

You watch his head disappear between your legs and it’s over.

“F-fuck” you moan, arching your back while the man between your legs works his tongue in and out of your weeping hole.

“Ah- ah, I’ve never been this wet before” you admit shamelessly, groping your breasts while you end up making eye contact with the guard.

He is slightly older than you, but he’s disturbingly handsome.

“Make her cum, 004” the frontman speaks, seated straight in one of the couches across the pool, where he watches with ease.

You want to know the name of the source of your pleasure so bad.

His tongue flicked around your clit and it made you roll your eyes, throwing your head back and losing yourself in the pleasure and the water reflection on the black ceiling.

The moment his nose nudged your clit and his tongue lapped at your cunt harder than before, you came so hard your legs opened impossibly wider than ever.

You wanted to stay there forever.

…

Your heels clacked with each step through the city. A lot of people turned to look at you. In a tight tube skirt, a top with a squared neck and the most classy coat the city could see. At the subway station, you eyed a man looking at you. He was hot and you smiled at him, turning to leave the station.

He was following you. You could feel his steps behind you. You should’ve been afraid, but it only fueled your stomach with anticipation.

Making a turn in a filthy alley, you felt his big hand on your nape and pushed you against the wall.

You didn’t even object, you only pulled him closer to make a wet mess on his lips.

“You look too damn hot tonight,” he said in your lips.

“Take me to dinner and I might believe you” both of you chuckled.

You didn’t leave the island, neither did your father.

The first time you returned to Seoul was to get married. That pink guard who ate your cunt three years ago was now the recruiter of those deadly games, or how you preferred to call him; your salesman. And he was your husband.

“That time of the year is coming…” you say as he grabs your hand guiding you to a sandwich place. “I don’t want to go…”

“You don’t have to, I’ll go and say you are sick” Your husband ever the loyal, tried to soothe your worries, but it was in vain.

“I don’t want him to take it out on you, baby” Your salesman nods at your words, the uncomfortable tilt of his face making you aware of how uneasy the subject made him.

Whenever the Squid Game was about to begin, it was your task and your husband’s to recruit people.

Both in classy attires and with attractive features made it harder for the victims to deny the offer. Young people constantly whispered how much of a hot couple you two were while riding the subway or walking random streets.

“There’s three weeks left, darling. Let’s not let it get in our way yet” he says, opening the door of the sandwich place.

The smell of vinegar, freshly baked bread, and spices make your stomach growl and your husband notices it.

“As it seems you are very hungry…The usual?” You nod at him, urging him to lean and make it easy for you to leave a kiss on his cheek.

His cute smile makes you get hearty eyes.

You eye your husband as he orders the food and you wait by an empty table.

He’s loyal, devoted, hot as fuck, insane, sadistic and a sociopath. But in your eyes he’s perfect.

Nothing compared to him.

In the beginning, it was all pure carnal lust. He liked to watch how your husband, at that time 004 ravished you. Then he opted to make said guard look while he took you.

In-ho was cold and rough but gentle and a good listener.

He understood you, got rid of your father so that you could acquire all of his money and leave.

But you didn’t want to because you had him and 004. For months it all fell into a toxic routine. Your delusions of having two men infatuated by you grew to the point you felt love towards both.

But at the same time, it wasn’t the same love.

In-ho ascended 004 as a recruiter and you weren’t ready to see him go away. He would only visit the island whenever the games were about to begin.

Call it a fluke or bad news, but during those days you learned you actually meant nothing for the frontman. And before you could’ve experienced heartbreak, 004 asked you to leave with him as a recruiter.

It was at that exact moment when you comprehended nobody would care for you like him.

You were his since he pulled you away from your father’s slap.

Heavens smiled at you as the old man who was the remaining superior of In-ho at the time approved your petition of becoming a recruiter as well.

You felt no remorse as you left the island, without saying goodbye to In-ho. But over the years you would learn you would never escape completely from him.

It would always go back to being your salesman, your frontman, and you.

…

You stare at the album in your hands. A picture of you and your salesman on your wedding day. Nobody attended, Who would’ve? None of you had friends, family, or people who mattered.

A stranger took the picture. A stranger was witness to two insane humans celebrating their marriage.

And ever since, you believe it was the best decision of your life.

Your husband and you were… intense. From 52 weeks of the year, three were for recruiting people and one to notify the island. The rest, it was you and your man playing cat and mouse games with dauntless people who dared to try to uncover the roots of the Squid Game and everything behind.

48 weeks to cherish your husband, let him fuck you with his favorite gun, and then shove it in your mouth until you were sobbing from pleasure and committing crimes under the excuse of protecting your people.

Any morals you carried were washed away as soon as you married.

But you wouldn’t change it. With your father gone and in the arms of the man you loved, nothing could possibly hurt you.

Not even that man leading the island you hated so much.

…

At some point, you thought your daily life was actually the bubble you lived in, while the short annual visit to that island was actually your reality. Walking on the same grounds where your father’s corpse was rotting wasn’t a pleasant reminder. Even less when you were forced to separate from your husband.

Both of you exchanged looks when a familiar pink guard stepped between you and him.

“Our frontman has requested to only receive you” the modulated voice was directed towards you.

“It’s gonna be okay, dear,” you say to your salesman, whose discontent was more than evident.

Normally, he had the right to feel superior because he was able to taste power over ordinary people. But when it came to being just a messenger for his boss, having to allow his wife to go where of course he didn’t want, was torture.

“You’re smart, don’t let him get under your skin,” your husband said in your ear, before standing straight, hands behind his back while he offered one of his signature feigned smiles towards the guard.

Under that confident stance, you could see a worried man.

But he was right, you were smart.

The smell of the whole place was indescribable, but intoxicating, in the best possible way. You remember that as the only good thing, as stupid as it sounded.

The dark halls are long, slightly illuminated by the warm yellow lights you remember very well. Time seems to pass slower than it appeared because the walk towards an office you knew so well felt eternal.

But finally, the guard stopped and opened the door for you.

Let the games begin…

It was just the same as the last time you were in there.

In-ho was seated, drinking of course.

“How’s marriage life?” His voice seemed to sound even deeper, he sounded more evil.

“Long time no see, darling. My marriage life has been perfect as usual”

“Good, it would be a shame if you had told me our recruiter can’t make you happy or fuck you properly” You roll your eyes, pacing towards him with ease. You offered a brief massage on his tense shoulders, feeling how he relaxed after your touch. It was then that you decided to lean and whisper in his ear.

“Relax, In-ho. You were the one who wanted me gone. You set the spark between my husband and me, remember?” He closed his eyes, sipping the remaining of his drink.

“Stop talking and use that pretty mouth for something useful instead” he grabbed one of your hands and pushed you to the floor, making you sink into your knees.

His big hand trailed your jawline and harshly made you look at him in the eye.

He looked tired, but he still got something.

“I won’t complain, In-ho. You can use me…” of course you would not say no, the first time he pointed a gun to your forehead and promised to torture your husband, so you wouldn’t commit the same error twice.

“Atta girl…”

And with that, you tried to focus on the sounds instead of the view, because you wished it was your husband seating on that chair with his leaking cock fucking your mouth. But it was the frontman and you weren’t totally displeased by him.

…

The salesman opened the door, encountering his boss standing up and you on the floor with glossy eyes and a mess on your face.

“Ah, good you’re here. Hand me the statics…” he walks away, leaving you on your knees and tits out, feeling completely used. Your husband only eyes you briefly and you can tell he’s not pleased with the sight. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment and you rush to grab a cloth and clean any trace of cum. “Oh, and clean your wife, we got a little messy…”

The frontman puts his mask on and leaves the room after grabbing the folder your salesman handed him, making the room feel heavy.

You stand up, pulling up the straps of your dress.

“Are you alright?” Your salesman asks quickly. You sigh, nodding. “Yes, it’s the same every year”

“I fucking hate this. Next time, I’ll be witnessing…”

“What?” you question him shocked, dropping the cloth with cum stains.

“If I can’t do anything to stop this from happening, then I’ll be present” he thought it was a low blow, but he couldn’t bear leaving his wife and letting his boss manhandle her like a little rag doll.

Although that was what you’ve always been.

“He knows you hate this. He’ll try to take advantage and I don’t want you to get in trouble” You could handle In-ho and his little whim, but if you lost your husband, it all be over.

All because that old man didn’t want you anymore but couldn’t let you go.

“Believe me, I’ll control myself just because I want to prove to him that I’m your husband” You hated to see the facade of confidence fall from your salesman. He was always so cocky, arrogant and in control.

“He can fuck you once a year, but I am the one who has carved into your skin and will always claim you as mine”

And there he was. That was your man. You literally jump into his arms and he greets you with a desperate kiss.

“Once we collect all the money we need, we’re leaving, baby. Wherever you want, and you will always have the chance to show me off as your wife” you say placing his tie in place and after that, you kiss him dearly.

…

Hand in hand, you and your husband walk through the cloudy streets of Seoul. You have a brown skirt with wine-red flowers, a black top, and a coat along with some elegant heels. Your man wearing a dark grey suit and a strong hand holding yours.

“Do you like burgers?” You ask him as you wait for a cab. He only shrugs and smiles at you.

“I like anything that has meat and vegetables”

“True. It’s just that I really liked having burgers back at home. That’s what I want to have as my first meal with you” you admit shyly, feeling like a little girl giving immature declarations.

“Anything will be fine, sweetheart” you pout, accommodating his tie.

“I’m gonna miss watching you in suits every day” your husband smirks.

“Your loss is my luck. I’ll get to see you in sundresses and leggings whenever” you laugh.

“You’re so naughty, dear” For some seconds, you forget you are in the middle of the street, with two hours left in Seoul and billions of money traveling in a clandestine plane.

“One more task keeping up appearances, doll. Just one more…” he says returning to his serious self, opening the door of the cab for you.

“Just one more…” you mumble.

Soon you two are waiting a couple of blocks away from the airport. Where an ex-cop parks his car and hops off.

“Nice to meet you in person…” you say taking his hand and then your husband doing the same.

His name is Hwang Jun-ho and he is the brother of the frontman.

One thing led to another and after one call, you and your salesman offered to give details of where the island you so much hated was.

“We’re gonna need a little favor, though…” the young man eyes you and your husband. He finds the two of you odd, deserving of each other but there was something behind the aura you two held that made him thoughtful. “What kind of favor?…”

“We need you to erase any documents that could identify me and my husband.” your salesman speaks as you softly take his hand and caress his long fingers.

“I can erase any license, passport, identification card, and bank cards. However… your birth certificate will always be available in the system” Jun-ho says, meaning the last part to be meant for your husband. He only tilts his head.

“That won’t be an issue”

“Then we have a deal,” the ex-cop says, extending his hand.

You gladly shake it, feeling an immense wave of serenity flowing through your entire being.

“You’ll have our call as soon as we get out of Korea” With that, destiny is sealed.

You and your husband burn your business attires and enter the airport under the names of a diseased couple who lived in the 1960s in Seoul. You catch his smile as you two wait to board the plane that will lead you to a new life.

Away from the games, the island, and that man. You never much of him, In-ho was the cause of your aches every year. But as you leave with your husband you realize that frontman was also your savior. Who handed you your freedom, the love of your life, good sex and was whom you had just sentenced to death.

_______________________________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @hannawigdahl @angela075905 @dynaloy @crispybaguettes @dorayakissu @greensunflowerjuna @mackythoughts @nightdark-dreamdark @ilovethe141 @rafecamsgirlll @space-girl-16 @laurenbenoit70

[bruhstories]

Bet V

p.1 here & p2. here & p.3 here & p.4 here

mandatory mdni. you were not tagged in this because you are not over 18.

summary: in his attempt to break you, in-ho breaks himself pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, masturbation, voyeurism, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, veeeery slow burn, reader’s dad is dead w/c: 2k

a/n: this is my half-assed attempt at writing a game lol. if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can’t find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

Neolttwigi had been another success. The seesaw game eliminated 91 people, and with 97 remaining players, In-ho proceeded with tuho. He paid close attention to the masked soldiers who directed the survivors to the same place where they had previously played Red Light, Green Light, only the floor was divided by a bright blue line in the middle. The ceiling was open, letting players experience natural light for a second time in a row.

The game was awfully simple —  throwing arrows into the neck of a jar. In-ho remembered reading about that game in school, how it was played by royal families and the upper class before becoming a game for everyone, and the jar had a narrow neck, making it easy to miss the mark. He had rarely played it as a child, preferring juldarigi or squid, games he taught his younger brother.

It became a habit for him to check the cameras in his penthouse whenever you were there. It brought him a strange peace of mind knowing that Eunjoo was safe in your hands, but he couldn't, for the life of him, stop looking at the selfie you sent the day before. In-ho knew that walking into a lamppost was bullshit, but he didn't want to pressure you into telling him the truth. He needed you to trust him, to tell him willingly. 

Still, he examined the picture —  your cheek in particular — and concluded that you lied to him. In-ho took it as a triumph. He didn't win the bet just yet, there was still time for you to mess up, but the fact that you chose to not tell the truth only solidified his belief that you were the same as everyone else. In four days he would return to Seoul and win. The prize? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps just the satisfaction that he was above you.

Players entered the field, and the voice in the speaker instructed them to split into teams of two in less than thirty minutes, which was unfair to player 002, since there was an odd number of people. 002 was taken away by a guard, and the remaining 96 players grouped into pairs. While the objective was indeed simple — throw the arrows in the jar — it came with a twist. It always did. Each player was given four arrows, but one of them was blindfolded and threw the arrows while their teammate picked the jar up and tried to catch the arrow in it. Once all four arrows were thrown, the teammates switched places. If at least six out of eight arrows hit the mark, both players passed, but if one player threw four arrows and the other only two, they both died. 

The game took out fewer people than In-ho had hoped — 19 to be precise. Player 002 was alive and well, and the remaining 77 survivors returned to their chamber, where more and more beds had been removed, exposing the remaining three games on the walls — Hide and Seek, Yutnori and Ssireum. He remembered his time as a player, how he was the only one who paid attention to his surroundings and anticipated the following games. In-ho used all of his skills and knowledge as a detective and emerged as the sole survivor and winner. Did it bring his wife back? No, but it did make him feel so good when proved he earned his right to live.

Players were receiving less and less food, and from the comfort and safety of the control room, In-ho watched them slowly lose all traces of their humanity. He wondered how you would've performed in the games. Participants would have abused your kindness, and your good intentions would've gotten you killed. To make it worse, he was certain you would've sacrificed yourself to save someone else, someone you deemed worthy of winning. But in his eyes, only you deserved to live.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and In-ho took it out to read the text from you. He knew it had to be you. Who else would text him at that time?

Hellooo, I took a look in the fridge and noticed the eggs and milk will go bad before you come back. I was wondering if I could give it to someone who needs it.

Damn it, you did it again. In-ho couldn't be sure that you actually gave the food to someone else — he had to take your word for it for now.

Of course. May I ask who you're giving it to?

Remember the family I told you about? The one I teach Korean to? The wife is pregnant and can't work. I think she's due to give birth soon, actually, and they could use all the help. Besides, it would be a shame to throw away perfectly good food :)

Don't you want it, miss? When we first met, you told me you didn't have a good financial situation.

Oh, no, no. I'll be fine. They need it more.

Very well, please give it to them.

Ah, I also remembered you left some money on your nightstand. With all due respect, Mr. Hwang, that's very irresponsible. Anyone could take it.

Were you lecturing him? Him? Cute. In-ho even chuckled at your reprimand, finding it adorably amusing. If only you knew the things he did, the people he killed. How would you react? That question was beginning to take over his mind like a maggot wriggling inside of his brain. Would you be disgusted? Would you go to the police? Would you agree with his ways of cleaning the world of its impurities? It was no different than how you cleaned his penthouse — you both got rid of trash.

You're right, miss. There is a safe hidden in my wardrobe. Please put the money there. The code is 1321.

Surely you would crack at the sight of so much money and try to take some. No one sane would miss such an opportunity. But then again, maybe you weren't sane. Maybe you just needed a little push, a little encouragement. In-ho poured himself a glass of whisky and thought about the wound on your cheek, and the night you were crying on his kitchen floor. Someone had hurt you, and he needed to find out who so he could exploit that. And then, you would break. 

He was, however, slightly conflicted, because he didn’t want to ruin you. In-ho merely wanted to make you see things eye to eye. Just like him, life had been unfair to you. And just like him, you needed to survive. Kindness wouldn't take you very far — you had to witness the cruelty of the world somehow, and the only possible way to do that was to play the game and survive it, something In-ho knew you would never do due to your values and morals. And he couldn't wait one more year to push you past your limits. He needed to think of something else, and he needed to do it fast — time was ticking and you were a project he refused to let slip through his fingers.

In-ho checked the cameras at the time you normally arrived at the penthouse, patiently waiting for you. He was pleased to see that you were in a better mood, cheerfully greeting Eunjoo as you went about with your tasks, but something was different. You appeared to be texting someone, and he never received any notifications on his phone, yet you were quite busy chatting back and forth. His stomach churned, an amalgamation of feelings bubbling and boiling in his core. Anxiety? Anger? Jealousy? 

Jealousy.

You always sent him a text upon your arrival. You always let him know that you were there, so who occupied your mind if not him? The sudden lack of the very little control he had over you made him trip in his room and lose balance, and he forcefully ripped the mask off and tossed it on the floor. 

In-ho was losing the bet he made with himself, and not in the way he had imagined.

It wasn't him who lived in your mind, but you who invaded his, and it infuriated him, because after his wife died, he refused to get attached, refused to fall in love. Luckily for him, it wasn't love that he felt for you, but an unhealthy obsession to watch you, to know your every move, to find out who hurt you and make you hurt them back. 

You performed your tasks with utmost perfection, and placed the money in his safe while ignoring the riches inside it, but you were distracted, constantly looking at your phone and half-smiling whenever it lit up. In-ho couldn't have that. 

How's Eunjoo?

Since you were so busy talking to someone, he expected you to frown at his text, to scoff and ignore it. But you did worse. You stopped folding his clothes and sat on the edge of his bed, beaming at the message on the screen.

She's alright! We had dinner and a cuddle, and now she's playing next to me. I'll send you a picture!

In-ho watched you struggle to take a photo of the cat — each time you took out your phone, Eunjoo stopped playing, so you swapped to the front camera, trying to sneak a picture. You even smoothed your hair and made yourself look presentable, and he found it quite adorable that you tried to look presentable for him.

I'm sorry you have to see my face, but she wouldn't sit still for a photo!

You were stunning. It was all In-ho could think about when he opened the photo. Your bright eyes were like a drug to him, instantly hooking him, forcing him to regain a shred of humanity.

Don't apologise, miss. You're beautiful.

There it was, the crack he so desperately sought for. You were practically hyperventilating in his bedroom, struggling to breathe, constantly rereading the words on your phone. And then he heard you talk to Eunjoo, heard you question your own sanity. But no, In-ho didn't like you. He was simply interested in breaking you, oblivious to how you were breaking him.

"Damn it. I promised Donghyun I'd go for a coffee after work tomorrow. I'm so confused now." Your distorted voice crackled through his speaker, and In-ho clenched his jaw, barely stopping himself from breaking his phone.

Who the fuck was Donghyun? And more importantly, why did he care? 

He didn't care, or at least that was what he told himself for the past few days. He didn't care. He didn't give a shit about you. He didn't-

The familiar words of Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon stopped him dead in his tracks. In-ho turned the volume up, still in disbelief that you knew the song, that you sung it in his bedroom like no one was watching you. It was impossible how similar you were to him, to how he was before life took a turn. But a song and a kind heart weren't enough to change him. It was far too late for that. The only possible outcome was for you to become like him, and he wouldn't accept anything else.

For the first time, In-ho didn't offer you privacy when you stepped into his bathroom. For the first time, he watched as you peeled off each layer of clothing, and for the first time, he saw every scar and scratch, every burn and bruise on your body, new and old, and he understood. You had already faced the realities of this cruel world, and you chose not to become vengeful. Your father died, your uncle abused you, and yet, you shined.

The unforeseen urge to protect you seeped through his veins, but not before you got your revenge. You deserved to get revenge more than anyone in the world. And if you didn't want that, he'd make you want it one way or another.

"Fuck." In-ho whispered when his cock twitched in his trousers at the sight of your bare body. So vulnerable. So weak. So perfect. 

He sat down, phone in one hand and his eyes only on you. It was pure instinct when he fisted his cock, pure instinct when your name spilled from his lips, pure instinct when he imagined you under him, wriggling and writhing, pure instinct when he came on his fingers, disgusted with himself.

Pure instinct. Nothing more.

tagging: @ri1liane  @anmert1  @syraxnyra  @frshluvcats  @lanyia  @mettreads  @nightdark-dreamdark  @bridge-always  @lovekm  @audrey223  @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry  @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear  @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesblog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @warlabels @xcinnamonmalfoyx @rickgrimesismydaddy1 @jasonpetertoddismygod @marihoneywk @llghtsnoww @torkorpse @salivasupplier @okqur @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @certifiedlevisimp @kiss-themoongoodbye @bluehourss @alexa554 @sinful-tawtute @ithoughtthinks @nacatna-blog @riri53 @alexisabirdie @houta-habtet-houta

[vrystalius]

Sleeping with the Squid Game men.

No, not like that. The fluffy and cuddly way to sleep with them.

Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader (you have a soft chest/boobs)

Summary: What it’s like to share a bed with your favourite man

Genre: Fluff, slightly suggestive

Words: around 500 words per person; around 2.5-3k words in total

Note: The way I had to google for sleepy/sleep pictures for the actors is crazy 😭

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

He is a very light sleeper but never obviously shows it when he wakes up. Your husband likes to act like he is asleep so you can hold him in silence for longer. His favourite position is to spoon you with you facing him, his face buried into your soft chest, getting pleasantly smothered by your warmth.

He’s a very quiet sleeper and barely ever snores, but his hand sometimes twitches in his sleep and accidentally slaps you lightly.

His sleeping face is soft and almost angelic, his lips squished together into a soft pout when he’s asleep. His hair is spread over the pillow and his arm tightly wrapped around you, as if afraid to be alone again like before he met you.

You took a picture of his sleeping face once. You wanted to use it as a wallpaper for your phone because of how adorable his cheeks looked on there but you somehow lost it. Maybe it was deleted somehow or by someone.

In the mornings seeing him so confused and messy, his hair ruffled by sleep and his eyes still droopy is quite a sight.

His groans are deep, sleepy and raspy. When you brush your hand over his face, you can feel a little bit of a morning stubble on his chin and cheek.

The morning is the only time you can see your husband so off guard, so comfortable. He’s always so on guard otherwise, but now? A dreamy smile and quiet hums of content scape his lips as his eyes sleepily scan your equally tired features.

You two don’t often have lazy mornings but when you do, your husband likes having your head in his chest while his hand traces invisible patters all over your skin, his other arm behind his head in a comfortable posture.

“Are you comfortable like this? I can make some breakfast for us if you like.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

Snores loudly, takes up all the space in bed, drools and doesn’t give a fuck. Thanos likes to spread himself out and then complain about you not spooning him like it’s your fault his arm literally took more space on your bed than you had for yourself.

He talks in his sleep and has periods where he snores very loudly and then goes very quiet, making you think he’s either awake or dead. He is neither though, just in a very deep sleep.

He hogs all the blankets too, that dick. Thanos steals them from you and cuddles onto them, thinking you are the blanket, whining in his sleep about you not hugging him back and his drool spilling all over the blanket.

Also, has the ugliest sleeping face ever. So ugly it’s almost cute, especially the way his mouth falls open and he gets a double chin when his mouth falls agape, or when Thanos begins to frown during his sleep or even cross his arms angrily when he doesn’t like the dream he’s having.

In the mornings he is more like a zombie than a human. He can’t get up without you practically dragging him out of bed and even if you succeed, your boyfriend will curl up on the floor and continue sleeping there.

During cozy mornings, he likes getting his chin scratched by you. He pouts and lazily holds his head up so you can give him the mandatory scratches while his eyes slowly close again as you lull him back to sleep.

He also is very sensitive when it comes to where he can fall asleep. There either has to be complete silence or some white noise playing in the background. Like a child, he can’t fall asleep in front of the TV or when anything else is playing in the background.

Thanks to you he Thanos can’t sleep on his own anymore. Either he has to facetime you and fall asleep on the call or be there with you. He is your problem forever now.

“I don’t need to announce my visit, I’m your boyfriend! I don’t give a shit if it’s 2am either, move your gorgeous ass, I wanna lay down too.”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

For some reason, Nam-gyu cannot lay still. He turns and moves around all night, even talking full on sentences while being fully asleep. If you’re lucky you can have full on conversations with him.

He doesn’t move towards you but in fact actively tries to escape your cuddles. Apparently he likes his freedom. And your pillows.

Instead of stealing your blankets, Nam-gyu snatches the pillow from under your head to hug it and hoard it for himself. He doesn’t drool on it but you did catch him giving it an awkward kiss while he was out like a light.

His sleeping face looks stressed for some reason. He’s frowning as if he just went through the messiest divorce or was abandoned by his mom in the mall. It softens up once your fingers brush over his cheekbones to push some hair away.

Nam-gyu is not a morning person but can force himself out of bed pretty easily. To wake you he heads to the bathroom to let cold water wash over his hands in the sink and then throws the water droplets at your exposed skin or grabs your warm feet from beneath the blanket.

Due to his job as a club promoter and not really having anything to do during the day, your boyfriend is almost always available for many lazy mornings.

He likes to lay his head on your warm stomach and scroll through his phone or angle his camera to snap a selfie of your sleeping beauty face and putting it as the wallpaper of your chats.

Also, an admirable talent of his is that Nam-gyu can fall asleep anywhere at any time. Loud wedding you were invited to? He’s catching a quick nap in the corner of the venue. He has 10 minutes before the club opens? His head is resting on your shoulder in deep sleep while you two wait on a random bench nearby.

“You don’t like the pic I took? I think it’s pretty. And I think you look pretty no matter what… don’t act like you ever took a picture of me when I was sleeping. I know you.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

Thanks to both growing up in a big household and his time serving in the marines, once he’s out, he’s out. Dae-ho can sleep through vacuum-cleaning, hammering nails into walls, a storm, you trying to wake him up and through most of his alarms.

You know that calling out to him like a drill-sergeant would be extremely mean and insensitive to his troubles. You know he’s still scarred, so you’ll keep trying to talk and shake him awake.

Your boyfriend barely snores, just lets out the occasional sigh and groan here and there. His cheek is often squished against his pillow while he lays on his stomach, his lips parted and mouth slightly agape. His sleeping face is extremely cute, vulnerable almost.

His voice is extremely raspy in the mornings and his expression formed into a permanent sleepy pout while he is standing by the stove to make himself a grilled cheese. You just sit there and enjoy the view of his defined muscles in the back working.

Dae-ho needs to hold you to fall asleep. It grounds him in reality and reminds the scared part of his brain that you’re here with him, that you’re not going anywhere and leave him on his own. Whenever you’re with him, he can fall asleep with a smile.

Your smell and warmth alone can lull him into a deep sleep in seconds. If your hands begin to remove his hairtie and your fingers run through his hair to untangle any knots, he’s an absolute goner.

Lazy mornings are pretty rare with him, you’d have to tire him out the night before to get him to still be sleepy in the morning.

Dae-ho took a video of you being asleep and squished up against his soft chest, your drool staining his shirt on one side of his chest and your free hand squeezing his other. You never saw that video before, it cracks him up too much to let it be deleted by you.

“Don’t let go, I still need you here with me… I love you, you know that?”

Gi-hun // Player 456

Gi-hun curls up into a fetal position when he sleeps. His face is hidden beneath the sheets, only his eyes and nose peeking out. He snores very quietly and they stop abruptly whenever he begins to stir.

He thinks he’s being slick by acting asleep and listening to what you��re doing but it’s pretty obvious when those adorable snores stop.

Even if he isn’t much of a morning person he still forces himself out of bed and brews a cup of coffee for you two.

You watch as Gi-hun sits with his cup at the edge of the bed, watching the sun rise higher and higher, enjoying the quiet morning. Peace, even if it’s temporary.

He likes holding you in his sleep and having your head nuzzled in his shoulder, but your boyfriend prefers to be held instead. He desperately craves comfort and security and you always spoil him with exactly that.

Your hand slowly and soothingly brush over his back while his arms were tightly wrapped around you, his eyes tightly shut and face buried in your warm chest.

His sleeping faces are surprisingly handsome and peaceful, his mouth shut most of the time. His brows are furrowed in permanent stress though that only seems to go away when he feels the bed shift beneath him, indicating that you just joined him.

Gi-hun likes sharing a bed with you. It’s intimate and a sacred tradition. Falling asleep and waking up next to you feels like you two bonded over night, two souls enjoying being near each other. Maybe it sounds sappy but that’s how it feels to him.

Lazy mornings are rare because he cannot seem to relax and let his guard down, ever. There’s always something on his mind, something to do and that damn salesman to find. You can shut him up by smothering him with a pillow once he begins to ramble about those weird games again.

“I’m exhausted, I’m sorry if I’m being selfish, but join me? I can’t sleep without you.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

You’ll have to force him to sleep for more than 4 hours a night. Even if the games are not happening right now or it’s still half a year until recruitment, In-ho is always busy with something. It sometimes feels like he’s trying to get out of sleeping in the same bed with you.

When you finally get him to stay in bed with you, it takes a while for him to fall asleep in addition to him being a very light sleeper in general.

He’ll count every tile in the ceiling, scan your face for any new features he might’ve missed or that have changed since last night, then he’ll waddle into the kitchen for a glas of water and then maybe, maybe he’ll begin to slowly fall asleep.

When you wake him up in the mornings, he wakes up like he had the most horrific nightmare just now; eyes shot wide open and a deep gasp emitting from his lips. Your husband always assures you he doesn’t have any though.

He snores in his sleep but it’s more of a pleasant/relaxing sound rather than an annoying dad-snore. They are quiet and rhythmic, giving you quiet reassurance that he’s still peacefully resting next to you.

His face is relaxed as the worry lines in his face slowly melt away, his hair uncared for and his arm shifting around to find your warm skin to touch. He prefers to be the big spoon and have your face nuzzled into his chest or neck, where he can always feel your warm breath and heartbeat.

You gave into the temptation to take a picture of his adorable face once, but In-ho felt an disturbance in the air and shot his eyes open to stare at your face before you could snap your picture. This man can never be caught of guard it seems.

Sometimes you catch him falling asleep in his office, his body curled up in the leather chair as his head hung forward slightly, his glass of whiskey still in his hand with a firm grip on it. He almost dropped it once you woke him up by the way In-ho got startled awake.

“Sorry, I lost track of time. I’m coming to bed now, no need to drag me—“

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

I always write about the things I want the most; sleep and cuddles. Sleepy cuddles? Whenever I use C.AI I always choose a “sleepy” prompt since I mostly use it after waking up or during breaks, times where I am always very sleepy and in need of affection 😭 Hope this wasn’t too weird to read.

Also I did T.O.P so nasty with the pic I chose I’m sorry 😭😭

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <33

Take care of yourselves and stay safe my dears!!

[whxre-bxby]

Player 001 (Young-il) x Reader

"Poor Little Y/N..."

My attraction to older men fuels the creativity within me to write

Oneshot - angst, death, blood, silent attraction, romantic feelings Masterlist

When Gi-hun decides to rebel against the guards and marches out of the player's room with his small army, you join them. Innocent, caring little Y/N, who's never held a gun in her life nor seen one before she ended up in these games, bravely sucks up her fear of dying and breaks the rules by exiting with the armed players. Among those are Young-il and other people you trust now.

You go because your fear of losing them and watching not a single one of them return is far worse than your instinctive fear of death.

Lovely, selfless Y/N who holds in her tears and forces her trembling hands to calm down while aiming her weapon at guards and pulling the trigger.

After leaving the stairs on which your group has been ambushed, you make it to a corridor when Gi-hun and Jung-bae leave you behind to advance further into this hellhole of a place.

You don't like splitting up but you can't stop them, so you stay with the group, continuing to help them through the gunfight. But then Young-il shouts that he is going after them and needs two people. Young-il, who's been a trusted member since you all met him after the first game. The man who pulled you into a room with him when the voice announced the number 2 during Round-And-Round, saving you without hesitation.

The man who insisted you take his pillow to hug at night because you couldn't fall asleep without the comfort of clutching something against you. Even though you kindly rejected his offer, he didn't take no for an answer and didn't leave the side of your bed until he was sure you accepted his gift and were as comfortable as you could be in this place.

So of course, you volunteer to go with him, as do two other men. He glances at them before his gaze rests on you a little too long, and you can see the gears of thought turning in his head. His expression isn't so stern and tense anymore and you watch his eyes soften as his head slowly leans back against the wall.

"No...not you, Y/N..." he says, his voice no longer loud, before waving the two men over to him and leaving with them. His words stung you deeply. You didn't understand why he said that to you. Oh, only if you knew he was going to betray the two good players he brought with him...

Brave and dedicated Y/N, who feels it's been to long since she's heard from either Gi-hun's team or Young-il's, so she runs after them, towards the control room. The sound of distant gunshots has your kind little heart racing with adrenaline. The urge to help and protect being stronger than your will to live.

What life would it be if you knew you could have helped, but didn't? What if they all died while you would cowardly wait and hide. You would be tortured by those thoughts forever.

Fast but scared Y/N, who sprints through the cold-coloured hallways and up levels of stairs, past dead guards and over puddles of blood because as long as you haven't found your friends' dead bodies, you have a reason to live and fight on.

Close gunshots no longer scare you. It could be your team firing them. But then you reach the first proper obstacle. The two players who went with Young-il were dead and their bodies pierced by bullets. The sight startles you, but you've seen this before. As long as it's not one of the other three, you can live with it. You have to. So you continue up the stairs, desperately wanting to find someone you know for your comfort and safety.

Shocked yet relieved Y/N who finds Young-il on the other side of the stairs, gun in hand but body slumped on the ground and tracksuit splattered with blood.

Such a good heart you have... immediately running to his side and checking up on him. He seems to be fine, though you can't be sure until you know where he's been hurt.

Silly you, that blood isn't his.

You don't even pay attention to the confused and unexpected look in his eyes. Oh, he did not expect anyone to find him now. He wasn't sure what to say or how to act anymore. Young-il thought his time of pretending to be Player 001 had come to an end. But he had to keep up the act in front of you right? Right?

He couldn't. It all happened so fast, he could just sit back and watch you hug him before you search for a wound to explain the bloodstains. Your face painted in great worry and distress. Your commitment to improving his wellbeing astounded him.

But the dream-like moment didn't last long and was canonically interrupted when footsteps were heard rushing down the other flight of stairs, towards the two of you.

Young-il had no reason to fear them. But you, who at this point were frightened by the very sight of them, made the alarm in your head start ringing. You abruptly turned around, facing them instead of the face you found great comfort in.

Young-il, who suddenly felt his heart drop deep into his gut when he realised the danger you could be in now.

Brave but teary-eyed Y/N, who sits on her heels in front of her friend, attempting to shield him while shouting at them to stop.

Young-il, who panics, wanting to move you behind him while attempting to wave the guards away, or at least not to open fire. But then it happens. The sound of a gunshot echoes through the cold walls and before either of you can process anything, the impact the bullet caused, had your body falling back. You land next to him, head supported against the wall and lock eyes with Young-il. A look of wide-eyed shock takes over his expression and he can only watch the consequences of his actions unfold before him.

Your trembling arms reach out for him, but not for help. You're still trying to save him, but your attempts are weak. Another harsh bang rings in both your ears and that does it. As the second bullet buries itself deep in your flesh, having pierced through vital organs, the light in your eyes vanishes and your body goes limp next to him.

Young-il can't move. You, the only person who's shown this kind of care for him in years, are now dead because of him and his actions. He made you trust him and now he had to watch you pay the price for his mistake. He should have never shown you any attention.

Poor little Y/N... your pretty body has failed you. But it was your heart that killed you.

Yes, I know. Tragic. Sorry. I'm sure you'll survive in other fics.

It's past midnight but fuck it I'm posting it.

[frost-queen]

🅲🅷🅾🅸🅲🅴🆂 // part 2 (Reader x Young-il / player 001)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex--awesome--22  @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @anjautembear, @noiyaaa, @filmedbyharkness , @uniquecutie-puffs

Summary: Waking up to another day in the games, you prepare yourself for the next game. Yet with one person extra, what team will you choose for the next round? [series]

Lights flashed on.

Awoken by the same emotionless voice, followed by a wake-up melody. You came sitting up, not even sure if you had been able to catch some sleep. Too stressful to endure another game. Unsure what it would be this time and if you would even make it out alive.

Jun-hee woke up beside you. Glancing frightful your way. She seemed to fear the same thing. She threw her legs over the side, taking Dae-ho’s hand to help her up. You crawled from your bed over to hers. Throwing your legs over the edge as well.

Dae-ho still waiting there to lend you a hand. He gave you a comforting pat on your shoulder. Perhaps haven seen the fear in your eyes. Jung-Bae came joining him with an exhausting exhale. Gi-Hun touched his shoulder, slightly pushing him aside to pass through.

You wished you had the determination he seemed to held within himself. Young-il stood by the beds, looking down at you. Something about his gaze gave you the comfort of being safe, but wary as well. Jung-hee tugged at your sleeve, claiming your attention.

You hooked your arm around hers, going down the platforms with her. Walking across the centre of the room to head for the pink door on the left. You didn’t mean to look, but something compelled you to do. Thanos pointing at you, then making an O sign with his fingers. It made Jun-hee pull you closer to her.

Further away from where Thanos was. Holding onto to Jun-hee, you followed countless other ladies to the bathrooms. Jun-hee and you unhooked arms in the bathroom. Speaking with one glance. A secret language between females. We’ll wait for each other. Jun-hee moved to a stall on the left as you went for the right.

Closing the door behind you. Hands pressed against the door, you exhaled loud. Needing a moment to recover yourself. To get your nerves under control. The loss of control slipping through your veins. There was nothing you could do but endure another game.

Hoping the next vote would be in your favour. If only there had been an other way, but you knew as good as anyone there wasn’t any. Everyone in here in need for money. All for their own reasons. To yours it had more attachments. Not even being here for yourself. It was your last hope. Your last attempt to make it right.

To not bring grief upon your family. Inhaling loud, you clenched your hands. There was no time for self-pity. You needed to be strong and endure one more game. Knowing death might be close by. Waiting just behind the door to cut your string of life.

You met Jun-hee back in the middle whilst washing your hands. Her cheeks were a bit red, hinting she had been crying. Perhaps trying as much as you to be strong, but failed to lie to yourself. Jun-hee and you locked arms once again, going through the corridor back to the sleeping quarters.

By the time you got back, pink suits stood up front. Dealing out food and drinks. Jun-hee and you moved to the back of the line. Gi-hun came joining the two of you. Young-il right behind Gi-hun with his arms crossed. Shuffling closer with each movement of the line. Jun-hee removed her arm from you, accepting her food and drink. You accepted them after her.

Following her to where you gathered. Jun-hee sat down, keeping a hand on her stomach. You came sitting with her. Opening the package. Breaking your meal in two and handing one half to her. Jun-hee blinked surprised when you offered it to her. – “You must eat enough for two.” – you told her. Jun-hee shyly accepted your half. You smiled back, gaze shifting to the side.

Remaining still at Young-il, who had been watching. Watch you hand part of your food voluntarily to her. Gi-hun placing a hand on his shoulder, made him look away. Attention drawn away from you. Gi-hun led Young-il to sit with him. Dae-ho came joining your side with a satisfying exhale. Letting his shoulder bump against yours.

“Don’t worry Y/n, you have taken the right side.” – he joked making you look shyly down. – “One more game, right.” – you whispered to him. Dae-ho stuck his finger up. – “One more.” – he repeated. You so badly wanted it to be true, but deep down you knew it was a lie. Fooling yourself with this hopeless faith that the end would arrive. That you could be saved and walk away from the games.

“Y/n?” – Jung-bae spoke tapping you against your knee. – “What is your motive?” – he was curious to why you were here. Most of the people here were present due to depts. – “Jung-Bae!” – Gi-hun said as he felt it was inappropriate for him to ask. – “It’s alright.” – you answered with a gesture that it was alright.

You fumbled the bottle of water in your hand. – “I’m not here for myself…” – you began. All eyes turned on you to listen with care. – “I am not in any depts.” – you wanted to clear out. – “I…I am just in need of money for…” – sighing deep, it weighed down on you. Lip trembling to even remind yourself of it. To remind yourself of your father.

Your father who was at home in desperate need of a surgery. Your mother haven worked herself to the bone, unable to provide much help. Pictures flashed before your mind. Seeing your father lay sick in his bed. Your mother crying and praying at his side. Not having moved from that spot much. Praying to the Gods to give him more time. Closing your eyes, you wanted to drown out those thoughts.

Jun-hee reached for your hand, taking it in hers. Gaze meeting up with hers, seeing her grant you a comforting smile. Taking a deep breath, you found a little bit of courage deep inside of you. Recollecting yourself. – “The surgery is too much… my father won’t survive much longer without it.”

Jung-Bae nodded, patting his hand comfortingly on your knee. You smiled to ease the sudden sour vibe. Wiping your eyes dry. “Please be ready for another game will start.” – sounded over the intercoms. A shot of fear firing up your spine. – “We can do this.” – Dae-ho said to encourage not only himself.

All of you got up, following the crowd to the centre of the room. The pink suits coming out to watch over. Forming a line. Heading out of the door. Classical music blasted through the speakers while going up the maze of stairs. All in line to follow the other in front of them. You were walking behind Jun-hee. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Dae-ho, Young-il right behind him.

A piercing gaze shooting right through you. Up and up you went. Players each taking a step to reach their destination. To head for death’s door. Not sure who it would claim. You needed a moment to blink. Adjusting to the brightness of the room. Blue skies and white clouds painted on the walls.

Lines of colour painted on the floor in a loop. Feeling a sudden presence behind you, made you look up. Surprised to see Young-il right behind you. Looking back at you with barely a smile. It was there if you looked more closely. Your eyes widened when his hand touched your lower back.

Pushing you gently forwards to make more room for other players to enter. All players looking wonderous around. The same emotionless voice spoke through the speakers. Telling you to form groups of five for the next game. You looked back at your anew friends. Counting in your mind, that you were with one person too many.

They seemed to notice it as well. The fear clear in their eyes that one of them had to go separately. All too scared to say who needed to leave. The clock in the back counting down. Only having a certain amount of time to pick your groups.

Many players were walking around nervously. Trying to find a good group. – “Seniorita s’cuse me.” – you heard once more behind your back. Turning round, you saw Thanos and Nam-Gyu approaching. Thanos sniffing loud whilst touching his nose whilst walking over. – “Join my team.” – he said gesturing at you.

You got grabbed by your shoulder, shoved back as a person came standing in front of you. Young-il. His stare cold enough to make Nam Gyu cower. Thanos wasn’t much impressed. Tilting his head to the side to look at the gathering behind him. – “Looks like your team is already full and time is running out.” – Thanos reminded you all.

It made you swallow nervous as he was right. One of you needed to leave. Young-il didn’t move, keeping his ground. Thanos attempted to move to you, but with the first movement, Young-il had grabbed him firm by the shoulder. – “No!” – he said firm, shoving him back. Thanos stumbled back against Nam-Gyu.

“Young-il…” – you spoke seeing the countdown on the clock. Most people already forming groups. Young-il turned around to look at you. Something beggingly in his eyes. Not with him. Pleading with you to not team up with Thanos. – “I’ll leave.” – Jun-hee cut through holding her hand up. – “No!” – you immediately called back at her. You knew her best chances where with them.

You started to look around. Searching for other players you could join. Eyes falling on a player, moving nervously around. With one look, you knew it was with she you needed to be. – “I’ll leave.” – you said already moving away. Feeling a sudden tug on your hand. Young-il holding you back by your wrist. – “I’ll be alright.” – you reassured him, removing his grip from you. Young-il nodded slowly.

You walked off. Thanos wanting to go after you, if not for young-il blocking his path to you. Forcing him to find a teammate elsewhere. You neared the nervous woman. – “I’m sorry.” – you began, making her turn back at you. Player 120 you read. – “Can… can I join your team?” – you asked equally nervous as her. She nodded. Two more players came joining. Mother and son. One more girl joined, completing the number of five.

The timer counted 0. The emotionless voice coming through once more. “Please sit in your groups and decide who will do what game.” Players started to move to come sit down in their groups. Your friends becoming visible. All looking back at you. You smiled back at them to make sure they shouldn’t worry.

Player 120 nudged you to follow her. You came sitting down with your group. Dividing the mini games amongst each other. Yours. Spinning toll. Exhaling deep, you hoped to calm yourself. The first teams getting prepared to play. Your eyes were glued on the timer. The countdown starting. The first group started walking in sync.

One two, one two, one two. They chanted out to push forwards. Arriving at the first game. Ddakji. It took the first person a few attempts to flip it upside down. Onwards they went to Flying stones. The stone heavy in his hands as you noticed the shivering knees. The first swing flew right over the stone.

So did the second, third and fourth. They were losing a lot of time with flying stones. You didn’t want to watch anymore. Covering up your eyes and leaning closer to player 120. Hoping she wouldn’t mind.

Player 120 briefly glanced down at you. Saying nothing about it. Through your fingers, you peeked at the countdown. They were losing time and fast. The group getting desperate and chaotic. The guy who needed to swing, quivering under the pressure. It took him little attempts to finally knock it over.

Heading over for the third game. A game they never managed to reach. Time stopping at 0. All of them started to beg, dropping to their knees for mercy. You turned your gaze away, not wanting to see them get shot before your eyes. Your head leaning against player 120’s chest.

She wrapped an arm around you, body flinching at the shot. Pink suits with a triangle on their mask approached. Clearing the room with dead bodies. Not even bothering to clean up the blood. Player 149 gasped loud when a pink suit approached. Gesturing at them to move. Player 120 was the first one to stand up.

You followed, feeling your heart pound out of your chest. A warmth settling there. Nervousness rushing through your veins. Player 120 took your hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Your group followed the pink suit to the start line.

Your gaze went to the crowd. Seeing Young-il look past Gi-hun at you. This time he wouldn’t be able to save you. To help you out. None of your friends would. This time you needed to trust in yourself. Trust in the people you were with.

Young-il gave you a comforting nod. Gi-hun holding his thumb up to you. Jun-hee gesturing a heart at you. Absorbing their comfort. The pink suit knelt down to lock your legs together. Looking at your new team mates, there was some uncertainty. It was also clear that you felt like the underdogs.

Those that many would think would not survive. Seeing the state of your group, who could blame them. Your gaze went up to the timer. Arms locking. Waiting for the countdown. Taking a deep breath. Start!

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[catchastarorten]

—Two sides of a coin.

Pairing: Young-il / Hwang In-ho x fem!reader

Summary: when he went into the games and blended in as a player, he didn’t expect himself to start caring for you so much. However, during Mingle, he realized you might not be so different from him…

Warnings: In-ho & Young-il are interchangeable—I used both in here, violence, death, him being concerned for you a lot, fast-paced, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 2.0k

You had caught his attention early on, long before you had even spoken to him. You weren’t like the others—no frantic alliances, no desperate pleas. You moved through the games like a shadow, calculating but not ruthless, detached but not cold. You held people at a distance, but you weren’t cruel about it. That intrigued him.

He watched how the others in his group gravitated toward you, despite knowing next to nothing about you. You let them in just enough to function as a team, but no further. And yet, there were moments when you let something slip—when your guard lowered just slightly, a half-smile at Jung-bae and Dae-ho, a quick hand extended to steady Jun-hee when she winced in pain, her hands covering her stomach.

It made In-ho wonder. Who were you, really? What had brought you here?

More than that—why did he care?

He wasn’t supposed to. He was here with a purpose. Not to get attached. And yet, every time a new game started and ended, his first instinct was to check on you. To make sure you were still there. Still breathing. Still alive.

Like now.

The platform beneath him whirred as Mingle began again, spinning slow but fast enough to disorient, especially in a state of panic, though he barely felt it. The more players lost, the more chaotic it became. Fear made people desperate, and desperate people were unpredictable.

His eyes stayed on you.

You stood with your usual quiet focus, weight balanced perfectly, already anticipating the moment the platform would stop.

The moment the platform jerked to a halt, the voice crackled overhead:

“Five.”

Panic erupted around him instantly.

People lunged, grabbing at whoever was closest, shoving and clawing to form groups. He ignored them all, moving toward you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing your wrist—

And then someone crashed into him.

The impact sent him stumbling just enough to lose sight of you.

His heart pounded against his ribs.

No.

Shoving past bodies, he searched for you, ignoring the hands trying to pull him into groups, or Dae-ho’s constant call for him. The countdown was already ticking down, but his only thought was find her, find her, find her.

Then he saw you.

You had spotted the others—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Dae-ho. They were waving at you, shouting from the front of one of the rooms they found empty.

Four.

They needed one more.

You didn’t make a move right away, your head turning around as if you were looking for something—or someone. Then, your eyes locked with In-ho, the lingering look told him to go with the group, and he felt his breath hitch.

Before In-ho could try to communicate that you needed to be the one who’s safe—you ran.

Not towards the room, but into the waves of people scrambling to find others to get into a room.

He cursed under his breath and ran toward the other four, who all shouted for him.

The doors slammed shut. His breathing quickened by the thought of you being eliminated. What if you didn’t find another group? What if you didn’t find a room?

A moment later, the final buzzer sounded, and the doors locked.

The ones who had failed to form groups pounded against the locked doors, their screams cut short by the inevitable gunshots. The guards moved in, silent and efficient, dragging the bodies away.

It should have been routine. In-ho had seen this before. He had orchestrated it before.

But he barely saw any of it.

Because all he could think was—was she inside?

Had you made it?

When the clean-up was over, the doors unlocked, allowing the players to come out of the rooms. In-ho’s first thought was to look for you in the crowds of players.

You stepped out from another room. Alive.

He felt the air rush from his lungs.

For a second, he didn’t move. Just stood there, taking in the sight of you, as if his mind needed proof. You walked out with that same composed stride, only the slight rise and fall of your chest betraying the fact that you had almost died.

And then—then you smirked.

That soft, knowing smirk. Like you were telling him, I’m fine. See? You didn’t need to worry.

Something inside him snapped.

Before he could stop himself, his feet carried him forward, fast, almost desperate. He barely registered the others, barely cared if they noticed.

He just needed—

He stopped inches away from you.

His breath was steady, but his hands twitching at his sides. He had almost lost you. The realization crashed into him harder than it should have. It unsettled him, made his pulse hammer in a way he didn’t like. He had known fear before, but never like this.

And you—damn you, you just stood there, watching him with those unreadable eyes. You had no idea. No idea how close he was to pulling you into his arms just to make sure you were real. To confirm you were still here. He forced himself to breathe, to shove the instinct down.

You smirked again, tilting your head slightly. “Missed me?”

“You worried me.” Young-il said simply, trying to calm himself, giving you a smile, though it felt a bit forced.

“I saved you too.”

—

The last round.

The tension was suffocating.

126 players left. Only 50 rooms. It meant 26 people were guaranteed to die if the remaining players were required to form pairs.

You felt it in the way the bodies around you tensed, the way some players shifted closer together, while others eyed their competition like prey.

The platform had barely stopped spinning when the announcement came.

“Two.”

Young-il didn’t hesitate. He didn’t stop to think, didn’t give himself a moment to assess. His body moved purely on instinct. His hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist in a firm grip, and before you could react, he pulled you forward.

“Come on!"

There was no time to wait. No time to look for anyone else. He needed you by his side, needed to ensure that you wouldn’t be swallowed by the chaos erupting all around.

And it was chaos.

Players lunged for one another, hands grabbing, shoving, desperate to form pairs before the rooms filled. The knowledge that not everyone would make it—that some would be left behind to die—drove them to madness. Some scrambled without thought, others moved with purpose, pulling people down, throwing punches, trampling those too slow to keep up.

The room was in sight.

Not far. Just a few more feet.

Then something slammed into him.

A body, heavy and frantic, slammed into his side with brute force, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him crashing to the ground. The grip on your wrist slipped away as his back hit the hard platform floor.

The player who tackled him was bigger—strong, but wild with panic. His hands clawed at Young-il’s teal tracksuit, trying to shove him back down. A split second’s hesitation in a game like this could mean death. He knew that.

But before he could fully react—before he could twist the man off him and take back control, you were already moving. No hesitation. You grabbed the man’s collar, your grip brutal and sure, and yanked him off with shocking strength. Young-il barely had time to register the movement before—

Crack.

A sickening sound, one that echoed in the madness.

Your foot came down hard, precise, against the man’s leg. The force of it snapped the bone like it was nothing more than a twig beneath your heel.

The man screamed—a raw, gut-wrenching sound—but it was already over. He collapsed, writhing, his face twisted in agony. But you weren’t looking at him, you were looking at Young-il.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, In-ho was stunned. Not by the violence. He had seen worse. Done worse. 

But by you.

The sheer efficiency of it. The lack of hesitation, the brutal finality in the way you moved. You didn’t even look at the man after you broke him. You didn’t hesitate, didn’t tremble, didn’t stop to think about what you had just done. There was no regret in your eyes. No guilt. Just cold, calculated action.

For a single breath, he just stared at you, trying to make sense of what he had just seen, of who he was looking at.

Then your fingers curled around his arm, yanking him to his feet with a sharp, urgent tug.

“Move!”

That single word shattered whatever had frozen him.

He shoved the thoughts aside and ran with you, the chaos of the game roaring in his ears. He could process it later. Right now, all that mattered was survival.

The room was just ahead, one of the few left.

One last sprint.

Young-il pulled you forward, feet pounding against the floor. Almost there. 

You both got inside.

The door slammed shut behind you.

For a moment, the world outside faded, the noise of screams muffled by the walls enclosing you both. The sheer brutality of the game had been left outside the door. Inside was silence, heavy and suffocating.

But then—a presence... A third person in the small room with you and Young-il.

A man stood against the far wall, panting, sweat forming on his forehead.

Young-il’s stomach coiled.

You weren’t safe yet.

“There’s only room for two,” he said, voice calm, controlled.

The man’s breathing hitched. His wild, panicked eyes darted between you and Young-il, looking for a way out, a way through.

“I—I was here first,” the man stammered. His voice wavered.

Young-il stepped forward, his presence looming, his voice quiet but sharp.

“Get out.”

The man flinched but held his ground. Desperation flickered in his expression, the refusal to accept his fate. “No way,” the other player tried to sound firm, his eyes flickered between the two of you again, desperate. “Please.”

Young-il exhaled sharply. There was no point in wasting words.

In a single, fluid motion, his arm shot out, wrapping around the man’s throat. The struggle was brief. Short-lived. The other player clawed at Young-il's arm, his legs kicking as they slowly slid down against the wall.

A sharp, sickening crack filled the air, final and absolute.

The body went limp against him. Dead weight.

Young-il let go of the body.

His breathing was quickened, but his eyes were steady. His heartbeat calm. He had done this before. Many times. It didn’t shake him. Didn’t bother him.

He looked up at you, and once again, you surprised him.

Because you weren’t shocked. You weren’t even remotely fazed. You stood by the door, blocking it, your eyes locking with his as if you had expected this outcome from the moment you entered and saw the other player. You hadn’t gasped, hadn’t flinched, hadn’t looked at him like he just committed some great treason.

You had simply accepted it as fast as it came.

And that—that sent something twisting inside him in a way he didn’t fully understand.

He had seen it in the way you moved, in the way you made decisions without hesitation. He had seen it in the way you had broken that man’s leg without a second thought, in the way you had looked at him after—assessing, calculating, but never afraid.

And now, in the quiet aftermath of the kill, you weren’t recoiling from him either.

No.

You were simply watching.

Like you had known all along exactly what he was capable of. And you didn’t care.

That sent a strange, sharp feeling through him. A curiosity. An understanding.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The doors locked with a click as the timer ran out, the sound of gunshots filled the air, the distant screams beyond the door fading as the game ended.

Finally, he exhaled, his fingers twitching at his side.

“We’re alive,” he said, voice steady. You just gave him a nod, turning your back to him as you looked to the chaos outside through the small space on the door.

Young-il rested against the wall, his mind processing all that had happened.

Then, his lips curled, a soft smirk that you couldn’t see.