Hwang Inho X Reader - Blog Posts

AHHH THIS NEEDS MORE LOVE AND ATTENTION AHH IM TWEAKING OUT THIS MADE ME FEEL SO MUCH ALL AT ONCE I LOVEE THIS SO FCKING MUCH

LADYBUG

pairing: dad's friend!hwang inho x fem!reader

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. AGE GAP (reader is 20, inho is 48) hurt comfort, daddy issues, domestic violence (reader has an abusive father) psychological issues, unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst, taboo kinks, fauxcest kink, DDLG themes, sub!reader, soft!dom inho, freudian slip except it's on purpose, reader literally calls him dad and appa and every variation of that title, badly written smut, pet names, infantilization, subspace, oral fixation, obsession, plot with porn.

DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. DON'T COMPLAIN.

summary: your father's friend has been your only saving grace through your abusive childhood. it's only natural that you fall in love with him.

word count: around 9.5k

A/N: consider this a love letter to the lee byung hun girlies with daddy issues. writing this was very self indulgent. i hope you guys like it. if you don't, consider moving on. no hate comments will be tolerated! there are bigger problems to worry about. we do not kink shame around here!

please ignore any mistakes.

p.s. feedback is a writer's biggest motivation!

MASTERLIST

the gravel digs painfully into the skin of your bare feet as you wait. you wrap your jacket tighter around yourself, teeth clattering against each other as you bounce your weight on your feet, breathing sharp. the door opens a few minutes after your incessant knocking, and mr. inho stands at the entrance, frowning. you were sure he was surprised to see you like this— it had been 2 years since you last met.

his soft hair looks messy and he's wearing a comfortable shirt with joggers. he looks so gentle, and his droopy, confused eyes snap wide open when his gaze lands upon your black eye. as if suddenly awake, he gasps your name and immediately grabs you.

"that bastard." he guides you inside, slamming the door behind the two of you. it makes you jump. "i'm going to—"

"don't." you whisper, looking up at him pleadingly. you grab his arm and your lips wobble as he glares down at you. "i don't have anywhere else to go. don't do anything rash. it really was my fault this time."

"nothing you do will justify him beating you." he snaps, settling you on the couch. he mumbles incoherent curses at his friend as he gets the first aid kid, and you fiddle with your fingers, flinching slightly as your tongue catches onto the bleeding split of your lip.

you'd sneaked out despite your father warning you not to. it was your friend's birthday, and you really wanted to be the first to wish her and give her a gift for once. she got you to stay at least till you had some cake, and unfortunately for you, on that same moment your father had decided to come home and immediately seek you out. he'd called your friend in a fit of rage, and as soon as you sneaked back inside, it was too late. to compensate, he'd knocked you into the wall and given you a black eye on top of that.

"i should put handcuffs on that bastard," inho snaps you out of your thoughts, kneeling before you. you wince as he gently applies antiseptic on your lip. "i don't understand why you won't let me. why do you let him do this to you?"

you had your reasons. the more rational ones were that your father was a sick, twisted piece of shit. a waste of space. but you had no one else. no source of income, no other place to stay. you wanted to study enough to be financially independent, and for that you needed him. you don't know any other way to live— he's isolated you from most experiences someone your age should have. you're not sure if you'll be able to get by without his roof over your head.

like always, you switch the subject.

"why are you still friends with him, then?"

mr. inho looks at you then and clenches his jaw. he simply glares for a moment. you're sure you see his eye twitch. he looks offended, and you understand why. you almost regret asking him this question— of course you knew why. you were lucky he was still friends with him. it's one of the reasons you're still alive and kicking.

"i'm not his friend. we just worked together," he grumbles lowly, "and even then i'm still around because of you. is that what you wanted to hear?"

you chuckle slightly, masking your flustered haze with a smirk.

"old man." you whisper with an endearing edge to your voice. he isn't amused. he stands up and gives you an ice pack for your eye. you slump into his couch and groan.

"when did you return from college?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"last week," you sigh, throwing your head back. the cold ice feels comforting against your heated skin. he frowns slightly and opens his mouth to speak— but you beat him to it.

"i was avoiding you." you answer his question. inho had been to your place a few times since you came, but you made no move to approach him. out of embarrassment and well, because you were scared to see him. it's normal with people you have crushes on.

he seems to understand because he doesn't mention it further.

"are you planning to stay?" he asks gently, putting his hands in his pockets. "i can get the guest room ready. it's been a while since you had a sleepover."

your heart flutters. mr. inho is... you don't have a proper way to describe it.

he's a lot of your firsts. he's everything.

mr. inho was there when you were 9 years old and struggling with math homework. mr. inho was there when your father would get too frustrated to teach you, and he'd put a hand on his shoulder and tell him to take a break. and then he'd place you on his lap, wipe your tears and help you with the gentleness you wish your father possessed.

mr. inho was there when you turned 12 and got your period for the first time. mom had passed away when you could barely walk, so you had no womanly guidance in your stages of growing up. shameful and scared and suffering from heavy fever, you had told your father about it, and instead of comforting you, he'd simply freaked and called you a slut and made all sorts of implications. not knowing any better, you'd locked yourself in the bathroom and immediately called mr. inho's number with shaky hands. and when the door opened and mr. inho walked in with warm towels and a bag full of necessities, you had broken down in his arms and told him everything.

that was the first time you saw mr. inho punch your father. it was also the first time you had seen someone be angry over you, not at you.

to protect you.

that's when you had your first sleepover at mr. inho's place, if you can call it that. your father had shamefully rushed off to the pub after getting an earful from the older man, and you were left alone in the house. mr. inho had brought you to his place, readied the guest room and stayed by your side till you fell asleep. the next day, he'd made you breakfast, and your father had apologized, in his own way.

when you went back home, a bunny plushie was waiting for you in bed. your father said he got it for you, but you could tell it actually came from mr. inho. your father never got you gifts. never. he didn't even know you liked power rangers, or max and ruby, or that dory was your favourite fish from finding nemo.

mr. inho had gotten you power rangers trump cards for your birthday. a malibu barbie doll the next. when you grew into your boyband phase, he got you a pencil box with your favourite idol too. most of the plushies in your rooms were gifts from him— mostly given in secret when mr. inho dropped your drunk father off at your place after a long day. you'd always stay up just for a glimpse of him— not willing to listen when he told you to just go to sleep. sometimes he'd hand you a package, give you a pat on the head and a wink. and then he'd leave, just like that.

you're not sure how mr. inho and your father became friends in the first place, if you can call it that. acquaintances is a better word, but they've known each other too long for that. they worked in the same police department and had partnered up multiple times until mr. inho retired.

most officers said they made a good duo in the professional sense— but their personalities seemed far from compatible.

your father was stubborn and temperamental. he was judgemental, toxic and a brute with a superiority complex. a true narcissist at heart. mr. inho was gentle and kind. he was compassionate and understanding. he was headstrong and stood for what he believed in. he was everything you wished your father was.

you will never understand how someone like him could befriend a man like mr. inho.

you were 13 when you gave mr. inho your first gift. you made him a fucking father's day card— you used to make those for your father when you were younger, and always saw them in the trash can the next day. it hurt you so much that you'd simply stopped.

the incident with your period was a major turning point in your relationship with mr. inho. it changed the way you saw him and in a way, reawakened your creativity. so you brought out your best colors, made him a stupid little card, and gave it to him in secret. hidden amidst the pages of a book your father had borrowed from him with no intention to actually read it. you were too scared and shy to gift it to him directly— you'd simply left the card in there and hoped for the best.

the next time your father dropped you at mr. inho's because he was working late again, you found the card pinned to the fridge. you don't remember being that happy in a long time.

that was the first time mr. inho had given you a forehead kiss. it was innocent and so... normal. like it was part of his routine. he didn't know that he had permanently solidified his place in your heart for years to come.

you were 14 when you first realized you had a crush on mr. inho. it was obvious enough, you just never thought there was actually a term for the butterflies you felt whenever he'd show up at your place to discuss work with your father. all you knew was you looked at him with the kind of admiration a girl could only carry for a loving father, except your feelings had grown a little more shameless over time, your thoughts sometimes vulgar. you'd get increasingly excited at the prospect of seeing him, to the point you saved up some money in secret and bought a lipgloss just so you'd put it on whenever he visited. you'd pout and lock yourself in your room when he wouldn't acknowledge it with anything but a smile and a pinch on the cheek. it's a little stupid to think of— a little girl with a crush trying so hard to impress a grown, married man.

you were 16 when you confessed, and he'd laughed— not mockingly. it was almost paternal. the universal reaction to moments where little girls with no social awareness say something silly like they want to marry their dad when they grow up. he made you feel that small again— he'd patted you on the head and told you that you're too young for him, and made a stupid joke about not planning to go to jail anytime soon. he told you that he loved you, but that this was wrong because he's a married man, and that you should be with someone your age. that this is a stupid crush that would fade with time. that you simply feel this way because you haven't met enough boys.

that had stung, but you forced yourself to get over it.

time passed but the crush did not fade by a single percent.

you tried to get yourself a boyfriend— and ended up comparing any potential date to mr. inho. none of them could match the intensity he carried, the way he cared for you like a father. the strength and authority he possessed. you remember one time when your father was out on a case and mr. inho had decided to babysit you— he'd taken you out for ice cream. a group of rowdy boys were littering the place and laughing among themselves. one of them tripped and crashed into you and you dropped your ice cream. you were too scared to ask for another. mr. inho had paused and shot them a deadpan glare— and the boys stared back before slowly advancing, picking up their litter and throwing it in the bin. they'd bowed in respect, apologized to you and rushed away before he could say anything further. that moment had stuck with you for years— how he could communicate with just his eyes, and people listened.

mr. inho bought you another ice cream with a smile after— with two scoops this time. strawberry and chocolate.

you looked for emotional maturity and a sense of responsibility in high school boys. it was bound to be a failure.

you were 18 when you tried to kiss mr. inho for the first time. it was stupid— it was your last act of rebellion before you went to college. you felt daring because his wife had passed not too long ago. he'd disappeared for a while after that, and his absence only made your longing for him grow. the insults and violence your father aimed at you became background noise eventually, because your mind was set on the one man who meant something to you.

in that time, you missed him so dearly, you were ready to let go of your dignity for one chance with the only man who had ever tried to care for you. you hated yourself for it still— for trying to take advantage of his kindness. he had come back a changed man— visibly stressed with dark circles etched permanently under his eyes. like he'd just been to hell and back. he looked like someone who could use a little something to take his frustrations out on— and you would have let him use you as his punching bag if he wanted. if he wanted a shoulder to cry on, you'd be there. if he wanted a fleshlight, you'd be there then too. that's how much you desired him. you thought you could make him feel better this way.

it was insensitive and utterly insane of you to do something so foolish. you were ready to be with him in any way, even if it meant as a rebound. but he'd stopped your attempt with a firm hand on your shoulder, looked at you with utmost seriousness, and told you to pull yourself together.

'don't do this,' he'd warned. and as if to stomp on your heart further, he reminded you that he loved his dead wife, and you were just a fucking kid.

you were a mess. you never tried initiating anything with him after that. you left off to college, and whenever you did come back, you made sure to avoid him at all costs, no matter how much it hurt you. you'd pretend you didn't see him text you about how college was going, or if you needed any help. you refused to answer his texts asking you to meet atleast once before you left. you were ashamed of your behaviour and too scared to face him. even when you could hear him ask your father about you whenever you visited. your father would make an offhanded remark about you doing god knows what and change the subject.

mr. inho had been more of a dad to you than your own father. he was there to tend to your wounds, to threaten to beat the shit out of your father and put him in jail— but you never allowed him to actually do it. your father was all you had for now, and you're scared to live in a world without a father. you know how harsh society can be to girls like that.

a truth you weren't ready to accept was that a big part of your refusal to let your father go was rooted in your desire to keep mr. inho. your father was your only link to him. if your father went away, so would your need to be protected by him. then mr. inho wouldn't come to your rescue. you wouldn't need safety or a shoulder to cry on. what if mr. inho decided he'd done his work, and moved on with his life? you can't have that. you're not ready.

you couldn't lose him too.

"i can't stay," you whispered finally, breaking eye contact. he nodded in understanding, walking up to you.

"is he asleep?"

you nodded, mindlessly biting your lower lip and flinching at the sting.

he tsked at your action and you stood up to leave. as you walked past him, he grabbed your hand. you looked at him then, and he shook his head.

"don't go to him," he whispered, pulling you closer. you wanted to run, to cower in on yourself. you were sure he didn't mean to appear so lovely. but he did. mr. inho was always lovely to you. tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you looked at him. why does he keep doing this to you? the last memory of you two is painful. but you're still here.

"just say the word and i'll get rid of him." he adds quietly, his palm squeezing your arm comfortingly. you simply stare at him— gaze full of stars like always. like he was your hero. his eyes soften and he sighs, leaning forward to pinch your cheek. you look away out of shame. to prompt you to respond, he messily ruffles your hair. the action almost makes you sob— he used to do that a lot when you were younger. his hand still feels so big compared to you. you compose yourself soon enough, refusing to fall into your adolescent folly.

"don't be ridiculous." you chuckle dryly, snatching your wrist from his hold. you grab the part of your arm that he had held and squeeze— hoping it would magically capture the essence of his grip and lock it away in your senses forever. he sighs tiredly and straightens up, his face hardening.

"i'm sorry." you whisper softly, immediately melting under his disappointed gaze. you regret your harsh behaviour. you show up bleeding at his doorstep at 3 in the morning and he lets you in— and this is how you treat him?

"you know it's not that easy." you add, voice small.

he grunts, rubbing a tired hand down his face.

"i'm sorry i bothered you," you can't help yourself, shifting to look at him more clearly. "i didn't have—"

"—anywhere else to go?" he finishes your sentence flatly with a clench of his jaw. he sounds exhausted, and it makes you want to cry. he scoffs slightly, "stop saying that. my door is always open for you. it always has been. since you were a kid. you know that."

you feel smaller and smaller with every sentence, and you nod sheepishly in agreement. it's true— he has always been there for you in a way no other man ever has. but still you can't help but fear that one day he'll grow tired of this cycle, of you, and straight up leave. he'll get bored of this dynamic and of looking after you and abandon you. you don't want to lose him. the difference between him and your father is that the latter is connected to you by blood— you can use your legal rights if he decides to abandon you. whereas you can't even imagine a world where mr. inho doesn't want to be around you. you don't want to imagine it. it's locked away in the treasure chest of your worst fears. so you simply reject any possibility of that opportunity to arise. would mr. inho still be around if your father didn't hurt you? would he still be around if he didn't feel sorry for you, if you didn't need him to protect you?

you'd rather things stay this way than consider the other scenario.

you avoided any encounter with him for two years, ignored his texts and calls, and now you appear at his door unannounced with a black eye and he still took you in. would he do the same if you had come bearing gifts instead? the idea replays in your head like a broken record.

would he?

you're an insane fucking mess.

he insists on driving you home. you can see the emotions in his gaze— don't leave. make the right choice. but you ignore it like you have for the past few years. you leave despite his pleas, and go right to sleep once you get into bed.

you can hear yelling. the voices are rushed, panicked almost. the floor creaks with each step, and you clutch your plushie close as you press your ear against the door. there's arguing, clattering. the sound of something breaking. more panicked noises. you can hear a siren in the background. your heart rate begins to rise, and when you hear another scream, you snatch the door open.

mr. inho stands over your father's corpse, panting. his knuckles are split and bleeding— splatters of crimson splattered across his face and body. your father's face is quite literally unrecognisable. you look at the broken plates by mr. inho's feet, and the glass shard in his hand. another shard jammed right in your father's chest. and then you scream.

your own scream wakes you up. sweat breaks out across your body and you take heavy breaths— looking around your room. your head hurts. your heart squeezes painfully inside your chest, and it prompts you to get out of bed to grab a glass of water.

you check the time. it's almost noon. shit.

your father is at the kitchen table reading the newspaper when you walk in. he does a double take— mouth curling with distaste as he spots the sight of your face.

you did that, you asshole.

you two don't say a word to each other. he folds the newspaper and places it on the table before breaking the news.

"i'm leaving the city for a case soon."

you pause, turning to look at him.

"i'll get someone to keep an eye on you so you don't whore yourself out to the whole neighborhood like you did last night," he adds casually, like he's talking about the weather. you want to lunge at him, grab the nearest object and toss it at his head. you want to scream 'im a virgin! im a virgin! the only thing that has ever fucked me over is the fact that i'm your daughter!' till the whole neighborhood hears.

"don't disappoint me when i come back."

you ignore his remarks, "when will you be back."

he laughs, "i'll drop in as a surprise." his sly eyes narrow at you playfully but you know better. "catch you in the act if you do something to embarrass me."

he sighs dreamily, tossing his head back, "this is gonna be a big one. i'll definitely get a promotion this time. finally something with real money."

you clench your jaw and focus on making breakfast, trying to erase the flashes of your dream from your brain. the doorbell rings and your father greets mr. inho— who doesn't return his enthusiasm. your father's head is too far up his own ass to think someone might not actually like him so much— he believes anyone who talks to him once becomes his fan. and so he does everything he can to maintain that relationship with them. you suppose it's how he's managed to keep mr. inho around despite it being clear that mr. inho doesn't like him that much anymore. maybe your father only keeps him around so he can flex his promotions as time passes. maybe he keeps him around so he has someone to babysit you. either way, you're just glad he's here.

your father doesn't know how close you and mr. inho are. he knows that the relationship between you is purely... platonic and familial, in a sense.

platonic. you almost chuckle. of course it's platonic. mr. inho rejected the idea of anything other than that.

you try not to be bitter about it.

your father believes you two only see each other during these meetings of theirs, which were more frequent when you were a kid. you're thankful because you're sure if he found out you and mr. inho got along, he would remove him from your life too like he did with all your friends.

mr. inho brought soju. you chop the veggies for your omelette and they chat in private for a while before your father finally leaves— and mr. inho locks the door and joins you in the kitchen. that's when the realization sets in. you almost laugh.

"did he pick you to keep an eye on me while he's gone?"

mr. inho smiles— a twinkle in his eyes as he sits at the table. it's not often that he smiles like that, but whenever he does, it punches the breath out of you.

"just like old times," he remarks with a pleased smirk. "better behave yourself while i'm here, kid."

his words are playful— clearly teasing. but they have your breath hitching. for some reason, you like it when he says them, you wouldn't mind him ordering you around like that. you swallow hard and the sudden shift in your brain chemistry has you fumbling— and you accidentally cut your hand with the sharp knife.

"fuck!" you yelp, dropping the knife. he is immediately at your side, grabbing your hand and guiding it under tap water.

"shit—" he hisses, frowning, "why do you keep hurting yourself? be careful."

you pout slightly, your heart pounding against your chest. he raises your hand to his mouth and mindlessly sucks the blood off. you freeze, eyes widening— breath catching in your throat.

"saliva prevents blood clotting," he explains gently. when he's done, he puts a hand on your waist and turns you to the table. "sit. let me make you breakfast."

"i can do it—" you protest, but he gives you another one of his warning glares and that shuts you up.

you hum and watch him in his element. he's folded his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, confidently grating some cheese on your omelette. you sigh dreamily to yourself, forcing your gaze to stay only at his concentrated face and not at the veins mapped across his strong arms.

when he's done, he places the plate on the table. expertly, he takes a knife and a fork and cuts a piece, and holds it up to you. when you go to grab the fork from him, he tsks and pulls it away.

"let me," he says softly, "i'm finally seeing your face after two years. why don't you let me take care of you, hm?"

you freeze, looking at him dumbly. he takes the opportunity to feed you, and you chew softly. he snorts, takes a bite himself.

why is he talking like this to you? does he not know you're insane about him?

"you can't just say things like that to me." you mumble between bites, voice low.

he ignores your comment, feeding you another piece.

"got yourself a boyfriend back in college?" he asks, his mouth curled into a smirk that he makes no effort to hide. "is that why you were ignoring your old man?"

your heart pangs and you swallow comically slow. you ignore his second remark too. he's talking so casually— you know it means nothing. you can't help but feel like it's cruel of him to act this way towards you, like he doesn't know how much you long for him.

"tried," you shrug, "they never stay. they can tell i have too many issues."

he laughs heartily and you smile. you like making him happy. it's a stark contrast against the last memory you have of him.

"you're not that hard to handle," he adds with a wink, patting your head. if he notices you leaning into his touch like a cat, he doesn't mention it. when he gets you a mug of juice, you drink it obediently, and he tends to the dishes.

"the weather's good today," he remarks casually, "you wanna go out for a walk? i'll buy you some ice cream. just like old times."

that puts the brightest smile on your face. you nod enthusiastically and rush to your bedroom to get dressed— and you try to ignore the flutter of your heart when his laugh follows along with you.

hwang inho is an insane man.

you'd dressed up pretty— your father's absence allows you to indulge in your more... girly clothes. ever since you hit puberty, he never let you wear dresses— called you a slut whenever you tried. as if to protect yourself, you'd grown used to dressing in a more tomboy-ish manner around him.

for this occasion, you put on your cutest dress and your favourite lipgloss, only to be met with mr. inho dressed up in a fucking black shirt with a suede jacket thrown over his shoulder. he looked so chic, it almost pissed you off.

he should not be allowed near black shirts. you don't want anyone else to see him this way.

you don't notice him blinking in a daze when you step down the stairs, and you don't notice the bobbing of his adam's apple when you bend down to put on your shoes.

he doesn't let you. almost immediately, he's gently placing a large palm at your thigh and kneeling before you. your breath hitches again and he gives you a look that is hard to decipher before guiding your foot into your polished mary janes.

"you look different." he mentions quietly, lowering his gaze to your feet.

his thumb tenderly brushes across your ankle, as if examining the softness of your skin. you release a shaky breath as he secures the straps of your shoes.

"a good different?" you ask shyly. you don't want him to think of you as too childish, too immature. you don't want to look like a kid playing dress up. you want to look like a woman to him. a beautiful woman who knows how to dress and look pretty.

he stands up and settles you with an unreadable look. he blinks a few times before composing himself and nodding. if you didn't know better, you'd think he looked flustered.

"a good different."

the walk outside is silent. perhaps it's because things just suddenly felt so intimate between the two of you. or perhaps it's because he's looking for something to say. you aren't, atleast. you're happy walking alongside him in comfortable silence, your hands brushing against each other's but never really touching. you wish he'd grab it and never let it go.

"still prefer strawberry ice cream?" his teasing voice breaks you out of your stupor. you smile.

"of course i do," you huff, looking up at him. you decide to tease him back. "you're still lactose intolerant?"

"should i be honest?" he sighs, looking straight ahead. he's wearing sunglasses, so his eyes are hard to read. "i tried some strawberry ice cream sometime back. some expensive brand. tossed it away after a bite because it tasted like nothing, so i'll never understand why you like it."

his voice lowers— grows almost quiet. a confession.

"i was missing you."

your steps falter and you stare at him. he walks ahead, before turning to face you. you grit your teeth, hold back all the words that are threatening to spill from your tongue.

you missed me? you ate strawberry ice cream because you missed me? you thought of me? i missed you too. i'm sorry for how reckless i've been. i'm sorry for ignoring you. i love you, i love you. please make me yours.

i'm so pathetic.

he cocks his head to the side and holds out his hand. you look at it, then at him, then you reach forward and grab hold of his finger. he chuckles and you hold back a smile as you swing your hands together and walk over to the ice cream stand. he pays and lets you pick.

he receives a phone call, and to your dismay, your hands separate. he holds up a finger telling you to wait before walking a few steps away so he can have his privacy. you resist the urge to pout and go through the menu. the girl behind the counter looks at mr. inho like most girls do— with barely disguised lust.

"holy shit, your dad's hot." she remarks in awe, voice hushed as she holds out an ice cream cone. "is he single?"

your heart flutters at her assumption— you don't blame her. it wasn't the first time he was mistaken as your dad. you've heard a lot of those comments whenever you'd go on walks with him when you were younger. but now, it also fills you with an emotion akin to jealousy. you glance over your shoulder and watch him talk seriously on the phone. you look back at the girl and grab the cone, and give her a sugary sweet smile.

"no," you answer sweetly, "he's dating me."

you hold back the urge to laugh at her bewildered face as you happily skip to him. he looks at the two of you curiously and you grin at him as you grab his finger again.

"what was that about?" he asks, pocketing his phone and you shrug, cheekily licking the ice cream.

"nothing," you hum, walking with a skip in your step. "i missed you too."

he throws his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close, and you resist the urge to moan when you inhale the smell of his cologne— he always smells otherworldly. ridiculously rich for some reason. rich and comforting and like home.

this time, you convince him to sleep over. even though he was strictly against staying in your room for too long out of respect, you managed to draw him up. he looks around and takes a seat at the bed. your room is still pink— girly in it's essence. you had the craziest pink phase when you were a kid and it bled into everything you owned, from bedsheets and clothes to your walls. mr. inho had also been a major enabler in this situation— he'd gotten you a lot of pink trinkets and toys. your father never allowed you to modify your room after the first time.

"it's like a unicorn threw up in here," he jokes, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks around. you roll your eyes fondly, adjusting the sheets. his eyes fall upon your bunny plushie— and you watch his face fall.

"i know it was you who got this." you decide to say, looking away. "you didn't have to do that for him."

"i did it for you," he corrects you, picking it up. it's still in good condition, although its ears have become more droopy, and you've drawn hearts on its plain button eyes. "it was a bad night for you. no kid should have to go through that."

your face softens, eyes getting glassy. cautiously, you take a seat beside him. you fidget with the hem of your dress, not really knowing how to continue conversation with him. you feel a little self conscious now that you're alone with him in your room— after years. the close proximity makes you want to touch him— to crawl into his lap and just stay there. with your saviour who always knows how to make you feel better. your sweet, considerate old man. you want to know what it feels like to be touched by him, to be held by him, to be—

"i like your dress."

the words almost give you a whilpash. your head snaps up and you hold back the enthusiasm in your voice. "really?"

"really," he smiles kindly. your dress rides up as you sit straighter and his eyes fall upon the silver of your skin, and naturally his hand reaches out and adjusts the fabric so it covers your knees. your breath hitches, and his voice lowers into a soft mumble.

"you're such a pretty girl."

you swallow hard— it's like someone is holding your head underwater. you can't fathom how much you needed to hear this— and especially coming from him, you think you're going to die.

i would let you do anything to me.

"really?"

"really." he whispers. something in his gaze shifts, and he looks away. he clears his throat.

"i wanted to come see you in college," he admits, placing the plushie back on the bed. "but you kept ignoring my texts. i wasn't sure if you wanted to see me. you avoided me like the plague whenever you came back, even though i don't blame you."

you look away in shame, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"i'm sorry," you whisper, nervously biting your lower lip. it doesn't hurt anymore. "i felt ashamed after the way i acted when.. you know."

"i understand," he hums, blinking at you. you're glad he doesn't say it directly, you're not ready to confront him like that right now.

"thank you for everything you've ever done for me," you add, shifting on your feet. "and i'm sorry for avoiding you."

a small smile appears on his face.

"look at you," he quips with a chuckle, "you've gotten so mature."

you huff, grabbing the plushie and hitting him with it. he plays along, pretending to be dramatically hurt with every hit. it goes well until you're leaning forward for easier access, and his attempt to snatch the plushie from your hold makes you trip. you crash right into him and he falls backwards onto the mattress, taking you down with him. your face smushes against him, and the way your heartbeat skyrockets would've been comical if you didn't feel him stiffen under you.

you take this opportunity as a golden ticket— burying your head further into his chest. your arms clutch the fabric of his shirt, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes as your body relaxes in his hold. he calls your name softly.

"what are you doing?" he asks, voice strained.

"sorry," you whisper, nuzzling your head further into him. you're willing to throw your dignity out the window for just a moment in his arms— you don't care anymore. you're not past begging.

"please— please, mr. inho, just— let me hug you for a minute, please."

you feel his breath hitch and you sniffle. you force yourself back to reality. you don't want to actually make him uncomfortable. already contemplating killing yourself, you begin to pull yourself away, when his arms suddenly wrap around you.

"mph!" you huff, feeling your body being pulled forward. a big hand comes up to cradle your head against his chest, and another curls around your waist.

"so dramatic," he whispers, his hold tightening. "ill hold you."

"oh my god." you whisper, melting in his arms like putty. you quite literally purr as your body goes limp, and you sigh contentedly, a small smile appearing on your face. like he's your lifeline, you hold onto him tightly.

"my little lady," he whispers. his voice makes your stomach feel warm— it's so velvety and soft. "what's up with you, hm?"

"nothing," you mumble, burying your head in the crook of his neck. you breathe in the comforting smell of him, squeeze your eyes shut as you commit the feeling of being held by him to your memory. "feel so safe.."

he hums, his fingers gently running through your hair. mr. inho is not that tall a man but he still makes you feel so small— so small and so safe, just by his mere presence.

"nobody ever made me feel like this," you admit, your voice cracking. you can't help the emotion seeping into your voice— you're in his arms, and he's petting your hair like you're his child, how are you supposed to breathe? "ive always felt so scared with him but— but with you—"

your voice breaks off as you sniffle again, and you bite down on your tongue as you remember your father. you don't want to think of him right now— you don't want to ruin this moment by crying.

"that bastard doesn't know how lucky he is to have a daughter like you," inho grunts, pressing his cheek against your head. he pulls you impossibly close, cradles you like a fucking baby. "he doesn't deserve to be your father."

the words have you freezing— your body tenses and your breath hitches. nobody has ever said these words to you— you've felt worthless all your life. like a burden, a mistake. like a piece of shit on the shoe that is your father.

inho's hand stills in your hair, and his head tilts towards you so your eyes meet. your lips wobble as you stare at him, and his eyebrows furrow with focus. his thumb brushes against your cheekbone.

"sometimes, i wish i was your father instead," he admits, his voice hushed— like a secret. his gaze runs across your face; almost distant, full of an emotion you can't pinpoint. if you didn't know better, you'd think it was longing. it makes your heart race. "i would never let anything happen to you. you'd be my sweet little girl forever."

the moment those words leave his mouth, you feel like you've been electrocuted. it's like any semblance of rationality has left you— your breath punched out of your lungs and your heart feeling like it's being squeezed. you feel a sharp pain in your chest. the feeling is indescribable. your brain feels like it's shut down. there's nothing there— no thoughts. just pink goop and memories of mr. inho sliding through your head like a powerpoint presentation.

you're not thinking with your mind, that much is clear. he's said the words you've been feeling forever, but never truly had the guts to admit out loud to avoid making things weird. it's like you're being seen for the first time. and with that sentiment, you're leaning forward to press your lips onto his.

he grabs your hair and yanks your head back, separating your mouths with a wet smack. your eyes are dazed as you look at him, and he takes a sharp breath as he glares back at you— nostrils flared, gaze serious. you don't know he's holding onto his last ounce of self control.

"don't do something you can't take back." he warns, voice hoarse.

this is the third time he's rejecting you— it's making you want to kill yourself. your lips wobble pathetically, eyes immediately getting teary as you lean into him.

"please—" your voice cracks, lips parting as you chase his mouth. he restrains you with a firm hold on your hair, mouth twitching. it doesn't hurt, just stings a little. it only makes you long for him more. the visible distress, the conflict on his handsome face only makes you want to cry. you recall his words again, and like a baby, your brain turns into static. all you can think of is how badly you wish he was your father instead. you're not ashamed to beg. you'd do anything, absolutely anything to be his. no matter what way. you just want to be his. perhaps, that's why the words just slip out of your mouth.

"please, dad—"

the moment he hears it, his expression falls. you don't give yourself the liberty to feel shame. all you feel is desperation, sadness. because it's over— you've embarrassed yourself and he's going to think you're fucking weird and you're going to lose him and—

your head is being pulled forward and he's crashing your mouths together. you gasp, eyes widening with surprise, and suddenly he's flipping the two of you over. your back crashes against the soft mattress and he climbs over you, slipping his tongue into your mouth. you moan, your back arching under him. he groans, tilting his head for easier access. your tongues clash together and he kisses you like a man starved. it's utterly lewd and you're gone.

he pulls back with a wet smack, strings of saliva dropping down your chin.

"fuck—" he gasps, voice raspy, "say that again— call me that again."

your heart flutters. you're still out of it, unable to process what's happening.

"m-mr. inho—?"

"no!" he snaps- squeezing your cheeks together and making your lips pucker up. you mewl.

"call me the other thing—" he squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his jaw, as if fighting a war within himself. he's conflicted. "fuck— the other one. call me that again."

you moan as his hand slides down to your neck, and you're immediately slipping. you can feel your brain get fuzzy, and everything feels like it's a blur. years of desire, yearning, and longing for him pours out of you like a dam, it seeps into the title you've subconsciously given him ever since you were a kid.

"dad." you whisper again, and he groans, pressing his forehead against yours. the way he's crumbling before you makes you feel more confident, and soon enough, the words blabber out of your mouth almost boldly. "dad— dad, dad, dad, papa, appa —"

the rushed string of words has him chuckling softly— his eyes crinkling with mirth. endeared, he's leaning down and immediately kissing you again. you moan unabashedly into his mouth, and his hands reach down to your dress and slide the fabric up, up, up. his hands splay across the soft skin of your thighs and he relishes in the way you fall apart under his touch. he breaks the kisses momentarily only to mumble sweet little words against your skin.

"my sweetheart—" he whispers, his hands cupping your cheeks, and you slip further into your little headspace. he presses a kiss to your forehead, and you choke on a sob.

"my little baby." he presses another kiss to your cheek. you're further gone. you can't see anything but him anymore. his words drop you further into the safer side of your mind, where there's no one but him— him holding you, loving you. keeping you safe and sheltered. "my angel."

"dada—" you whimper, unable to hold back the desperation in your voice. you sound timid, soft. everything hurts— you love him, you love this man so unbelievably much that it's starting to make your heart ache. he grabs your legs, makes them wrap around his waist. settles his bulge upon your clothed crotch and gently grinds. it makes you moan. "o-oh my god—"

"my little girl," mr. inho coos, pressing soft kisses all over your face. you release a shaky breath, your hips recklessly chasing his own. the action makes him falter, his voice growing shaky. "i got you, i got you, my baby."

"appa," you sniffle, tears running down your face. this one visibly makes him nauseous in the best way possible— it scratches the itch in his brain. you can tell by the shift in his jaw, the slight gasp that leaves his lips. he didn't react this way to other other ones— he likes being called that the most, and it works as fuel for your desires. he licks your tears away, and you hiccup, unable to hold back the violent rush of emotions you feel. "i love you— i love you, why couldn't you have been my dad instead!?"

the last line comes out of you like a wail, and unbeknownst to you, it breaks his heart. he presses his forehead against yours, holding onto your face with utmost tenderness as you exchange breaths. his hips glide against yours tantalizingly slow, and you've never been this horny in your entire life.

"i wish it was you instead," you blabber on, voice cracking. "i wish it was just you, not him! i wish it was just you! i hate him, i need him gone! i love you! i wish it was just you—"

"shh—" he coos, silencing you with another kiss. his hips gain momentum, and he grunts shamelessly as he grinds against you. your eyes flutter as you look at him dazedly— face flushed, lips swollen. your eyes are bloodshot. he gives you a comforting smile.

"i got you," he whispers, pressing another peck upon your nose. you whimper, leaning into his touch. his voice is just as full of desperation. "appa's got you. you're my little girl. my daughter. not his. only mine. got that?"

that does it for you— it's like you just got the only validation you ever needed in life.

"yes- yes, yes, yes, yes, please, i need you—" you hiccup, and he pulls back, his thumb rubbing your clit through your panties. you grind up into his hand, your arms reaching up to pull him closer, "appa—"

"shh, be my good little girl and come like this," he whispers, pressing a hand down on your stomach. you squirm violently under him, the added pressure and his words making the band in your stomach want to snap in the most delicious way possible.

"oh my god—" you whine, throwing your head back, "please, appa, i need your cock—"

"no," he laughs, and his hand comes up and cups your face, his thumb pulling down your bottom lip lewdly. "not now."

"appa, please!" you sob, your hips writhing. he slips his hand into your panties and furiously rubs your clit. as a way to silence you, he slips his thumb into your mouth and your lips wrap eagerly around it. you start sucking it in earnest and he falls forward onto you.

"fuck," he groans, pressing his forehead against yours again. his thumb presses down on your tongue, gently pushing in and out. his other hand teases your entrance, harshly slips one finger inside and it makes you jump. he tsks. "uh uh- stay still— that's it bubba, suck my thumb... juuust like that, fuck, that's my good fuckin' girl—"

the praise makes you heady in the best way possible, and the moment his thumb circles your clit again, you're coming almost violently. you almost bite down on his thumb and he grins— pulling his hand out and kissing you again as he thrusts his finger in and out of your cunt, overstimulating you.

"t-too much—" you whimper into his mouth, and he chuckles breathlessly, pecking your lips over and over again till they hurt.

"yeah?" he coos teasingly, though he slows down his movements, allowing you to come down from your high. "thought you could take it? little baby's not so tough anymore, huh?"

you whine again, face flushed. a dazed smile appears on your face as your chest heaves. your panties are a mess, and he brings his hand out, licks his fingers clean. you watch him with hooded eyes, blinking slowly. he smiles, spits on his fingers before bringing them to your face. eagerly, you grab his palm and slip them into your mouth, sucking obediently.

"you're so messy," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. his fingers gently thrust in and out of your mouth and you roll your tongue around the digits, tasting the slight remnants of your slick on his salty skin. you've never felt more fulfilled in your life.

"appa," you mumble again, voice muffled through his fingers. he smiles fondly and pulls them out, making you whine. he shushes you and as your hand reaches his pants, he grabs it.

"that's enough for now," he whispers. "rest. i'll be fine. today's just about you."

you protest. "but—"

"won't you listen to your appa?" he adds playfully, and you blush— looking away. if you could function properly, you'd tell him to shut up.

you can barely think; you still feel like you're floating, and he can tell by the slight dreamy look in your eyes.

"let me bring you some water." he whispers, pulling away. you immediately grab his hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes— begging him not to leave you. he chuckles, gently pries your hand away and presses a kiss to your knuckles. it makes you blush. he leans down, hands you your bunny plushie and you hold it to your chest.

"i'll be back in a minute, i promise."

reluctantly, you pull away, swaying a little as you watch him leave. as promised, he walks back in after a minute with a glass of water and his phone. he holds the glass to your lips and helps you drink, and it makes your cheeks heat up. you like him taking care of you. you like how happy he looks while doing it too. he urges you to finish the whole glass and settles it on the bedside table. you tug at his shirt and he snorts before redirecting his attention to you.

he lays down on the bed properly and pulls you towards him, cradling your head against his chest. you throw your leg around his hip and he holds you close, your plushie sandwiched between your bodies. it feels nice.

"you okay?" he whispers, and you nod, burying your head in his chest. you want to say a lot of things— you want to tell him how much you love him, how much you appreciate him. how he has quite literally changed your life. you want to tell him he is the best thing to ever happen to you, and that you might die if he ever leaves you. you want to tell him that he's a great kisser, that you want him to teach you everything. that he smells amazing and that you've never felt as safe as you do with his strong arms wrapped around you.

"thank you," you whisper, voice small. you feel shy again, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. you're exhausted, that much is obvious. this experience has clearly overwhelmed you, and he watches you for a bit, his thumb gently caressing your damp cheek, wiping the now drying tear tracks on your skin.

"thank you, what?" he asks, a knowing smirk on his face. he's cruel. you blush, hide your face with a groan before answering him shyly.

"thank you, appa."

"that's my girl." he adds proudly and you beam, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"i love you too," he whispers finally, and your eyes snap open. you tilt your head up to look at him, your heartbeat rising. he smiles softly— an unreadable look in his eyes. you resist the urge to cry again.

"i love you," you tell him again, your emotions so evident on your face. you're an open book to him. he leans down, presses kisses against your neck, making you giggle. you've never been this happy in your life.

you bury your face in his chest again and hold onto him tightly. he rests his chin on your head, and you whisper a confession against him. now that mr. inho is yours, now that you feel reassured that he might not actually leave you, you can finally admit it out loud.

"i hope he doesn't come back."

he tenses slightly, before relaxing. you don't care about his opinion on your admission— you're just glad to let it out. his hand pats your back gently, urging you to sleep. eventually, you do.

you snore in your sleep. it makes inho smile. you're still the same as you were when you were a kid. when he's sure you're fully out, he checks his phone. he opens his encrypted mail, watches with amusement the attachment from this morning— a low quality video of your father being slapped as he loses in ddakji. the second attachment is of your father's details and his player number. he holds back a smirk.

your father is predictable. he knew the son of a bitch would take the opportunity to make money as soon as he's presented with it. he's not surprised. from what he knows of him in the past decade— he knows he wouldn't make it past the first game. if he does, he knows enough to design something that will make sure he doesn't make it past another.

after losing his wife and child, inho lost a part of himself. but he feels a little complete now. in a way, he has found both in you— and he does love you, adore you with everything he has. he doesn't intend to let anything happen to you ever again. now that you've subconsciously given him the permission, he can do whatever the hell he wants to the piece of trash that is your father. accidents and missing persons cases are easy to bury, and he doubts you'd be sad if you think your father went missing while 'working on a case.' it's nothing out of the ordinary. you have him now, afterall. what else do you need? he'll be your father and your lover. it's not that hard a task. anything you want.

he gently runs a hand through your hair, examines the fading bruise on your face. it makes his jaw clench.

you're the light of his life and he can't wait to spend the rest of it with you. he'll give you the life you deserve, fulfill the childhood that was stolen from you.

as you shift in his arms and mumble something incoherently; inho smiles. he puts the phone down and turns it off. with a newfound motivation, he presses another kiss to your forehead and pulls you closer.

tags: @gojoswaterbottle @melusinetears @mizzysx @starry-eyedxlove @ferrarifinnick @dilfismz @skibidirizzzlerrrr @cowuies @frontwomann @caramelcandescence @gemini-serpentis @showmeyourkickflip @lizaliza @namelesslosers @nightcovrd @snapeslittlewhore @thedreamingreaper @fariesrreal @sky-forts-and-burning-citadels @solsticeex

YESS FINALLYY A LEE BYUNG HUN X READER I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU SO MUCHH THANK YOU FOR THIS

Mistress

Pairing: Lee Byung Hun x Fem!Reader

Summary: No matter how many times you tried to distance yourself from him, you always ended up succumbing to the intensity of his touches and words.

Warnings: Smut 18+, MDNI, age gap (late-20s/50s), unsafe sex, infidelity

Word count: 1.9 k

a/n: It's my first time posting here, and English isn't my first language, so sorry if there are any mistakes.

The thumping music pulsed through the air, blending with laughter and lively conversation. The Squid Game 2 wrap party was at its peak—a well-earned celebration after months of hard work. You glanced around, awed by how far you had come. Being part of such a massive project had been an incredible opportunity, filled with unforgettable experiences and people… and one of them, one you should never have allowed, was the reason you had hesitated to come tonight.

Across the room, among the sea of familiar faces, you spotted Wi Ha-Joon approaching with his signature ear-to-ear grin. His contagious energy made you smile instinctively.

“Hey, beautiful. Glad to see you’re having fun,” he said before taking a sip of his drink.

“I wasn’t planning on coming, actually,” you admitted, holding your glass. You weren’t a big fan of these kinds of events, but alcohol certainly helped loosen you up.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

“I guess I needed a distraction,” you shrugged.

Ha-Joon chuckled, raising his glass in a toast before continuing the conversation. A few drinks later, his proximity became more evident. You couldn’t deny how attractive he was—tall, strong, and completely shameless in his flirting. His hand rested subtly on your waist as you danced, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I need to use the restroom,” you said with a smile after a few minutes.

“I’ll be here,” he nodded, watching as you walked away.

You made your way toward the hallway leading to the restrooms, but just before turning the corner, a strong hand wrapped around your forearm, pulling you back with firm determination.

“What the f—?” The air caught in your throat when you recognized him. Lee Byung Hun. Damn it. You hadn’t even noticed he was at the party.

He dragged you into a dimly lit storage room, shutting the door behind him. Your heart pounded against your chest as you met his gaze—tense, irritated, and brimming with jealousy.

“I see you’ve been having fun,” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. His dark eyes burned with resentment. “Is that idiot the reason you left me?”

Anger bubbled within you instantly. What right did he have to question you?

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped, yanking your arm free from his grip.

“So, you’re not denying it,” he continued, his jaw clenching.

“You know exactly why we couldn’t keep doing… this,” you shot back, your voice laced with bitterness.

“You can’t do this to me… I need you,” he blurted suddenly, desperation creeping into his tone.

Something in his expression cracked. He had spent the entire night watching you, seeing you laugh with another man, move so freely, so happily—something that had never been allowed when you were together in public.

“You can’t say that…” you whispered, lowering your gaze to his hand, where the ring on his finger gleamed under the dim light. “At the end of the night, you’ll go back to her.”

Your eyes burned, tears threatening to spill.

“You knew what this was from the start,” he tried to justify, in the worst way possible.

“I don’t need you to remind me,” your voice trembled, the ache in your chest deepening. It was true. You had known. From the very beginning. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Byung Hun exhaled sharply and stepped closer, lifting a hand to gently cup your cheek—his tenderness a stark contrast to the storm in his gaze.

“I know you don’t want this to end like this…” he murmured, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

Your breath hitched as he moved even closer, his warmth enveloping you entirely. His scent, his presence—everything about him disarmed you with terrifying ease.

“Don’t make this harder…” you pleaded in a whisper, but even you didn’t believe your own words.

Time seemed to slow as his lips brushed against yours—soft, hesitant, offering one last warning, one last chance to stop him. But just like the first time, you didn’t.

His gentle, slow kisses quickly turned urgent, pressing you against the wall as his hands roamed your body with desperate need. His tongue parted your lips, stealing your breath and any coherent thought.

“Fuck…” he groaned against your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw, lower, marking you as his. His fingers found the zipper of your dress, and without hesitation, he slid it down, letting the fabric pool at your feet.

“Byung Hun…” you sighed as his lips traced the curve of your collarbone, his tongue leaving a blazing path toward your chest. Your fingers gripped his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

He caught your silent plea, discarding his shirt and allowing you to admire the sculpted lines of his body. His large hands explored every inch of your body hungrily, skilled fingers slipping between your thighs, drawing a ragged moan from your lips.

“Look at what you do to me…” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed himself against you through his clothes. The hardness of his arousal was undeniable, and the heat of his body ignited every fiber of your being.

His firm hands guided you toward what seemed like a wooden table. You braced yourself against it, feeling his body settle between your legs.

“You have no idea how much I’ve suffered without you…” he murmured against your neck, leaving a trail of fervent kisses. His voice, thick with longing, made you tremble.

A gasp escaped your lips as two of his fingers slid inside you—wet, expert, touching that spot he knew so well. His movements were slow, torturously precise. In and out, twisting, exploring. Then, with his thumb, he rubbed delicate circles over your most sensitive spot, making you whimper.

“He’ll never have you like this,” he said with pride, enthralled by your sweet moans and the wetness dripping down his fingers.

You could barely process his words, your mind clouded by pleasure. You just wanted more. When you felt yourself reaching the edge, your body moved instinctively, desperately seeking release.

Finally, it hit you—your climax crashing over you as his name spilled from your lips, your body trembling against him.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured with a dark smile, lowering his zipper. With both hands, he pushed down his pants and boxers, freeing his cock—thick, flushed, glistening with need.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, wrapping a hand around your throat with gentle firmness.

But you’re not mine, you wanted to say, but desire drowned out your thoughts. You only nodded, biting your lip.

Without another word, he thrust into you in one swift motion, a shared moan filling the room. His strokes were deep, precise, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug into his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him. The music from the party felt distant, drowned out by the sound of your mingled moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

“Shit…” he groaned, feeling you tighten around him. “That’s it, princess… come for me.”

His raspy moans were your undoing. His mouth found yours, swallowing your cry as ecstasy overtook you. Seconds later, with a few erratic thrusts, he spilled into you, holding you close as your ragged breaths intertwined.

He rested his forehead against yours, still buried inside you.

“I love you,” he whispered, breathless.

It wasn’t the first time he had said it in these moments. You had tried to convince yourself not to take it seriously, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wishing it was true.

He noticed the shift in your expression. You looked hurt. He had spent weeks thinking about you, regretting all the times he had made you cry. And yet, here you were again.

"Listen to me..." He cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. "I’ve fucked up. With you, with my wife, with myself. You have every right to hate me."

He paused, studying your face. When you didn’t respond, he continued.

"I'm afraid of what will happen if this gets out. Of what they'll say about you, about me, about us. I'm afraid of hurting the mother of my children… but I'm also afraid of losing you."

You parted your lips to argue, but he stopped you.

"Please, let me finish." He knew you too well. He knew you were about to interrupt him.

"I know I'm selfish, irresponsible… but I want to make things right this time. I can’t lose you."

"What makes you think I even want to give you another chance?" you cut in, frowning.

He let out a wry smile.

"If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be here like this, beautiful." You couldn't fool him. Not him, and not yourself.

"What exactly are you proposing?" You tried to sound cold. You tried. And you failed.

He ran a hand through his hair before resting it on your thigh.

"Give me a month. One month to talk to her, to start the process. I'm getting a divorce."

You looked at him in disbelief.

"I could give you a week, a month, or a year, and I still wouldn’t believe that," you admitted. You knew this was the usual lie a married man told to keep his mistress around. Mistress. The word made your stomach turn.

He sighed before finally pulling out of you, knowing you wouldn’t be easy to convince. A quiet gasp escaped your lips. He fixed his pants while you tried to steady your breathing and your thoughts. From his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and returned to you, wiping you gently.

You both dressed in complete silence. He zipped up your dress, and you helped him wipe away the lipstick you had left on his lips and part of his face.

"I know you don’t believe me," he said, holding your waist before you could step away. "But tonight, I’m talking to her."

You were about to tell him it was best to end this, but he shocked you by dropping to his knees and taking your hands in his.

"Please, trust me. I won’t fail you this time." His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes shining, on the verge of tears. You had never seen him like this.

Your emotions betrayed you. You found yourself nodding, even as every rational part of your mind screamed at you to walk away. But he was there, kneeling before you, looking at you with a mixture of vulnerability and determination that made you tremble.

As you stepped out, you prayed you wouldn’t run into anyone familiar, but as if fate itself found the situation amusing, you crossed paths with Ha-Joon. The young man’s gaze flickered between the two of you before settling on you, his eyes filled with disappointment. He didn’t need to ask what had just happened—he already knew. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say a word. He only held your gaze for an agonizing few seconds before turning on his heel and walking away.

Byung Hun, standing beside you, straightened with an air of victory. His lips curled into the faintest smirk as he watched the younger man’s retreating figure. His hand slid down the curve of your hip before gripping your waist possessively, as if staking his claim.

This fr made my stomach move ANYWAYSS LOVEE IT AS ALWAYSSS

SHOW ME WHO YOU ARE — Hwang In-Ho

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ PAIRING — Hwang In-Ho x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ INCLUDES — basic Squid game violence, maybe a little bit spice, age gap (reader is mid 20‘s In-house is late 40‘s), Jealousy

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ NOTE — Okay y‘all.. since my last fanfic about Sangwoo got lots of love, i decided to write another one.. this time about In-ho!!! I seriously love that guy it isn’t normal anymore… I also tried out a new writing style as i‘m still trying to find out a good style to write in, so let me know which one you prefer!!

I was talking to Gi-hun as I felt an uncomfortable feeling, someone was staring at me. But not the normal staring, the type of staring that would linger on you for way to long. The type of staring that made you feel uneasy right away. But i decided to shrug it off. „I hope the next game won’t be too difficult,“ Gi-hun said as he slowly exhaled.

„Me too.. the last game was exhausting enough.. I really thought we would’ve died when we only got 10 seconds left to make it to the finish line..“ I closed my eyes in relief, it was definitely an expierience for itself, Pentathlon felt like the hardest one.. Red Light Green Light was very easy.. just the shock of the people dying for the first time got to me.

„Hm.. let’s just dig in right? I think we need enough energy for today.“ Dae-ho said. I nodded and started to eat my food, listening to the others as they continued to talk. Me and Young-il were the only ones being quiet.

„Y/N-ah.. take my bread, i don‘t need it. You didn’t eat a lot yesterday after the game ended.“ Young-il smiled at me, it was a weird but reassuring smile.. it made me feel warm inside. „Oh really sir? It isn’t a problem or?“ I asked again, only to make sure. He just nodded and handed it to me, i didn’t take the whole tho, i broke it in half.

„Young-il sir, don’t give me everything, you also need some food and energy.“ I gave him the other half. He was a little shocked by my action, his eyes widened slightly. I looked up at his, before giving him a soft half-smile. He nodded and ate together with me.

We continued to eat in peace before guards came in. „Players, please follow us to the next game.“ the one in the middle said. We all looked at each other before hesitating to stand up. Young-il took my wrist to make sure i didn’t get lost in the crowd.

My cheeks got a light shade of pink as i quickly looked away. I heard a short chuckle coming out of Young-il‘s mouth. I just decided to ignore it, but my body made it hard. It completely gave me away, my heart skipping a beat at his sweet chuckle.

We followed the guards into a room, Young-il‘s grip tightened on me when we arrived inside. „What could this place be?“ I asked quietly as i looked around. The whole room was big and colorful. It counted 50 Doors, each having different colors, in the middle of the room there was a platform with a statue in the middle of it. It looked scary but also nostalgic, like a sweet children’s place, but knowing what happens in here, it didn’t seem so sweet as it looks.

„Players, please step on the platform in the middle of the room“ the creepy voice called out, I tensed at hearing it, which Young-il felt. He looked down at me, his hand letting go of my wrist but finding its way on my shoulder instead, drawing circles on it to reassure me.. which weirdly helped.

„When the game starts, the platform will spin. Shortly after, a number will be called out. You must then form a group that matches the number, enter one of the surrounding rooms and lock the door within 30 seconds, or be eliminated.“ We all slowly went to the platform, i kept holding onto Young-il somehow, only his presence already kept me safe..

„I repeat,“ I completely blended the creepy robot voice out as i was looking up at Young-il, captivated by his beauty. Of course he isn’t stupid, he noticed i was staring, but he enjoyed the moment just like me.

The other‘s talked, but i stayed quiet, they tried to make a planning what to do when certain numbers got called out. I held onto Young-il‘s arm, just listening closely to the others. After around 2 minutes, the platform suddenly started moving and music started playing. I accidently stumble at the sudden movement, but Young-il catched me with his strong arms.. „Are you okay?“ I just nodded.

I felt uneasy, this didn’t feel right. The song made me feel even more uncomfortable. Young-il noticed, he tried his best to help me, which did. His presence already made me feel better. Suddenly after some time, it stopped again. Everyone stumbled again.

„TEN“

I looked at Young-il, and then at Gi-hun. We were 5.. we needed 5 more. Hyun-ju came to us, „are you guys 5?!“ she quickly asked, the pressure in her voice was bearable. „We‘re 4! we just need one more!“

Gi-hun nodded, he looked out for someone, and noticed Jun-hee, it was the pregnant girl. She was nice earlier to me. He looked over to Hyun-ju who knew what he was symbolizing. 8 of us already went to the room quickly, Hyun-ju took Jun-hee‘s hand and guided her quickly but also gentle to us, after all she was pregnant.

We had 15 seconds left and Hyun-ju quickly closed the door, I was in a corner next to Young-il. He squeezed my hand to calm me down. He leaned down, whispering in my ear.

„We are ten, don’t worry. I‘ll protect you, yeah?“ His voice was low and raspy, i had to keep my composure and nodded. „Thank you Sir.“

He chuckled again, his breath touching my neck. „Drop the sir, yeah?“ I just nodded as i felt another blush creep up my face.

The timer was already over. We could hear gunshots, but Young-il covered my ears. He kept his promise, keeping me safe.

„The following Players were eliminated: Player 013, 043, 049, 054, 060..“ Our room was quiet, Gi-hun was looking throught the little slit of the door, watching the people getting taken away.

The atmosphere was tensed, everyone was breathing heavily. Yet Young-il was calm as always, drawing circles on me again, but this time, on the inside of my arm. Shortly after, out doors were unlocked, and we slowly went out. I almost slipped from the blood on they floor, but luckily Young-il kept me in his arms.

And everything repeated, the platform started spinning and the music went on. This time i didn’t stumble, as it was as unexpected as last time. And soon after, it stopped again.

„FOUR“

we all looked at each other in panic, we were 5, shit.. Young-il look at Gi-hun before pushing me into his arms. „Take care of her, and go, Now!“ He yelled, Gi-hun catched me quickly, but i tried to get away from his grip. „Young-il!“ I screamed out, but i couldn’t run after him. Gi-hun just let out a quick „don’t worry“ and ran with me in his hand to a free door. Dae-ho quickly closed it after we got in. I was rushing to look through the slit, but i couldn’t find him.. Shit, where was he???, Gi-hun tried to pull me away, but i just hit his hand away.

5 seconds later the door locked. I flinched at the gunshots, but i couldn‘t care less, all i cared for in the moment was Young-il.

The creepy voice called out who was eliminated again, but i couldn’t focus on it, i tried to see if Young-il was out there.. he can’t die, what would i do without him?

The doors unlocked, i slowly opened it, my hands shaking. Dae-ho took my shoulders, he tried to help me calm down. But it didn‘t, it wasnt the same touch Young-il had.. it didnt feel right. We slowly walked to the platform.

I couldn’t spot him, my heart sinking, before i felt Dae-ho being pushed away from me. I got hugged from behind. I immediately recognized Young-il‘s strong arms around me. Gi-hun spoke up, „Young-il! You made it“. You could tell he was happy to see him too, but he just nodded and gave him a smile, before whispering into my eyes.

„I told you i will survive and protect you at all cost, Baby.“ This made something with me, he smirked to himself, i could sense that. He knows what he did to me. Letting go of me he talked to the others again. I just stood next to them, listening closely.

This game went on quite for some time now, and slowly i started to feel exhausted. I knew that as soon as we would be back at the dorm, i would take a big nap. This was the last round, the music was going on and for a moment everything felt good.

„The next number will be two,“ Young-il said, i looked up to him. „What do you mean?“ I asked, we were 5, what if one of us doesn’t find a partner? „We are 126 players left, there are 50 doors, when the number will be 2, it can only hold 100 people.“

It made sense, it would bring out a fight to whom will get a room, and for sure 26 of them won’t. „It makes sense, I think so too.“ Gi-hun agreed with him, „Me and Y/N will go together,“ Young-il said, taking my hands in his, our Fingers intertwined. It made me look down. My heart skipping a beat. „Jung-bae, go with Dae-ho.. I‘ll find someone.“ Gi-hun said, Jung-bae wanted to say something against it, but suddenly the platform stopped

„TWO“

Jung-bae couldn’t do anything and had to take Dae-ho with him Gi-hun went to search for a partner, and Young-il took me to a room. On the way there, a guy pushed me down and tried to get into the room me and Young-il chose. You could see the rage in his eyes. He took the guy by his collar, pushing him away. He took my hand and helped me up quickly. We made it into the room, 18 seconds left. I exhaled but stopped. We heard another guy in here, shaky breath.

„OUT!“ Young-il yelled angry, the guy shook his head. „I was here first!“ he shouted back, pressing himself into the corner. „I said, go. out.“ His eyes were sharp, his voice cold and loud.

„Push her out, Girls are weak anywa-” he couldn’t finish his sentence, before Young-il went behind him. He choked him, slowly sliding down the wall as he cut off his breathing way. The guy was struggling. But the most intimidating about this was the way he looked at me while he did so.

„Ten“

„Nine“

„Eight“

„Seven“

„Six“

„Five“

„Four“

„three“

Suddenly, Young-il turned his head, which let out a loud ‚CRACK‘ the door locked a second after he died. Young-il stood up, slowly walking to me, not braking the eye contact. He trapped me at the wall, his arms on each of my sides, keeping me from moving.

He pressed his lips sharp onto mine, i melted at the touch, but at the same time, i didn’t. Trembling beneath him. My hands wandered to his neck before i closed my eyes and eventually gave in, kissing him back. The kiss quickly turned into a tounge kiss, the Gunshots were completely ignored. He backed away, before moving to my neck, kissing it, biting on it, I let myself relax, whimpering at his touch. He let go, making my groan a little, he smirked to himself. His mouth went to my ear, he whispered into it, before biting my earlobe a little.

„You won’t tell anyone yeah? This will be our little secret, Darling.“

Okay i might make a second part out of this, because i‘m to lazy to write more at the moment, might even publish it tomorrow👀 stay tuned my loves!!! If you want to be tagged in the second part, comment below!

I swear I need an entire series so bad 😭😭

˖ ִ ೀ 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader

Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. After you entered his life, everything changed. His secret is becoming harder to hide, along with his love.

TW: Channeling my love for older men. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF with SMUT! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Size kink if you squint.

WC! 3k Part 1! -> here!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were twelve when you started to dance.

You had been walking with your friend, heading to a convenience store when you saw it.

“Limelight Dance Studio”

However, it wasn’t the sign that caught your attention. Or the big beautiful building that looked like it belonged in a fairytale. What caught your attention was the woman walking into the studio.

Her hair was in a tight, slick bun, and her loose jacket covered her torso. Her pointe shoes were clutched in her hand as she rushed in, pushing past the door as she headed toward her class.

That day you went home and marched straight up to your mother, a flier clutched in your tiny hands. She said no at first, practically shattering your small heart. But without you knowing, she spent that month saving every cent she could, surprising you with a pair of ballet flats and admission to the dance studio.

From then on, your life centered around ballet.

At 17, you finally transitioned to Pointe after years of training. And once you laced the ribbons, you were unstoppable. Every time you were on stage, you were in your element. Glowing with potential.

Dancing is where you thrive. It’s where you belonged.

You studied abroad at Juilliard for four years, becoming the perfect ballerina you had strived to be. And when you returned, the Seoul Ballet Company practically begged you to dance for them.

You accepted the offer calmly, but deep down the little girl who had fallen in love with dance was screaming. You have finally achieved your dream.

You were perfect. Life was perfect. It was fulfilled, and you didn’t need anything more.

Right?

You had your fair share of relationships, but nothing ever serious. Not when your life centered around ballet. Your career was always the main reason your relationships ended, but you couldn't care less.

Men didn't make you happy, dance did.

And you knew that for a relationship to work, you would have to find someone just like you. Busy, determined, focused, perfect.

One night, after many glasses of wine, you realize your standards are extremely unrealistic.

Which, they are.

So you decided to give up on dating.

But often, when it’s late at night, you find yourself lonely. You thought about getting a cat, which you had been excited about. But your bitchy landlord didn’t allow it. So instead, you found comfort in watching old movies.

They came on after dark. The black and white glow illuminating your small living room. You would come home from practice, tossing your bag by the front door before jumping onto the couch. Snacks in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and your eyes glued to the flatscreen. You would stay up late, watching Audrey Hepburn explore Rome or enjoy a breakfast at Tiffany's until you fall asleep.

You’d wake up at 8:00 am, sluggishly getting ready for the gym before chugging your espresso. You’d work out, maybe some pilates or weight training, then grab some lunch. Sometimes you would come home and take a nap, sometimes you would hang out with friends, but often you found yourself lounging by the cafe.

People watching had became your favorite activity.

You’d sit in the uncomfortable metal chair, your chicken salad sandwich sitting untouched on the table in front of you, and you’d watch as people went about their day.

The cafe was placed across the street from a tall building full of luxury apartments, which you bet probably allowed cats. Yes, you were still bitter about that.

One specific day, when you were sitting in the familiar metal chair, you found yourself watching someone intently.

He was quickly walking down the sidewalk, carefully dodging people as he carried a brown bag full of groceries. You gasped as a stranger ran out in front of him abruptly, knocking his belongings to the floor.

You scoffed as the person he’d crashed into walked past, not even offering to help. And your feet almost moved on their own as you walked straight over to help him gather his groceries.

Little words were exchanged, “Thank you.” “You didn’t have to do that.” “Have a nice day.” You assumed he didn’t pay much attention to the interaction.

But you did.

There was something so captivating about him. Something so endearing that captured your attention, something you couldn’t quite describe.

Since then, you often hoped to see him again.

You just didn’t expect to see him in the front row at your ballet.

That was a surprise.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Pspspsps!” You rubbed your fingers together, bending down to the ground, “Come here, Elisabeth. Pspsps!”

The fluffy white cat came around the corner, eying you with skepticism as you motioned her to approach you. She was a sassy girl and didn’t fully trust you yet, but that didn’t bug you.

She was honestly intimidating.

You smile widely as she walks towards you, happy to finally make a connection with her. But as she walked past you without even a glance, you sighed, watching as she planted herself in front of your boyfriend's feet.

You stood up and rested your hands on your hips, "She'll love me one day." You watched as she rubbed against In-ho's legs, a quiet purr causing a small smile to form on your lips.

She is intimidating, but she sure is cute.

In-ho keeps his gaze on you, watching how you slightly pout at Elisabeth's adorable nature. His heart flutters, something that's becoming increasingly common in the last five months of your relationship.

It has been five months since your ankle fracture, which is now completely healed thanks to In-ho's firm instructions to rest. You honestly think he just didn't want you to leave his apartment, but you weren't complaining.

Five months since your shared kiss that ultimately changed both of your lives. You moved in after about three months, which turned out to be a great idea, despite everyone saying it was too soon. When he first brought up the question, you were skeptical. But as soon as he mentioned an in-unit washer and dryer, you took the key.

Your mother was concerned at first, especially about the age gap. But you brushed it off. In-ho was quite literally perfect for you, as were you for him. Age didn't matter to you when you both completed each other's heart.

The first thing you did when you moved in was decorate. Not his entire apartment, obviously, but you did go to Home Depot and buy a few plants.

Cat-safe, of course.

Once your ankle healed, you went back to dancing. And, just like before, every Friday In-ho would watch you practice. Though he doesn't sit in the back anymore, he sits front and center.

After your practice, he always gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, tulips. He would take your bag with his arm around yours, and you would walk to your apartment together.

Life was, simply put, perfect.

It was bliss. A happiness that was only obtained when you brought down your walls and let a stranger in. A stranger who captured your heart, mind, and everything in between.

When you first discovered his collection of old films and music, you could've sworn you fell in love with him just then. You knew you were perfect for each other already, but the shared interest solidified that.

Nights aren't lonely anymore. Not when your bed is shared by the man who you adore, and a fluffy white cat who is determined to sleep with you.

His arms are wrapped around you, your back pressed to his chest as he holds you tight. His head nuzzled into the back of your neck as he snores, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as you dream.

Your legs are tangled, intertwined under the covers as your hearts beat the same rhythm. Your hands are wrapped on top of his, the feeling of being in his arms familiar and comfortable. It would be impossible to sleep without each other, you both knew that.

So when In-ho sits you down on a warm June night and explains he has to leave for a work trip, you cry. I know, it's dramatic. But you had spent the last five months in each other's presence. Holding each other, kissing each other, making love on the very bed you sleep in together. Where you went, he followed. Where he traveled, you joined.

You needed him. He was the air that filled your lungs, giving you breath. He was the blood that flowed through your veins and pumped your heart, giving you life. He was your soul, your mind. He had you wrapped around his finger, and you knew it.

Vice versa, you were his whole being. He based every decision around you, around your future together. He's made sacrifices you couldn't even imagine. He went from letting the games be the center of his life, to you being the center of his universe.

You were all he could think about.

Important business meeting about the upcoming games? Forget it. In-ho is at home making Kimchi with you, having forgotten all about it.

Meeting with the V.I.P's? What meeting. In-ho is too busy indulging in his desire with his tongue deep in your core, a hand clamped around your throat.

You were his sole purpose on this earth. Where you walked, flowers bloomed behind you. Wherever you went, the sun would shine. In-ho felt he didn't deserve you. No, he knew he didn't deserve you.

He never told you that though. Of course, if he did, you would smack him upside the head, "Seven days? Where are they making you go?" You cried into his shoulder, your body resting on his lap as he sat back on the plush couch.

His heart breaks a little at the sound of your cries, his thumb brushing away the tears that fell, "I just have to host this private game. I'll be back so soon, I promise." Your cries didn't change, his shirt dampening as you snuggled deeper into his chest, "I will call you every chance I can. I promise."

You looked up at him, giving a pathetic sniffle as you spoke, "When do you leave?" You sit up fully now, straightening your top. He rubs his big hand over your arm, watching as goosebumps trail behind.

He looks up at you, a hand fiddling with your exposed bra strap, "Tomorrow morning." He sighs as he watches a pout form on your pretty mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips.

"What do I do while you're gone?" You pull his hand from your face, holding it in your own as you play with his fingers.

In-ho hasn't failed to notice how his pants tightened since you've been sitting innocently on his lap, your hips slowly rocking as you sobbed into his shoulder moments ago. You knew it too. The second he played with your bra strap, the emotion in the air changed from angst to lust.

And if he was going to be gone for seven days, might as well enjoy the night, "Come here." His voice was low and demanding as he took his hand from your grasp, taking a hold of your side.

Your mouth parted as his hand moved down, softly caressing every curve of your perfect body. Though his eyes stayed peering into your own, watching your reaction to every touch.

He smirked as you gave a breathless gasp, his hand pinching your hip as you slowly grind your hips down. His hard cock rubbing against your desire raises an all-too-familiar feeling in the deep of your stomach.

Wordlessly, his hand comes behind you, laying you down on the couch as he stands up. Towering over your body as he unbuttoned his shirt, your eyes trail across every inch of exposed skin.

He moves between your legs, his hands coming to your face as he pulls you into a needy kiss. Your hands find his back, your fingers rubbing, digging into his skin as he fucks your mouth with his tongue.

He pulls away, breathlessly moving his hands down to the hem of your shirt. You watch with lustful eyes as he tugs your top up and over your head with one swift motion. His hands find your bare skin, pinching and squeezing your sides with hunger in his dark eyes.

Heat pools between your thighs, your hand sneaking under your panties as In-ho unhooks your bra swiftly. He leans back, taking you in awe as he trails his eyes over your body.

He gives a small laugh at the sight of your hand slowly fucking yourself, "Tsk, as much as I love seeing you do that, you will have seven days to do it. Tonight, you don't have to do a thing."

Your eyes snap open as he dips his hand under your panties and over your own, moving your hand up to your parted mouth. He pushes your hand towards your lips, a smirk evident on his own as he puts your delicate fingers inside your pretty mouth.

He sighs as you taste yourself, the heat becoming unbearable between your goose-bumped legs, "See how sweet you taste? Do you see why im starved all the time?" He kisses your jaw between his words, his hands slipping off your bottoms, your panties gone with it.

He stands again, tossing your clothes into a pile, his bottoms going with it. He towers over the couch, intimidating you like he did all those months ago.

You sit up, your small hands delicately reaching up and leaving tiny bolts of electricity on his abs as you trace down. You take your thumb, wiping the precum from his sensitive tip. His head falls back just from that touch alone, and as desperate as he is to see your lips swollen and wrapped around him, he remembers his promise.

You lean down, your lips centimeters away from his length when his strong hand pulls your chin up, "You aren't doing a thing, remember?" You whine, his strong arms laying you back down on the couch.

He comes between your legs again, lifting your hips up as he traces his cock between your pussy. The sound of your slick fills his ears, and a small "fuck" falls from his lips. It takes everything in you not to buck your hips, the need becoming irresistible as he lines himself up with your core.

He takes a hand and lifts your face, desperate to see your pretty eyes as he fucks into you. As he sinks in, the familiar feeling of ecstasy overtakes him as he stretches you.

He sets a rhythm, fucking you as he stares into your eyes, your eyebrows raised and mouth agape as your hips meet with a slap. His free hand comes behind your waist, supporting your legs as you meet his thrusts.

In-ho didnt fuck.

He made love.

And that shit was passionate as fuck.

His eyes never left yours. Not once. Not even when he places a hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock deep in your womb. You, on the other hand, writhed beneath him. Your moans filling your shared apartment, mixing with the pornographic sounds from In-ho,.

Your head sank back into the couch, your hand coming to hold his own as he quickened his thrusts. His other hand that supported you moved to your clit, pressing and rubbing perfectly over your sensitive bud.

If there was one thing about In-ho, it's that he's determined to make you cum with him.

Every. Single. Time.

So when his hand reaches your clit, you know he's close, "In-ho, please- god. Please don't stop." You didn't yell or scream. Your voice was sultry, full of desire.

He throws a head back at your words, his warmth spilling deep into your womb with one final deep thrust as you clench around him. You meet him, finding your own ethereal as you reach your climax.

He whines with his thrusts as he slows down, emptying into your tight core, "When... when I'm gone." You furrow your eyebrows, catching your breath as he pulls out of you, "This next week, when I'm gone."

He lays with you on the couch, pulling you to lay on his chest, "Whenever you need me, I want you to use your pretty little fingers and fuck yourself while you think about this moment." You blushed, despite just taking his cock only a moment ago.

He brings his hand to your face, his thumb parting your lips, "Can you promise me that?" Your eyes slightly water, remembering why you were even crying in the first place.

"I promise." Your voice was a whisper, smiling up at In-ho as he kissed your forehead. You take a deep breath, realizing just how much he means to you. Just how much you need him.

If only you knew.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

An: I actually wrote most of this during my mom's colonoscopy LMFAO. Also, guys imma be so fr with you, I'm so tired lmao. But here! The long-awaited part 2 which is basically just fluff to smut lmao. I've never been one to really write part twos (I hate feeling like I HAVE to write because then it turns into a chore) BUT I actually enjoyed writing this one. Im gonna work through my requests and also please join my taglist! Love you guys!

@sxmmerchxldblog @bohemiandelilah @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen  @menabuser16 @speedymagazinewhispers @nellabear  @marymun @orihime188 @nanascupid @fnl9zer @chasinghxran @crystalizia @auspicious-lilana @machipyun @cdej6 @namelesslosers @lovelymindescape @macnbriee @rosegracewood09@gurjxxpp11 @shadow-tumbler @veiledsaint @rosyflowerss

PLEASEEEE PLEASEE IM BEGGING YOUU I NEED MOREEE 😫

“friend or foe” pt.2

soft!frontman (hwang in-ho) x you

when frontman joined the games, he thought it was solely to see gihun fail, but his intentions shifted when a certain player number 455 caught his attention…

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

the next day, you ate breakfast with in-ho and the team. they discussed different strategies and games in which they might have to play.

naturally, in-ho had given his milk to you even after much protests. he explained how it would help you get stronger and ready for the games.

“where’s my milk?” jung-bae sulked as everyone laughed.

you stayed beside in-ho the entire time. since after the second game, you had grown very fond of him. and luckily for you, so did he.

he felt protective of you, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. even more so in a place like this. when you were caught up with thanos’ team, trying to save yourself after bumping into nam-gyu

in-ho made sure to step up, teaching thanos and his friends a lesson for laying a hand on you, or even threatening you.

he would have went feral if you hadn’t stopped him by pulling him away into a corner, helping him cool off.

“it’s okay, i’m okay.” you told him as you tried to get him to tear his eyes away from glaring at thanos.

“did they hurt you?” he simply asked, ignoring everything else you had just said.

‘no’. you shook your head.

after that, he made sure he always had you within feet from him.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

when it was time for the third game, in-ho held your hand as everyone walked towards the game room.

“i hope it’s something we can play in teams.” he said to you, making you smile.

“why? so you can team up with me?” you teased.

“of course.”

when you reached the game room, a large carousel sat in the center of the room. around it were different colored doors with numbers on them, 1-50.

“what is this?” in-ho wondered out loud as a voice came through the speakers.

‘the game is mingle. the carousel will move when the music plays…once it stops, a number will be called out. the number is the number of people you will need to have in your group before you enter a room of your choice.’

“shit.” you cursed under your breath.

it was going to be a bloodbath.

of course, in-ho already knew this. he might have been acting scared, but deep down, he was. how was he to garuntee your safety in a game like this.

if he didn’t come up with anything quickly, he could mess up the game, or worse, lose you.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

‘start’

ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a

as the giant carousel began to rotate, in-ho’s grip on your hand became tighter.

‘10’

“we need 5!” gi-hun yelled over the chaos that insued.

“we’re 5! let’s go! green door!” player 120 said as both teams ran for the door.

inside, in-ho made sure you were okay first before he checked on the rest.

“you should be thanking me!” a woman suddenly declared, throwing her hand up in the air. “without me, you all would have died!”

“geez! the ego on this woman.” jung-bae scoffed.

then, she whipped her head around, finger flying to your face as she stopped inches away, almost hitting you.

“can i help you?” you asked.

“you… you’re here for a purpose.” she said.

in-ho pulled you aside, stepping in front as he glared at the woman.

“you talk to her again and i’ll make sure you’re locked outside.”

the woman could only gulp.

just in time, the door unlocked, saving the lady’s ass as well as yours.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

“fuckin’ crazy sharman lady.” in-ho muttered to himself as he got back up onto the platform.

you giggled. it was funny how he was affected by everything else but the deadly game he was in the midst of.

‘4’

shit. someone was going to be left behind.

“gi-hun! take her, i’ll find others!” in-ho instructed as gi-hun nodded, grabbing your arm and dashing into a room.

“young-il!” you screamed as you were being dragged away from him.

he was so selfless, he only cared about saving you and his ‘friends’.

“he’ll be okay.” dae-ho told you as he stood beside you, peeping through the hole in the door.

the next few minutes were excruciating. you couldn’t find in-ho in the running, desperate crowd.

little did you know, in-ho was in a room on his own, locking it before anyone could enter.

he catched his breath as a guard came up to the doorhole, aiming his gun at him.

“stand down.” in-ho ordered, making the guard turn away, walking off.

when the doors unlocked, you sprinted out.

“there!” gi-hun called out, pointing to in-ho who was running towards you.

you practically flung yourself onto him, taking him aback as he laughed.

“oh my god, i was so worried.” you told him as you pulled away.

“you can’t rid of me that easy.”

“ah! we thought you couldn’t find enough people in time!” jung-bae chipped in.

“i’m a very likeable man, i do well in these games.” he joked.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

when it came down to the final round, a thick air of tension filled the atmosphere.

the last number was announced, ‘2’. you knew exactly what they were doing. around 150 people left, 50 rooms, you were going to have to fight for the rooms.

the team had split up, in-ho naturally sticking eith you as you both ran for the nearest room.

just as you were about to enter, you felt a strong push, knocking you to the ground onto your back as the man took your place, shutting the door as the timer hit 0.

“y/n!” in-ho shouted as tears started to fill your eyes.

“young-il… don’t let me die.” you cried.

oh, he was angry. angry wasn’t even actually able to cover it. he was fuming.

he picked up the man by the collar, punching and kicking him as he yelled in frustration.

as the guards approached you, you heard his voice.

“standdown! now!” he said, “that is an order.”

just like that, the gun held up towards your temple was gone. the guard walked over to the room, using a set of keys to open it before standing behind you.

in-ho however did not step out. he simply grabbed the man who was already fighting for his dear life, locking him in a headlock.

“w-what?” you asked, backing away from in-ho as his eyes pooled with anger.

“take her upstairs.” he said to the guard as he nodded, lifting you up and dragging you away.

the last thing you heard was the loud crack of the man’s neck echoing through your ears.

(i am going insane)

I LOVE HOW ITS LIKEE JUST DAILY OR NORMAL LIFE WITH IN-HO LIKEE MWA MWAA CHEFS KISS 👌💛

 Which Boyfriend Calls Back First?

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your friends test your boyfriends' responsiveness with a playful TikTok challenge, and naturally, your devoted boyfriend In-ho is the first to call back.

Warnings: Fluff, Cute!inho, Clingy!Inho, Protective!Inho.

Word count: 1k

You and your four friends—Yuri, May, Chaein, and Hayoung—gather around the dining table, each of you armed with your smartphones. The room buzzes with a mix of excitement and nervous laughter as you all prepare to join the latest TikTok trend: determining which of your boyfriends will respond the fastest to a missed call.

"Okay, ladies, are we ready?" Yuri asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Ready!" everyone chimes in unison.

You steal a glance at your friends, feeling the collective anticipation building up. "Alright, on the count of three: one, two, three!" you call out.

You all dial your respective partners simultaneously and then quickly hang up, creating what’s known as a "flash" call. The five of you place your phones back on the table, the screens facing up, and exchange amused and curious glances, eager to see which boyfriend will react first.

May leans back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smirk. "I bet Mark will call me back first. He's always so quick to respond."

Chaein laughs, shaking her head. "Oh please, Sunoo is definitely the fastest. Just wait and see."

You feel a familiar flutter of excitement as you look at your phone, fully confident in In-ho’s attentiveness. "Well, let’s just see about that," you say, grinning.

"Honestly, In-ho will probably call back first because he's so obsessed with Y/N. I mean, I'm surprised he even let her come out tonight," Yuri jokes with a knowing smile. 

It was no exaggeration; you and In-ho were practically inseparable. He despised being apart from you and would become upset if you were away for even a few hours. Heading out tonight to spend time with your friends had been an uphill battle, as he did everything he could to persuade you to stay with him instead. His unwavering devotion and the way he always wanted to be near you were endearing, adding a touch of romance to your relationship that made your bond even stronger.

Within moments, your phone lights up and starts ringing. The screen displays In-ho's name, and your heart does a little flip. You catch the surprised looks from your friends and can't help but laugh.

"Damn, In-ho’s fast!" Hayoung exclaims, genuinely impressed.

You pick up your phone, feeling a surge of warmth. "Hello?" you answer, trying to suppress a giggle.

"Is everything okay?" In-ho’s voice comes through, filled with concern.

"Everything's fine, love. It was just a little game we were playing," you say, your voice softening.

In-ho is renowned for his authoritative role and his emotionally guarded demeanor, but in moments like these, the depth of his love for you becomes undeniably clear. Despite the demands of his position as the Front Man, where he commands control and garners respect from everyone around him, you are the exception to his rigid exterior. Even amidst his busy schedule, he always ensures to carve out time for you, willing to drop anything at a moment's notice just to be by your side.

The room fills with light-hearted groans and chuckles as your friends mock-complain about losing the lighthearted competition. "Looks like Y/N's the winner," Yuri concedes with a playful pout.

You walk into another room, still on the phone with your love. In-ho's concern is palpable, yet there's a gentle humor in his voice as he says, "I could hear those groans and laughs—sounds lively over there."

"It's definitely lively," you reply, a soft laugh escaping. "We're just caught up in a silly game right now. But everything's all good, nothing to worry about."

There’s a brief pause, and you can imagine him thoughtfully staring into the distance, just as he often does.

"Are you having fun?" he asks, his tone lightening.

You smile, "Yeah, it's a lot of fun. We're all really into these goofy challenges."

"Good," In-ho replies, a warm undertone in his voice. "Do you need me to pick up anything from the store before you come back home?"

You think for a moment and then smile. "Actually, could you grab some snacks for later? You know, our usuals."

"Consider it done," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Anything else?"

"No, that should be it. Thanks, love," you say, feeling grateful for his thoughtfulness. "Just get yourself home safely."

"I will," he promises. "I miss you."

Your heart swells at his simple admission. "I miss you too," you reply softly. "I'll see you soon."

As you hang up, your thoughts wander to the unique dynamic of your relationship with In-ho. You know that most people would probably find having a clingy, overprotective boyfriend suffocating or annoying. They might complain about the constant check-ins or the way he always wants to know you're safe. But for you, it's different. His attentiveness and concern are like a warm blanket on a cold night—they wrap you in a sense of comfort and security that you've come to cherish deeply.

You love how every call, every message from him is a small reminder that you are loved and valued. In a world that often feels chaotic and unpredictable, his protective nature provides a reassuring constant. In-ho has a way of making you feel like you are the most important person in his world, and it's a feeling you wouldn't trade for anything.

Your mind drifts back to a conversation you had with him not long ago. He had confessed that he had never been this way with anyone before. "I've never felt the need to be so protective," he had admitted, his voice soft but sincere. "But with you, I just want to make sure you're always okay."

His words had struck a chord deep within you. Knowing that his behavior wasn't a default setting but something unique to your relationship made you appreciate it even more. It was as if you had unlocked a part of him that had remained hidden until you came into his life.

Rejoining your friends, you can't help but smile, the warmth of In-ho's recent call lingering like a tender embrace. The noise and laughter around you feel a bit more vibrant, the evening a bit more enjoyable, all because of the love and devotion you know is waiting for you at home.

I would definitely recommend this series I can’t explain how much I love it 💕

Thank you for blessing my eyes with this beautiful masterpiece 😭💕

DUSK TILL DAWN MASTERLIST

pairing: hwang inho x fem reader

warnings: stated in every part

dusk till dawn

baby i'm right here (finale)

blurbs and extras:

fly me to the moon

comment to be tagged in future blurbs!

GURLL THATS SO FR LIKE IVE READ EVERYTHING ALR I NEED MOREEE 😭

i need this man in ways that is concerning to feminism SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE FOR HIM IM WAITING PATIENTLY😭😭

AHHHH I LOVEE THIS SO SO MUCH I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LOVE IT 🩷

fly me to the moon

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, he's in his late 40s) angst, slight masochism, made him very fatherly again, mutual obsession, badly written smut, conflicting feelings, she's kinda crazy about him, brat reader, brat tamer inho, unhealthy dynamics, slight infantilization

summary: you're desperate to piss him off. it doesn't end well.

word count: 4.2k

THIRD & FINAL INSTALLMENT IN THE DUSK TILL DAWN SERIES. READ PART 1 AND 2 HERE.

the ankle monitor attached to your leg itches.

you grunt in irritation as you use a spoon to scratch the area. it barely helps— you know the itching is more mental than it is physical. the mere presence of it bothers you. but at the same time, you're relieved. you were given two options— either that, or still having your hand chained to the bed with those insufferable straps. you chose the former. atleast it allows you to walk freely.

you're still not used to this lifestyle. honestly speaking, you've lost track of how long it's been. you mainly tried to count the days based upon the games, but inho doesn't allow you to witness the brutality of the newer games he's designed. he never even mentions them— pretends like it was all a dream and that everything between the two of you is okay. you pretend you don't almost piss yourself whenever his voice switches mid conversation— or when he puts on that mask and grabs his gun before leaving.

while it irritates you, a part of you is almost grateful. atleast this way, you can pretend you don't know exactly how sadistic he can be.

you almost snort at your thinking. you feel pathetic— but then again, do you have a choice?

he's given you free reign of his lavish penthouse— conveniently keeping any and all electronics or sharp objects away from you. which, you need to clap him on the back for. because the first thing you did when you were left alone and uncuffed was look for anything that you could use to hurt yourself— to touch an empathetic nerve in inho. your confidence in thinking of doing so was because he's made it clear how much the idea of losing you scared him. you tried to joke with him the other day— something about him coming back to find you bleeding out on the floor, and he got so furious that he threw his bottle of whiskey against the wall and then gave you an earful about making distasteful jokes. you almost considered running over and grabbing a glass shard and killing yourself in front of him to truly traumatize him like he did with you; but then the thought of your family and your dignity stops you.

you will not kill yourself over a man.

you've thought of many jokes since then, but never dared mention them in his presence.

currently, you were frolicking around— eyeing the massive screen on which he apparently watches the games. you'd insisted upon it once— and he'd pulled you into his lap and allowed you a single glimpse before hiding your face in the crook of his neck and patting your back till you fell asleep to the sound of 'fly me to the moon.'

your eyes narrow. you look around, desperate to find something. there's an itch within you that you need to scratch—it's different than your ankle. it's the itch to be insufferable, to take a sweet little revenge against your old man; to frustrate him and ruin his day like he ruined your life. you can only hope that if you succeed in doing so, he won't kill your entire family in a fit of rage. you've been forcing your heart to believe he's only bluffing, even though you know he isn't.

your eyes fall upon the side table placed by the couch. you look at it, then at the screen. then back at it. with a newfound vigour, you rush forward and pull out the drawer— it's empty except for a few files. you toss them out and hold the drawer in both hands, before looking back at the screen with the most devilish glint in your eyes.

you let out a victorious roar before lunging— using all the strength you can muster and then thrashing the drawer against the screen.

it doesn't budge. the blow has you stumbling over your steps, and the drawer falls upon your feet. you let out a cry, tears of frustration appearing in your eyes. you scream and pick up the drawer again, and then thrash it against the screen over and over— till your hands hurt and sweat builds across your skin.

the screen remains spotless.

amidst your one sided battle, you fail to hear the sound of the door opening.

"it's shatterproof." a heavy voice announces, distorted through the mask.

panting, you drop the drawer and shoot him the meanest glare you can muster with mascara running down your cheeks. he cocks his head to the side— the barrier of the mask between you two making you feel uneasy.

"are you done acting like a child?"

you release a heavy, shaky breath as you stare at him. you want to jump at him, tear that mask off and slam his head against the wall. you want to kiss him and beg him to spare you and your family. your heart races with adrenaline— and your skin feels hot. acting like a child, he says. he's treated you like a child forever. what's so wrong in acting like one?

you slick your hair back, eyes darting around the room— examining everything you can see, till an idea pops in your head.

against your better judgement, you pick up the drawer again. slowly, like a predator, you walk to the side, your gaze never leaving his figure. you stand before his music box— the one with the pretty jazz band that plays 'fly me to the moon,' whenever he watches the games. you've heard it quite a few times since you got here, and you have buried your head in the pillows a few times to avoid hearing it.

you used to adore frank sinatra, but now you can only associate his lyrics with impending doom.

you wish he wasn't wearing that mask, because you would've loved to see his reaction when you ruined something he visibly finds comfort in. you would've felt bad, if he hadn't done the same to you. if he hadn't taken your young-il from you.

you raise the drawer, and then bring it down fiercely. it almost happens in slow motion— how the music box shatters into pieces, and the tiny dolls fall to the floor.

you pant as you drop the drawer then, and wipe the sweat off your forehead. suddenly feeling brave, you shoot him the most smug smile you can muster in your breathless haze.

the silence that follows is suffocating. you blink at him, shoulders rising and falling with your heavy breaths — while he stands there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back.

"are you gonna keep standing there, watching me?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

you resist the urge to step back as he advances towards you ever so slowly. he looks at his broken music box, then redirects his blank, masked face back at you.

you egged him on, "aren't you gonna say something?"

"was this supposed to anger me?" he asks. you can detect a hint of amusement in his voice, "a man in my position doesn't have materialistic attachments."

you scoff, vision almost turning red with rage at his tone.

"i think i can afford another music box," he adds dryly, cocking his head to the side, "but what do i do about your manners?"

your eyes narrow with agitation— you were so desperate to piss him off, to evoke an actual reaction out of him; but he isn't giving you one. it frustrates you. before you can do anything, his foot pops out, hits your leg in just the right place to make you shriek and drop to your knees immediately— till the shattered pieces of the box dig into your skin painfully— wood and glass.

"fuck!" you wince, letting out another pained groan. he watches you blankly, and in this moment you wish that mask would just disappear. it makes him look more like a stranger than he already is. you want to see his reaction, even if it is at the expense of your pain. "you— ow! you asshole—"

"language." he chides, bending down slightly so he can grab your hair and yank your head up. you squirm around, trying to get up but he holds you in place, "why must you keep acting like a child—"

"why, i thought i was a child!" you snap back at him angrily, recalling his words from when he refused to send you back into the games. you're furious, "why shouldn't i act like one if you keep treating me that way!"

"do you not want me to?" he asks, giving you a humourless chuckle, "you want me to treat you like the adult you are, huh, darling? i'll treat you like an adult."

you grumble in confusion and he gives your head a little push as he lets go of your hair and straightens up. his hand comes down to shift his robe to the side so he can have access to his dress pants. he pulls it down slightly along with his boxers, revealing how hard he's been by your little show of defiance. your eyes widen and you almost choke on your spit as he grabs your head again, his free hand guiding his cock to your eager mouth, "fuck— is this what you wanted?" he groans, throwing his head back slightly as you wrap your lips around him with the enthusiasm of a slut. he's so unbelievably thick— and all your knowledge for sucking dick comes from porn, so you try your best— forgetting almost every vengeful thought as the skin of his neck is exposed to your vision.

you have never wanted a man this badly.

small cuts on the skin of your knees open up because of the damage you caused, but you can't bring yourself to think about it— not when you lick a long, wet stripe on the underside of his cock, before placing a teasing kiss upon his tip. he looks down at you again, his gloved hand digging into your hair, guiding your head up and down as you try to take him fully into your mouth. your hands come up in an attempt to hold what your mouth can't, but he slaps them away, "put those behind your back."

this time, you obey. your eyes water as he immediately pushes himself to the hilt till your nose presses against the coarse hair at his public bone— and only then you know that you are truly gone, because you moan at the smell of him. he lets out a soft grunt again when he pulls your head back, before thrusting in and out of your mouth gently. your hands stay clasped behind your back as he uses your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin as your watery eyes look up at him. you wish you could see him— you want to see his face, you want to see what he looks like when he cums in your mouth for the first time.

you whimper, pulling your head back slightly. he allows you, and you lean down to press a needy kiss to his balls before licking up his cock again. your voice is hoarse when you speak, "let me see your face."

he looks at you for a bit— the stoic face of the mask making you feel more and more isolated— like you're pleasuring someone else. and perhaps, you are, in a way. this isn't your young-il anymore.

"after that little stunt," he answers quietly, voice grim, "you don't deserve it."

you almost whine as he grabs your head again and forces his cock back down your throat— and then you realize what this is. what you thought started as some sort of reward is actually a punishment. you whimper as you gag around him, choking with each sharp thrust as his movements begin to get harsher. tears run down your face as you glare at him, and in retaliation you bring your hand up and grab his thigh. he hisses at being disobeyed, pulls your head forward till you nose is quite literally pressed against his stomach. "hands. behind your back."

despite struggling to breathe, you shake your head as best as you can given the situation. you can't see his face, but you can tell the exact expression he must be making. the one where his eyes get all intense, and his lips start quivering with rage, as if he wants to explode.

you moan slightly and take the opportunity to pull your head back. and then get back to sucking his cock— your tongue rolling deliciously across his shaft as you cup his balls. it almost makes him stumble with shock— the sudden pleasure he feels, judging by the throaty moan that escapes him. motivated by his newfound weakness, you jerk him off while mouthing at the soft skin of his balls, and he almost bends down as he lets out a raspy groan, "fuck! that feels— fuck!"

"language," you tease slightly, voice raspy. you enthusiastically indulge him, your brain suddenly consisting of him, and only him. his voice. his face. his moans. the way his eyes crinkle. you switch from sucking his balls to kissing his tip and jerking him off.

as if to reward you, he suddenly pulls his mask off, one hand of his going up to hold onto the wall for support. he squeezes his eyes shut, and the mere sight of his face has you crumbling— you let out a soft moan as you take him down your throat again. one of your hands slips into your panties, and you start rubbing your clit with vigour as he fucks your throat.

"you little fucking brat—" he grunts, thrusting shallowly in and out of your mouth, the vein in his neck popping and a few strands of his styled hair falling beautifully down his forehead. he's hot when he swears, you think— starry eyed as you look at him. you've never seen a more angelic sight. as you gurgle around his cock, he holds your head down again and throws his head back, cumming with a loud gasp. you cum with a choked moan of your own, your hand shaking as you rub circles into your clit, overstimulating yourself.

you choke as you feel him spill down your throat, and he pants heavily as he slowly pulls himself back, before quickly tucking himself into his pants. you swallow it and cough slightly, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as you wince a little— it leaves a bitter and sticky aftertaste, but nothing too bad. you're sure you'll get used to it. he grabs your wrist and bends down to stick your wet fingers in his mouth, licking your slick off. his tongue rolls around the digits and you moan, eyes dazed as he ensures your entire palm is clean, before pulling back while smacking his lips and humming in appreciation like you were the most prized delicacy in the world.

as if nothing happened, he swiftly picks you up like you're a mere doll— carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. your hair— damp with sweat, sticks to your skin, and your eyes are bloodshot.

and though you can remember your original intention being wanting to take revenge, this somehow felt much more better.

perhaps, you really are too far gone.

you look off into space thoughtfully as he settles you on the bathroom counter. his face is uncovered but guarded— he takes his gloves off, grabs a towel and wets it with water before tending to you. with utmost gentleness, he pulls your bottoms down and tosses them in the basket, before analyzing your wounds.

your panties are so wet it's almost shameful. you got that horny just by sucking his cock. he glances at your face, and you look away sheepishly. the smell of you makes his head spin, but he needs to concentrate on something else. you clear your throat and redirect your attention to his face.

you stare at him while he stares at your knees. he gently wipes the blood off, ensuring no remaining pieces of the music box stick to your skin. he disinfects your wounds and it makes you hiss— he almost winces at the sound, but you're not sure.

you don't understand why he's doing this. how can he hurt you and tend to your wounds at the same time? but then again, how can you hate him and let him do this to you at the same time too?

perhaps, you both are confused. you need someone to rely on, and he needs someone to need him. but neither of you know how to deal with the complications that come with your unconventional relationship, so you pretend it's normal. it's okay.

you look at him but he doesn't meet your gaze. you wish you could go back in time, or travel to another dimension. meet him under different circumstances. perhaps, that relationship would've been healthy. you clear your throat, and change the subject.

"you know, back in the hall," it hurts a little to talk, but you want to hear his voice, and you're desperate to talk about something. anything to end this silence. "before i was leaving to come to you, the old lady said something funny."

he stiffens at the mention of her, and you pretend not to notice. he doesn't glance at you as he cleans your knees, before placing a comforting palm on your thigh. he hums in question, gaze lowered.

"she called you my father," you chuckle slightly, your voice suddenly getting shaky, "isn't that funny? such a funny thing to assume."

he tenses at your words and clenches his jaw. his thumb rubs circles onto the skin of your thigh, before he lets out a small chuckle of his own— it sounds dry. he finally looks up at you— and you almost see a glimpse of your young-il in his eyes. you think he looks upset. you wonder if you offended him, and you consider apologizing, but he interrupts your train of thought.

"really?" he asks quietly, giving you a small smile. it's odd, engaging in casual conversation with him after the little fight you two just had. "well, with how many times i looked after you—"

"—you might as well be," you finish his sentence with a roll of your eyes, "yeah, i know."

he gives a soft, hearty laugh then, tapping your knee. "yeah." he trails off, voice getting quieter. distant. "might as well be."

his mind drifts off. if he hadn't been so late, his kid would've been around your age. perhaps, that's why he immediately grew protective of you during the games. perhaps, it was fate.

your gaze softens, face falling slightly. he looks distant again— like he's fighting a war within himself. you swallow the lump in your throat.

"i saw you that way at first, you know." you said quietly, blinking down at your lap. "you made me feel safe." and now all i feel is fear around you.

he looks at you wordlessly, gaze unreadable. he's thinking— reading you, but you can't do the same with him. he has way more experience at hiding his thoughts and expressions than you do. he's spent decades confined within these walls with people in masks being his only companions— he learned how to wear one himself. permanently. he wants to tell you that you're an open book to him— since the start.

"do i not anymore?" he questions instead, cocking his head to side. you roll your eyes, shoulders slumping as you shoot him an impassive glare.

"seriously?" you ask, voice obvious. it makes him smirk slightly, and he clenches his jaw to hide it.

he cups your face, pulls it up as he looks into your eyes. you don't say a word, simply glaring at him as he places a kiss upon your forehead.

"let me tell you," he quirks an eyebrow— a hint of a smile on his face as he squishes your cheeks, "no kid of mine would be a brat."

you scoff, pushing his hands off as you look away from him. he looks unbothered as he grabs you and puts you back down on the floor.

"i can do that myself, thanks." you huff, straightening your shoulders as you brush past him.

he grabs your hand, pulls you back towards him till you collide into his chest. he cups the side of your face, gently leaning down to rub your noses together. it almost leaves you breathless with how flustered you feel.

"would you rather i give you the silent treatment again?" his voice is unabashedly soft as he speaks. "you didn't like that last time."

your breath hitches, and your heart begins to race again. you clench your jaw before closing your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. you remember collapsing in his arms and crying your heart out when he gave you the silent treatment— being ignored by him hurt and made you feel alone in a way you hadn't felt in years.

you shake your head no.

he smiles. it's almost sinister. his eyes are still crinkly and he would look so utterly adorable to you before— but now, you know his intentions. you can tell when he's smiling only because he's hiding a different approach.

"then you'll behave, won't you?" he whispers, placing a soft kiss upon your lips. you blink rapidly before nodding again.

"good," he says quietly, softly tapping your cheek before letting go and composing himself. "i'll clean that mess up. go back to bed and take a nap, you must be tired after that little show."

you grit your teeth before shooting him a glare, and he merely blinks at you, amused, before you rush back to the bedroom.

he follows not long after, wearing only a black undershirt and his pants. you stare at him as he gently places a tray on your bedside table. you sit up, looking at it curiously. it's a cup of tea.

"for your throat," he explains softly with a pat to your head. the gesture makes your heart feel warm— and once again you start wishing you had met him under different circumstances where he didn't practically kidnap you. that way, your guilty conscience wouldn't berate you for desiring him so much, for being so comfortable around him.

he stands by his own side of the bed, fiddling with his wristwatch. you sit up properly and blow on the tea before drinking it, humming in appreciation. it's your favourite beverage.

he gets into bed soon enough, sighing to himself. you place the empty cup on the table and look off to the side, not wanting to meet his gaze, no matter how good he looks.

he says your name softly and you melt.

you look at him and he tenderly caresses your face with the back of his hand. you wish you could read his thoughts.

you swallow your pride and say what you've been thinking.

"why did you never apologize to me?"

his gaze hardens slightly and his hand pauses. you swallow hard as you await his answer.

"because i'm not sorry," he says calmly, "I don't regret anything i did."

you clench your jaw, "not even hurting me or my feelings?"

he chuckles a little— amused at your naivety, "I don't regret doing anything that brought you to me."

you blink at him before looking away. he forces you to meet his gaze by grabbing your chin.

"i don't regret anything," he repeats lowly, eyes intense. "as long as i get to have you."

"you hurt me." you whisper, voice cracking.

"i know." he nods, "you'll get over it. you're my brave girl, aren't you?"

you grit your teeth so hard you fear your jaw might snap. you glare at him, while he looks at you indifferently. wordlessly, he opens his arms and welcomes you into the comforting little space he created. you consider running off, defying him, breaking the tea cup and using the glass to threaten him or just killing yourself— anything.

bur you don't. like always, you succumb to him, and give up control. you eagerly crawl into his side and he holds your head against his chest. he pulls the sheets over the two of you and pecks your forehead.

"still don't feel safe?" he asks, almost teasingly. you can't believe he keeps trying to joke with you— he's cruel. you scoff, giving him a weak shove and he grabs your wrist and holds your palm against his chest. you can feel his heart beating. you wonder if yours beats this loud too.

you get comfortable a few moments after, and force yourself not to think about your life before the games. before him. you wonder if your family is happy, if they're wondering where you are. you wonder if your mother thinks you're dead, you wonder if she still prays for you. even if your family thinks you're dead, you hope they find happiness and move on from the thought of you. you hope they live a life of ease.

the thoughts make you sniffle and you hold back the urge to cry, burying your head further into his chest. he hums softly, patting your head almost paternally till you fall asleep, and only when he is completely sure that you're out of it, that he allows himself to close his eyes too.

and the next day, the cycle repeats.

A/N: another song title because i have no creativity... anyway this was meant to be a blurb but i ended up writing a glimpse into their relationship because i love them so much. and well.. the smut is mid but i hope you guys enjoyed it. thank you for reading and thank you for the support!! i love all of you.

I LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCHHH 😫😫

I wanted to request a Frontman smut where he gets really jealous and possessive. You can write the storyline however you want. Thank you and much love from Germany 🖤

i'm so sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it! i really enjoyed writing this one!!

You're Mine

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: you're mine by phantogram

warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY

You sat in the large leather chair, listening to quiet jazz music as you finished up your work for the day on your tablet. The final round was to begin tomorrow, and the remaining three players had just finished their celebratory dinner. As the day was turning to evening, In-ho was still out dealing with the intruder. You wanted to go with him and help, but had too many things to deal with, mainly keeping the VIPs from figuring out what was going on. 

Your relationship with In-ho was a strange one. You’d worked together now for about a year, and in many ways you felt like you knew him as a close friend and a stranger at the same time. You knew many things about him yet still longed to know more, and sometimes he felt so far away you’d questioned everything you’d known about him before. He was an enigmatic figure to you. 

At times, you felt your heart leap at the thought of him, or the sight of him, and wondered if he felt the same for you. You wanted to think he did when his eyes lingered on you a second too long, or when he stood a little too close to you, but nothing ever happened beyond little things like that, and it confused you. And because of his temperament, you never wanted to make the first move.

As you sat there wondering how he was doing with the intruder, you were pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of the elevator opening. You turned around in the chair to see In-ho walking down the hallway, hand over his shoulder and mask still on. He walked straight to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. You could tell, even under the mask, he was upset.

You decided to stay put, not wanting to interfere with whatever he was dealing with. After a while, you heard shuffling and a soft clang on metal on metal, followed by a groan. He was clearly in a lot of pain. What the hell was going on?

Before you could decide whether or not to offer help, you heard a loud thud and the clanging of metal falling to the ground. You quickly stood up and rushed to the door, hesitating in confusion before knocking. 

“In-ho? Are you okay?”

Complete silence followed.

You knocked again with no response. After a few moments, you slowly opened the door to find In-ho lying on the ground unconscious, blood pouring out of a wound on his shoulder. He’d removed his mask and coat to reveal a black tank top.

“In-ho?!” you cried, stunned. He was unresponsive.

You kneeled next to him, shaking his uninjured shoulder to get him to wake up, but nothing worked. The bleeding continued and by the pale color in his face, you knew it was dire. Looking around, you noticed a bullet in a metal dish and first aid supplies on the counter.

You quickly grabbed everything you could and began to treat his wound. He definitely needed stitches. Fortunately you’d been trained for moments like this, though it wasn’t the ideal option. After stitching the wound and applying bandages, you lifted him up as best as you could at the shoulders to lean him on the wall. He still hadn’t awoken, but thankfully the color was returning to his face.

You wet a small towel and began to gently wipe around his face and neck. You were beyond concerned, hoping he would wake up soon. If he didn’t, you’d probably have to bring this up with the others, and if the VIPs found out there was an intruder… it might be worse than getting shot.

You sighed as these thoughts swirled in your mind, and began to clean the blood around his arm and shoulder. You were worried about the VIPs, of course, but most of all you just hoped he would be okay. What would you do if he wasn’t around anymore? Selfishly, you almost regretted never being forward with your feelings for him. What if it was too late?

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you tried to keep it in, taking a deep breath to try to calm yourself. As you looked around, unsure of what to do next, you heard In-ho groan. Pain was etched on his face, but you were just happy he was conscious and alive.

“In-ho? In-ho, it’s me.” You gently touched his hand to let him know of your presence.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at you. He took a deep breath, grimacing, before looking around. 

“In-ho, what happened?”

He looked at you and leaned his head back on the wall, closing his eyes. You could tell he was trying to push through the pain, so you stood up to grab some pain medication and filled a glass of water at the sink.

You kneeled down again. “Here, take this.” You put the pill in his mouth and held the glass to his lips, encouraging him to drink. He looked at you confused for a moment before sipping the water, and took the glass with his good arm.

You sat there as he drank and set the water down. In-ho looked down at his wound, noticing it was bandaged. He sighed and reached forward, touching his hand on yours.

“Thank you.”

You nodded and squeezed his hand. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on you. Your mind was already shaken from fear of In-ho not making it, but now you were even more overwhelmed.

“Was it the intruder?” you asked, softly.

“Yes.”

“Where is he now?”

“Gone.”

You nodded. At least that was taken care of. You sighed, feeling exhausted to your core. It was late and both of you needed to rest. You stood up and reached your hand out to him.

“You should get some rest.”

He sighed and held your hand, slowly standing up with your help. Instantly, he groaned from dizziness, and leaned on your shoulders for support. You slowly walked him to his room towards his bed, helping him sit down. He sat up on his headboard and pillow, his head drifting to the side from his delirious state.

You noticed he started bleeding again and quickly grabbed more bandages and towels. As you fixed him up again, he groaned from the pain but still seemed out of it. It killed you inside to cause him pain but you knew it was necessary. After finishing up, you wiped the sweat from his face again, sitting next to him on the bed.

In-ho looked at you through half-lidded eyes, his breath calming.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered, slightly smiling.

You softly chuckled, not used to hearing such words from him. You continued to gently wipe his face, and he put his hand over yours. You stared at him silently as his hand grasped yours tightly. It was at this moment you noticed your faces were incredibly close, and you felt your cheeks flush red. 

You stared at each other for several moments, and you felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him. But what if he didn’t feel the same for you? What if you were just caught up in the moment? You felt selfish for wanting him after something so terrible just happened.

Your fears were quickly quelled when he leaned forward ever so slightly. “Come here.”

That was all you needed to hear. You gently leaned forward and pressed your lips on his, his lips eagerly responding to yours. For as tough of an image as he had, his lips were so satisfyingly soft. You pulled away and looked at each other for a brief moment, almost silently asking for permission to continue, before he leaned forward to kiss you again. You dropped the damp towel and held his face with both hands as he reached forward to touch your face. Though his other arm had limited movement from his injured shoulder, he reached forward and rested that hand on your thigh.

Your kisses were quickly becoming more intense and heated, and In-ho reached his hand from your face to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him and deepening the kiss. As your tongues began melting with each other, he lightly pulled on your hair and you moaned softly. He groaned in response, pulling your hair harder. You were getting lost in the moment and leaned forward, starting to move to sit on his lap as his hands went to your sides. Immediately, In-ho groaned and pulled away.

He grasped his shoulder out of pain, grimacing. You sat back down next to him, ashamed for going too far while he was in this condition. Now wasn’t the time no matter how much you both wanted it. You both needed to rest, and In-ho was clearly too delirious and in pain for you to go further. You sighed and gave him a pitying look, and he reached his hand to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed.

“Don’t be,” you said as you slightly smiled. “Get some rest. Do you need anything?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes closed. You could tell he was already drifting into unconsciousness. You stood up and pulled his blanket over him, trying to make him as comfortable as possible. Before you turned around to leave, you heard him mumble.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

You looked at him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in your mind. You were worried for him, having been injured so severely and being in such pain, but you were also happy you finally had some sort of confession of your feelings. Knowing he felt the same towards you made you feel elated inside. You were happily anticipating what was to come, once this round of games were over and In-ho was recovered.

“Goodnight, In-ho.”

~~~

The next day you and In-ho stayed with the VIPs during the final round. Before going to meet them, you briefly saw each other unmasked in passing, but his face was stoic. He didn’t even acknowledge you. You knew he was going through a lot, so you tried to push away your disappointment. Though your mind was overwhelmed, you had to stay focused in front of the VIPs. 

The day went by without any problems, and by the end of the day you were riding in the limo with In-ho and the final winner. You briefly had your masks off, before the sleeping gas was released, but In-ho barely looked at or acknowledged you. Even after dropping the winner off, he kept his mask on while you took yours off.

You sat awkwardly as the limo drove to your apartment. You glanced at him a couple of times, but he stayed facing forward, completely silent. He was known for his temperament, you knew that, but what had him so upset right now that he couldn’t even acknowledge you?

Did he regret it?

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, glancing at him. “Are you okay?”

He stayed silent for a while, before sighing and turning away. “I’m fine.”

It was the first time he spoke to you all day, and he sounded irritated. What was so wrong with you asking him if he was okay? You started becoming irritated yourself, scoffing and turning away. It was clear he thought everything that happened the night before was a mistake, and now you were just upset with yourself for having a moment of weakness.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw In-ho glance at you briefly, but that just made you even more annoyed. Luckily the limo was pulling up to your apartment, and you promptly got out without acknowledging In-ho, quickly walking to the building.

Once you made it inside your apartment, you threw your belongings on the ground and sat on your couch, stewing in your thoughts. There had been so much tension between you two, it only felt natural to act on your feelings that night. He even initiated it. So what was the problem today? Why would he regret it?

You groaned out of frustration and tried to distract yourself. There was no use dwelling on it. If he didn’t want anything to do with you, there was nothing you could do about it. 

Or was there?

The next day you had plans to go to dinner with In-ho, Il-nam, and the salesman, to celebrate the end of the games. You didn’t know much about the salesman. He intentionally stayed elusive to almost everyone, not revealing his name on purpose. With his role, it was probably best to stay as anonymous as possible.

You hadn’t interacted with him much before, but maybe if In-ho saw the two of you together…

~~~

The next evening, you were waiting outside of your apartment building for the limo to pick you up. You’d gone all out, putting on a revealing but still dinner-appropriate outfit and a comfortable layer of makeup, hair done perfectly. It was certainly unlike anything you’d worn during work, which hopefully would do the trick. You figured if In-ho really wanted to forget what happened that night, you’d make it hard for him to do so. And if he didn’t care, then what was the harm in having a little fun trying to make him jealous?

The limo arrived and the door opened from the inside to reveal the salesman with his alluring smile, beckoning you to join him. 

“Y/n, good to see you again.” You could see him looking you up and down in slight surprise as you walked towards him. This would be too easy.

You entered the limo and sat next to the salesman towards the middle. Though the seat extended the length of the limo, the two of you sat close to each other. He poured the two of you a glass of champagne as the limo began driving towards In-ho’s apartment.

“To another successful year.” He flashed his smile again and touched his glass to yours.

The two of you made small talk on the way to pick up In-ho. It was clear he was attracted to you, leaning in when you spoke, looking at you like you were a work of art, and you played into every bit of it. If you didn’t have such strong feelings for In-ho, you thought you’d consider pursuing things further with him.

The limo quickly arrived in front of In-ho, who let himself in, sitting on the back seat. For a moment, you were speechless, noticing his sleek attire. He was dressed in all black, everything fitting absolutely perfectly. You instantly smelled his cologne and your heart leaped. Seeing him outside of the standard Front Man uniform, looking that exquisite, took your breath away.

You took a deep breath, pulling yourself together. You had an objective here, and you couldn’t forget how coldly he treated you just the day before. You sat up straight and sipped your champagne, nodding as the salesman greeted him. In-ho looked at you, and unbeknownst to you had a similar reaction as you did seeing him. He was taken aback by your attire and how good you looked. You felt his eyes linger on you and hoped he was already regretting his behavior.

As the limo drove to the restaurant, you set down your glass and turned a bit towards the salesman, facing away from In-ho. “It’s weird to see you without the briefcase,” you chuckled.

He smiled. “It’s weird to see you without the mask… and everything else,” he replied, looking at your dress. You laughed in response, reaching forward to playfully push his arm.

In-ho scoffed softly to himself, something the salesman didn’t pick up on but you did. You turned around slightly, making eye contact. He stared intensely at you, you could see the irritation all over his face. You wanted to smirk but tried your best to keep it in. 

You reached for your champagne glass and gave him the most innocent looking face. “Do you want some champagne?” you asked before sipping from your glass, never breaking eye contact.

He stared at you intensely for a few moments before looking away, scoffing again. “No.”

You slowly turned back towards the salesman, who raised his eyebrows, sensing the bad attitude from In-ho. You chuckled to yourself and gave him a sweet smile, keeping up the facade. You continued to make flirty small talk as the three of you made your way to the restaurant.

Upon arriving, the three of you met with Il-nam and were seated. You sat across from In-ho, getting a dangerously good view of him. He glanced at you briefly, taking your breath away, and again you had to compose yourself before you ruined your plan.

The dinner went by pleasantly overall, and you could tell you were getting under In-ho’s skin. Anytime you laughed or gave the salesman a flirty look, you’d glance at In-ho, who was always boring his eyes into you. He knew what game you were playing, but he was surprised nonetheless. You’d even caught him rolling his eyes a couple times.

Once the dinner was over, Il-nam politely said goodbye while the three of you waited for the limo to pick you up again. As you stood there, you shivered a bit in the cold air. The salesman noticed and shrugged off his coat.

“Here, you’re shivering.” He gently laid the coat across your shoulders.

You gave him a sweet smile, but felt a little awkward. You weren’t really planning on going further with this act, yet In-ho still hadn’t done anything about it. Maybe it wasn’t worth it…

You were pulled out of your thoughts by In-ho stepping closer to you, leaning to whisper in your ear. “Are you trying to upset me?”

His words sent shivers down your spine. You turned to him slightly. “Is it working?” you said innocently, knowing it was bothering him.

He scoffed and looked away, seemingly pondering your words. The salesman gave you a weird look, bringing back the awkward feeling from before. Almost as if In-ho could sense this, he snatched the coat from your shoulders and handed it to the salesman.

“They’re taking too long. I’ll take her home.”

The salesman slowly took the coat, dismayed, and looked at you for confirmation. You looked at In-ho for a second, shocked, but quickly turned to the salesman and nodded. In-ho grabbed your wrist and you began walking away with him. The salesman, however, wouldn’t let you get away that easily.

“Hey!” He quickly walked towards you and grabbed your shoulder, gently turning you around. “I can take you home.”

You gave him a polite smile and shook your head. “That’s alright.” You turned around and wrapped your arm around In-ho’s arm, continuing to walk.

He scoffed, giving you a confused look. “So… that’s it?”

You stopped, and In-ho looked at you annoyed. You turned around again, looking down, just a little ashamed at your behavior, but you smirked nonetheless. “That’s it.” You gave him one last look and turned around again.

As you walked away, you heard the salesman scoff, “Fucking slut.”

This time In-ho was the one to stop and turn around. “Excuse me?”

The salesman laughed. “You’ve seen the way she’s been acting tonight.”

In-ho smirked. “Yes. I have.” He stepped in front of you. “Who do you think she was doing that for? You?”

The salesman scowled, looking away, silent.

In-ho scoffed. “Don’t be so foolish.”

He turned around and you finally walked away together without any interruptions. You made your way to the train and got on, sitting next to each other. Luckily it was empty as it was late at night.

After several moments of silence, you sighed. “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

You looked at him, noticing a hardened, stoic expression on his face. “So now you want to talk to me?”

He looked away. “I could say the same.”

“I didn’t ignore you.”

“Oh, I’m very much aware.” He glanced at you briefly.

“I had to get your attention somehow.”

He scoffed and turned towards you, eyeing you before responding. “You’ve had my attention.”

You blushed at his words, but composed yourself. “Don’t act like you didn’t ignore me yesterday.”

In-ho sighed, crossing his arms. “You couldn’t give me just one day to get my thoughts together?”

“You couldn’t just acknowledge me?”

“So because I didn’t acknowledge you, you had to act like a whore in front of that man?”

You looked at him, stunned. “If I’m not yours, then what does it matter to you?”

He stared at you for a few moments, seemingly holding back a smile. “Is that it? Do you want to be mine?”

Inside you were going crazy, but you tried your best to keep your cool, rolling your eyes. “Not if you’re going to be an asshole.”

“Watch it,” he said, with a serious tone now.

You glared at him. “With the way you’re acting, I should’ve stayed with him.”

He frowned, leaning in and speaking low. “With the way you’re acting, I should just claim you as mine, right here, hmm? Is that what you want?”

Your face flushed red instantly, and you gave him an innocent look, leaning in. “Does that mean you’ll give me what I want?”

You could tell you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leaning in to kiss your neck and whisper in your ear. “Only if you’re good.”

You pouted. “Haven’t I been good?”

He chuckled. “Far from it.”

You smirked and turned away from him. “You seem to be enjoying it well enough.”

“You think I enjoyed watching you throw yourself at him?”

“And now I’m going home with you. Isn’t that a good thing?”

He paused for a moment. “I would’ve taken you home regardless.”

You turned to him, his features soft now, his lips almost pouting. You realized he might be genuinely hurt at your actions, though he’d never admit it. For a moment, you felt bad for him. You rested your hand on his cheek and gave him a soft kiss.

You looked at him dejectedly. “What was I supposed to think after you treated me like that?”

He leaned into your hand, sighing, but stayed silent.

You sighed, removing your hand and looking down. “I thought you regretted it.”

In-ho brought his hand to your face, just as you had just done, and kissed you, rougher this time. He pulled back and looked at you with fierce sincerity.

“Never. I would never regret that.”

As you stared at him, your heart was filled with unexplainable emotions, but you felt content at his admission. Before you could get further caught up in the moment, the train arrived at your stop.

In-ho sighed and stood up, reaching his hand towards you. “Let’s go.”

~~~

You entered In-ho’s apartment with him, a decent one bedroom space, but not quite indicative of the money he actually owned. You took a look around for a moment before In-ho turned you around to face him, immediately kissing you. You welcomed the sudden closeness again and wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as you continued.

In-ho ran his hands along your back and sides, pulling you close to him. His hands gave you goosebumps all over your skin, your senses begging for more of him. You pulled on the collar of his coat, softly whining.

He pulled away, bringing his hand to your face. “What is it?” he said as he ran his thumb along your pouting lips.

You whined and pulled at his coat again while taking his thumb into your mouth, sucking lightly. His eyes darkened and he grabbed your face with both hands, removing his thumb and kissing you roughly, his tongue immediately dominating your own. You moaned softly and ran your hands along his chest desperately.

In-ho pulled away, slightly grinning. “You’re so needy.” He shrugged off his coat, letting it fall to the ground. You leaned in for another kiss as he picked you up, your legs wrapping around him. 

As he carried you to his bedroom, you kissed down to his neck, breathlessly whispering, “I need you.”

He laid you on your back on his bed, hovering over you and eyeing you skeptically. “Really? To me it looks like you’d let just any handsome man touch you like this.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, pulling him in for a kiss. “No. Only you.”

He slightly chuckled, gently caressing your face and holding your jaw. “You know I would have lost it if he touched you.”

“Really? To me it looks like you would’ve let him do whatever he wanted to me.”

He eyed you darkly and held your jaw tighter, huffing. “I don’t care what you think… No one else touches you like this.” He leaned forward to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over. You practically melted under his touch, grasping desperately at his shoulders while softly moaning, too overwhelmed to say anything.

He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. “Fuck… come here.” He pulled your dress up off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear. His eyes lingered on your form before he continued ravaging your neck. His hands roamed your sides, down to your ass and thighs, as you leaned forward on his shoulders. Your moans filled his ears as you slowly lost control of yourself, your hips starting to grind on his growing bulge beneath you. Your movements just encouraged him further and he started biting your neck.

“In-ho, you’re going to leave marks,” you said breathlessly as you pulled away.

“Good. Everyone should know you’re mine.” He leaned forward to your neck again and thrusted forward, pressing his erection against you. You moaned and let him take over, ignoring the fact that you were probably going to wake up with bruises all over your neck. In fact, the thought of it sent shivers throughout your core.

You continued grinding on him and In-ho brought both of his hands to your ass, pressing you even harder on him, guiding the movement of your hips. At this point, you were completely lost in your movements, feeling like you could orgasm just from this. Your pussy was soaked, and you could feel the wetness seeping onto his pants. 

“Fuck, In-ho, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he huffed into your neck. “I feel you making a mess on me, darling.”

You moaned and In-ho pushed you backwards, inspecting your underwear and his pants. “Fuck… look at you.” He ran his hands along your thighs and over your underwear, gently caressing your swollen pussy, your wetness sticky on his fingers.

You cried out, inadvertently grinding on his fingers as he touched you. You were so overwhelmed with pleasure, you just wanted to be fucked. In-ho was captivated by your disheveled state and flushed cheeks. He held himself up on one arm, and with the other pushed your underwear to the side, revealing your soaked pussy. 

“So fucking wet… all for me,” he mumbled as he spread his fingers, covering them in your wetness. He began to insert two fingers at your entrance, intently watching your face as he pushed them all the way in.

You cried out in pleasure and relief at finally having him inside you, at least part of him. His fingers felt divine inside of your cunt, adding a whole new layer of pleasure. He began to pump his fingers in and out, the sensation causing you to almost collapse. You held yourself with your arms behind you, holding on to In-ho’s legs. 

He began to fuck you furiously with his fingers, the feeling of his hand slapping against your clit almost sending you to orgasm right then. In-ho leaned forward and pulled you in close with his other arm as his fingers thrust up into you, kissing you roughly. He pulled your bra up and over your raised arms, not bothering to undo it. His mouth immediately went to one of your breasts, kissing and sucking with as much fervor as his fingers were fucking you. You held on tightly to his shoulders for support, your legs practically giving out beneath you as you moaned uncontrollably.

You pulled him from your breasts and kissed him roughly. “Please,” you panted, “I need you. Right now.”

You frantically began unbuttoning his shirt as he leaned backwards, undoing his pants and shoving them down with his underwear, his cock springing out beneath you. He shrugged his shirt off and guided his cock to your entrance, spreading the tip around your soaked slit. In another world he knew he would probably have taken more time with you, would have maybe been a little more romantic about it all, instead of frantically fucking you like this now. But this is exactly what you both wanted and needed at that moment. After him pining for you for all this time, after you desperately trying to get his attention, you both are finally getting what you wanted.

“Come here,” he said as he pulled you close to him, kissing you roughly as he slowly thrust up into you. Your legs shuddered at the feeling of his cock inside of you, stretching your walls as you adjusted to him. In-ho groaned loudly at the feeling of your cunt around him, your warmth sending goosebumps all over his body. You held on to his shoulders as he started to fuck into you quickly, moaning into his neck.

Immediately you felt your orgasm approaching, as if there was pressure building inside of you just dying to be released. Every stroke of his cock inside of you sent your mind into a frenzy. You felt your mind almost go blank as he fucked you furiously.

“In-ho… fuck, your cock feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he huffed, “you like getting fucked like this?”

“Yes, fuck yes, this is exactly what I wanted,” you cried.

“You wanted to be fucked, huh? By who?” He thrust even harder into you, your moans encouraging him further.

“Only by you. Only you.”

“Yes… you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m yours, fuck I’m all yours,” you cried as you couldn’t think of anything else to say, your orgasm almost approaching.

In-ho roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “No one else can fuck you like this. No one else gets you like I do.” 

You slowly nodded, moaning, your face twisted in pleasure. “No one else.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, his hands roughly holding onto your hips. “You’re gonna make me cum looking like that, darling.”

You mewled at his words. “I think I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

In-ho started thrusting faster up into you. “Cum on my cock, darling.”

You came immediately at his words, your pussy clenching on his cock intensely, every stroke sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. You moaned loudly, unable to control anything anymore. You shook above him as your orgasm rocked your body, satisfaction overwhelming you. As you came down from your high, In-ho continued to thrust into you. You could tell he was close. You kissed him roughly.

“Cum in me.”

He groaned and grabbed your face roughly before pushing you on your back. He pushed your legs apart from the knees and quickly began thrusting into you again, his pace brutal. Though you’d just orgasmed, seeing In-ho like this sparked something more inside of you.

“I’m gonna cum so fucking much in you. So fucking much into your perfect little pussy.” He looked at you and held your face roughly. “Who’s pussy is this?”

You whined beneath him. “Yours, it’s all yours.”

He closed his eyes in pleasure, mouth open, his hips beginning to stutter in their thrusts. He grabbed one of your hands and brought it to your pussy. “Touch yourself,” he huffed.

You began to circle your clit with your fingers, immediately feeling a new wave of pleasure come over you. You moaned loudly and felt your pussy clench on him, causing him to moan with you. He leaned forward and wrapped one of his hands around your throat.

“You’re gonna cum on my cock again. You’re gonna watch me cum inside you and then you’re gonna cum again.”

You mewled at his words, your body writhing under him. He moved his hand from your throat to the back of your head, pushing it down and forcing you to watch his cock thrust into you. The sight of it almost made you cum right then.

In-ho groaned loudly, thrusts stuttering again into slower, harder ones. “Fuck, look at what you do to me, I’m fucking cumming.” His moans filled your ears as you watched him thrust into you, filling your cunt with his hot cum, his cock throbbing inside of your sensitive cunt. You continued rubbing your clit and saw his cum spill out of you as he continued thrusting, coating your pussy and his cock, sending you over the edge immediately. You cried out beneath him and came as he was still coming down from his high, your pussy clenching on him and prolonging his own orgasm. He held you close as you shuddered beneath him, pleasure overwhelming your body yet again. 

As you both calmed down, In-ho laid on his side next to you and pulled you close to him, kissing your forehead. You nestled your head next to his neck, absolutely spent. He wrapped his arms around you, gently rubbing your back.

You noticed the small bandage on his gunshot wound, something you’d completely forgotten about in the heat of the moment. “Is it okay?” you asked as you inspected it.

In-ho smiled softly. “Of course. You did a good job.”

You smiled back and laid your head down again. In-ho ran his hand gently along your neck, inspecting the bruises. Your skin felt raw under his touch, and you noticed his pleased expression. 

“Is it bad?”

He chuckled. “Of course not. You’re covered in my marks… that’s a good thing.” He leaned down to kiss you softly.

You smiled, taking in all of his features up close, and shivered. “I’m cold,” you whispered as you cuddled closer to his warmth.

Instead of pulling the blankets over you, In-ho stood up and scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. “Let’s get cleaned up and then go to sleep.”

You pouted, resting your head on his shoulder. “But I’m tired.”

“Shh, just wait.” He set you on the counter and went to turn the shower on. You turned around and inspected yourself in the mirror, shocked at your disheveled and bruised state. The bruises spread from your neck down to your chest, evidence of In-ho’s desire for you peppered across your skin.

In-ho saw you watching yourself in the mirror and stood next to you. You turned to him, wrapping your arms around him. “Now when he sees me, he’ll know I’m yours.”

In-ho rolled his eyes. “You won’t see him.”

You looked at him with a fake innocent expression. “Why not?”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

You pouted, looking away, silent.

“If you’re trying to upset me again, it won’t work.”

You smirked. “Well it worked last time, and look what that got me.”

In-ho scoffed and slightly smiled. “You don’t have to wonder now. You’re mine,” he said before kissing you softly and whispering, “So if I see you act like that again, it won’t be so easy to get what you want next time.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

He laughed and led you to the shower, both of you helping each other. In-ho was incredibly attentive to you, making your heart flutter. When you were finished and dried off, you crawled back in bed together, exhaustion overtaking you.

You cuddled next to In-ho under the warm covers. “Why didn’t we do this a long time ago?”

He caressed your face, sighing, clearly exhausted as well. “I don’t know. I was too cowardly to do something about it. I’m stupid.”

You laughed, playfully shoving him. “I knew you liked me.”

He smiled and kissed you. “That’s an understatement.”

You sighed contentedly, thinking about all the time you’ve spent together. You’d always felt alone, even working alongside In-ho, but now you had a companion. Someone to lean on and someone to support. The more you thought about it, the more you wondered about the intruder.

“In-ho… you know you can tell me anything. I’m here for you.” You gently touched his shoulder wound, indicating what you were talking about.

His face slightly dropped and he sighed. “I know.” He kissed you. “Thank you.”

You smiled and roughly pulled him close to you. “You're mine too, you know.”

In-ho smiled and rested his head above yours, holding you tight. Despite everything that had happened to him in the past couple days, he felt genuinely happy, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“I know. I always have been.”

THE SWEETEST SHIT IVE EVER READ 😭

Hello!!! Could I request a heavily pregnant reader x In-ho? When In-ho didn't tell reader that he would be joining the games and left while she was sleeping and she threw a tantrum about it because she misses him and his scent and the guards try to signal him about it but he failed to notice. So when she saw him again she won't let him go. I need more sfw with this man please 🙏

-thank you so much🫶

Fall To Pieces

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: fall to pieces by avril lavigne

note: thanks for your request! hope this did your idea justice!

warnings: pregnancy, angst, fluff, mentions of violence

Your body ached as you slowly lowered yourself onto the soft leather loveseat, sitting next to your husband, Hwang In-ho. He had just arrived from the control room to your shared residence. The first game, Red Light, Green Light, was about to begin on the large screen in front of you.

You rubbed your pregnant belly as you relaxed into your seat, feeling like you could burst at any moment. After 8 months of carrying your first child together, you were ready for it to be over with. And it didn’t help that you had planned it so close to this year’s games. You wanted to have your baby right after the games ended to get the most out of your time together, but now you were completely anxious that you’d have the baby early and have to have it on the island. All you wanted to do was nest and be comfortable in your own home.

In-ho gave you a loving look. “How are you feeling, darling?” He reached his hand to yours on your stomach.

“Everything hurts. I’m tired. How long do we have to be here again?” you pouted.

“It won’t be too much longer, just a few days.” He reached his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.

You sighed. You wanted to lean into him and rest on his shoulder but nothing felt comfortable. “This baby is killing me, you know.”

He looked at your exhausted face, pleading for respite, before gently pushing you away to readjust. “I know, darling. Why don’t you lean against me here and I’ll try to make you feel a little better?”

He turned his body towards you, pulling you to his chest so you could lay on him as you both laid across the sofa. The warmth of his chest brought a little comfort to your aching back. You sighed as he began to knead your neck and shoulder muscles.

He rubbed your shoulders down to your arms, tightly squeezing every so often to relax your muscles and warm your skin. You melted into his touch, letting out a content sigh.

“You know what else would make me feel better?”

Your thoughts dazed in your mind as you relaxed and imagined the most delicious ice cream you could think of. You were quickly interrupted by In-ho.

“That ice cream you like?”

You smiled, eyes closed, leaning on In-ho. It was getting late and you were so exhausted these days. “Of course. I wish we had some right now.”

He lazily rubbed your hair. “I know, I’m sorry. Do you want anything else?”

You sighed, slowly sitting up. “No. I’m just going to go to bed. I can’t stay up for this.”

In-ho stood up and walked with you to your side of the bed, giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead as you laid down. 

You eyed him playfully. “What, are you going to tuck me in like a child now?” you teased.

He scoffed, looking away but laughing. “Just taking care of you, darling. Goodnight.”

You smiled, sinking further into your blanket, sleep already threatening to take over as In-ho turned out the light.

“Goodnight.”

~~~

The next morning you awoke to an empty bed. Not necessarily out of the ordinary, but you hated being apart from In-ho lately. With the baby coming, your duties had been severely limited, and you felt like you spent your days just waiting for In-ho to come back. 

You got ready for the day, but everything felt off. Normally, you’d hear In-ho and the others on the radio, especially with the games happening now. Except you didn’t hear In-ho once.

You got dressed. In-ho’s uniform was still in the closet.

You walked into the main room. In-ho’s mask was still on the side table. Along with a note.

“Go to the freezer.”

Anxiety stirred within you. Upon opening the freezer, you saw your favorite ice cream - along with another note. 

“I’m playing undercover. Staff knows. Don’t worry - be back soon.”

You were stunned, reading the note over and over as if your brain couldn’t absorb the information. You dropped the note and stormed into the main room, activating the display and selecting cameras. 

Multiple camera views appeared in front of you, and you scanned a sea of players and their numbers. After a few moments, you found Player 001.

In-ho.

Your In-ho.

Dread filled your body. You knew In-ho was keeping an eye on Gi-hun, but like this? How could he be so reckless? The guards would keep him safe, but still, you couldn’t help yourself from jumping to the worst possible outcomes. 

How could he leave you?

You collapsed onto the sofa, immediately crying. If you didn’t feel vulnerable enough before, you definitely did now. It felt like nothing was going to happen according to plan now - you’d have your baby early, and have it on the island instead of comfortably near home, and In-ho would die in the games just because he wanted to spite Gi-hun.

You hurled the remote to the screen, watching as it clattered on the floor. Frustration started to take over. In-ho had no right to abandon you at such an important time.

You snatched your radio from the table. “Officer.”

A brief moment of silence, then, “Yes, Captain.”

“Come here. Now.”

You waited a few minutes, distraught in silence. When the Officer appeared before you, you glared at him.

“Get him out now.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can. Now do it.”

“He said only to take him out if it’s an emergency.”

You scoffed. “Tell him it’s an emergency then.”

He shifted uneasily. “I can’t go against orders.”

Your eyes bore through the officer’s mask as you contemplated what to do. In-ho would be two steps ahead of you no matter what you tried to do. There was no getting him back.

At least through the Officer.

You sighed in frustration, looking away. “Get out.”

The Officer promptly walked away. Once the elevator doors closed, you let yourself cry again. You just couldn’t believe you were being put in this position. All you wanted was to go home with In-ho, but instead you felt abandoned by everyone at the worst possible time. You were used to working alongside In-ho and having just as much of a voice as he does, but now you felt like everyone just saw you as his pregnant wife.

You turned off the screen and walked back to bed, your back aching intensely, taking a nap and hoping In-ho would miraculously be there when you woke up.

~~~

Of course, he wasn’t.

You watched the screen throughout the day, observing how In-ho slowly infiltrated Gi-hun’s group. Jealousy wracked your body - how did they deserve to be with In-ho more than you? It was clear why In-ho stepped in but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking irrationally. 

That night, you cried yourself to sleep, knowing he wouldn’t be there when you woke up. Even though he would sometimes go to bed after you, at least he was still with you through the night. Your only consolation was to pull up a camera view on your tablet so you could watch him as you tried to get comfortable in the cold, lonely bed.

The next day, you watched In-ho and the players go through the six-legged pentathlon. In-ho looked like he was even enjoying himself for a few moments. Obviously he needed to fit in, but did he really have to be so brazen about it, knowing you were watching?

You tried so hard to stay calm, knowing stress would be the worst for your baby right now. But occasionally you’d feel a little kick, especially when you were watching In-ho, and your maternal instincts couldn’t help but take over. You had to come up with a plan to get a message to him.

After the game was over, you wandered over to the guard’s quarters, being sure to avoid the Officer. Before the guards turned in for the night, you pulled one aside.

“You need to tell him to come back.”

The guard froze in place, clearly glancing at your stomach. None of the guards had seen you since you started showing. 

You squeezed his arm tighter. “When he goes to the bathroom, pull him aside and bring him back.”

“I- I don’t know who w-will be there when-”

“I don’t care who it is, make sure it happens.”

You quickly walked away, not wanting to draw attention to anyone nearby or looking on the cameras. 

Once you arrived back home, you sat on the couch and attempted to get comfortable. You planned on watching the cameras all night until you could see In-ho leave and the guards bring him back. You didn’t want to focus on anything else, even though your body ached with pain and sorrow.

Inevitably, after a while, you couldn’t fight your body anymore and you fell asleep. You slept for another few hours before being woken up by a commotion on the screen.

“-with me this way.” 

You saw In-ho talking to a pink guard. “Why? Isn’t the bathroom this way?”

The guard paused, clearly trying to come up with something. “No? This way. Let’s go.”

In-ho scoffed, and you saw a couple other players approach behind him. “What are you talking about?”

The guard noticed the other players joining, clearly ruining his plan now. He sighed. “My apologies. This way.”

In-ho eyed the guard as they walked the correct way towards the bathrooms now. He glanced at a camera nearby, unknowingly looking right at you. His expression was indecipherable.

Your heart ached, and you felt a kick in your stomach. In-ho looked away and proceeded as normal. Your plan had failed.

~~~

The next day you watched as In-ho played through Mingle. You wondered what he was thinking in these types of moments - did he care for the people around him, or just see them as nothing more than pawns, even though he was getting to know them personally? It felt crazy to question it, but you couldn’t stop your mind from wondering if he thought of you, or if he wondered how you were doing.

Terrible, you’d tell him. Awful without him.

After the game, you set up another attempt to contact In-ho, slipping a note into his gimbap and instructing the guards to give In-ho that specific one. You went back home to watch your plan unfold again, hopefully successfully this time. You cheered internally when they gave him the correct gimbap, and patiently waited for him to reach the note. 

Unfortunately with tensions rising amongst the players, In-ho was distracted and never even finished the gimbap enough to reach the note. You covered your face in frustration. There was never a time you’d seen In-ho not finish his food. It was as if he was deliberately foiling your plans. 

The situation was becoming worse and worse. The more time passed, the more anxiety you felt that you could give birth without In-ho there. And even more importantly, the more the players became violent towards each other. How far could the guards really go to protect In-ho? Another player could definitely harm him before any guards stood a chance at protecting him.

As you expected, a fight broke out that night. In-ho was safely tucked away under a bed, but things were escalating fast. Your heart raced. It was becoming too much too quickly, and you couldn’t help but scream orders over the radio. “Why is this still going on?! End it now!”

“Suppress,” the officer spoke over the radio. Guards immediately went into the room to stop the fighting, and luckily In-ho was unscathed. As the guards were checking the dead bodies, some of the players suddenly snatched their guns and began shooting. You watched in horror as several players began killing the guards, In-ho even joining them.

Once the guards were gone, you saw an organized effort to gather all guns and ammo and begin a drive towards the control room. In-ho was still with them. You were worried sick for him but hoped this was finally his chance to come back. Several voices spoke over each other in a frenzy on the radio as guards mobilized against the players. All you could do was watch helplessly as you saw In-ho deliberately put himself in danger. 

His recklessness was going to give you a heart attack. 

You screamed through the radio, “If anyone even gets close to hitting him, even so much as a graze, I will kill you myself.” You scanned through the surveillance cameras and watched as In-ho and the players moved towards the control room, one by one running out of ammo. In-ho strategically navigated two players into the back hallways, coming up behind Gi-hun and Jung-bae. For a moment, In-ho looked into the camera.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew he was finally coming home.

You watched as In-ho finally turned on the group, losing the Young-il persona. It was almost as if he was enjoying it. After killing the two players with him, he grabbed his radio. “Start wrapping things up,” he ordered, before looking up at the camera again. 

“Lockdown all residences.”

Before you could even process what he said, you heard the elevator doors lock, a red light illuminating above it. Your only way in or out. He had locked you in. 

Fuming, you called out on the radio. “What are you doing?”

In-ho responded calmly. “Keeping you safe.”

“Am I that helpless to you?” you spat. You were, in fact, feeling that helpless, but you’d never let it be known.

In-ho ignored you, which made you even more mad. You shut off your radio, turned off the screen, and stormed into your bedroom. If he was going to play with your emotions like this, you had no need to rush to him anyways. He could find you when he felt like it.

You curled up in bed crying, pulling the blankets to your chin and mindlessly rubbing your belly to soothe yourself. You were exhausted but couldn’t bear to fall asleep then. In your distress, you didn’t even hear the elevator door open, or footsteps approaching from the hallway, or your bedroom door opening.

“Darling.”

You quickly turned your head towards In-ho, your face swollen from crying. As soon as you saw him, all of your anger and frustration melted away into relief.

Your lip trembled, tears flowing even more now as you slowly sat up in bed. “In-ho…”

He rushed to your side and embraced you, cradling your head in his hand and rubbing your back with the other. You clung to him desperately, sobbing into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

You wanted to yell at him, shove him away from you, hit him, but you couldn’t manage anything except breaking down in his arms. 

“My poor darling. Are you alright?” He pulled away to get a good look at you.

Shocked, you glared at him through blurry eyes. “Of course I’m not okay, how could you ask me that?” You finally had the wherewithal to shove his shoulder. “How could you abandon me like that? What if the baby came, hm? What if someone killed you?!”

You were becoming frantic. In-ho embraced you again, trying desperately to calm you down. “Shh, darling, it’s alright now. Everything’s okay.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, weeping. “Don’t ever do that to me ever… ever again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

You sighed. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

He kissed the top of your head and helped you stand up. “I know. I won’t.” He wiped your face before giving you a long kiss. “I missed you, you know.”

You rolled your eyes. “Didn’t seem like it,” you said before shoving him again. “Did you make some new friends?”

He smiled at your sarcasm and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you back to the main room and helping you to sit on the couch.

“One more thing.”

He ran to the kitchen before rushing back with your ice cream. “You didn’t eat any of it?”

You scoffed. “How could I? You left me inconsolable for days.”

He sat next to you with your favorite treat. “I wanted you to feel a little better,” he pouted, looking almost dejectedly at you.

You laughed and leaned on his shoulder. “This wouldn’t have helped anyways. I just wanted you.” 

In-ho kissed the top of your head before wrapping his arms around you. He’d missed you so much during his time away, no matter how necessary it was.

“I know. I love you. Let’s go home soon, okay?”

fly me to the moon

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, he's in his late 40s) angst, slight masochism, made him very fatherly again, mutual obsession, badly written smut, conflicting feelings, she's kinda crazy about him, brat reader, brat tamer inho, unhealthy dynamics, slight infantilization

summary: you're desperate to piss him off. it doesn't end well.

(part 3 the dusk till dawn series)

word count: 4.2k

FULL SERIES MASTERLIST

the ankle monitor attached to your leg itches.

you grunt in irritation as you use a spoon to scratch the area. it barely helps— you know the itching is more mental than it is physical. the mere presence of it bothers you. but at the same time, you're relieved. you were given two options— either that, or still having your hand chained to the bed with those insufferable straps. you chose the former. atleast it allows you to walk freely.

you're still not used to this lifestyle. honestly speaking, you've lost track of how long it's been. you mainly tried to count the days based upon the games, but inho doesn't allow you to witness the brutality of the newer games he's designed. he never even mentions them— pretends like it was all a dream and that everything between the two of you is okay. you pretend you don't almost piss yourself whenever his voice switches mid conversation— or when he puts on that mask and grabs his gun before leaving.

while it irritates you, a part of you is almost grateful. atleast this way, you can pretend you don't know exactly how sadistic he can be.

you almost snort at your thinking. you feel pathetic— but then again, do you have a choice?

he's given you free reign of his lavish penthouse— conveniently keeping any and all electronics or sharp objects away from you. which, you need to clap him on the back for. because the first thing you did when you were left alone and uncuffed was look for anything that you could use to hurt yourself— to touch an empathetic nerve in inho. your confidence in thinking of doing so was because he's made it clear how much the idea of losing you scared him. you tried to joke with him the other day— something about him coming back to find you bleeding out on the floor, and he got so furious that he threw his bottle of whiskey against the wall and then gave you an earful about making distasteful jokes. you almost considered running over and grabbing a glass shard and killing yourself in front of him to truly traumatize him like he did with you; but then the thought of your family and your dignity stops you.

you will not kill yourself over a man.

you've thought of many jokes since then, but never dared mention them in his presence.

currently, you were frolicking around— eyeing the massive screen on which he apparently watches the games. you'd insisted upon it once— and he'd pulled you into his lap and allowed you a single glimpse before hiding your face in the crook of his neck and patting your back till you fell asleep to the sound of 'fly me to the moon.'

your eyes narrow. you look around, desperate to find something. there's an itch within you that you need to scratch—it's different than your ankle. it's the itch to be insufferable, to take a sweet little revenge against your old man; to frustrate him and ruin his day like he ruined your life. you can only hope that if you succeed in doing so, he won't kill your entire family in a fit of rage. you've been forcing your heart to believe he's only bluffing, even though you know he isn't.

your eyes fall upon the side table placed by the couch. you look at it, then at the screen. then back at it. with a newfound vigour, you rush forward and pull out the drawer— it's empty except for a few files. you toss them out and hold the drawer in both hands, before looking back at the screen with the most devilish glint in your eyes.

you let out a victorious roar before lunging— using all the strength you can muster and then thrashing the drawer against the screen.

it doesn't budge. the blow has you stumbling over your steps, and the drawer falls upon your feet. you let out a cry, tears of frustration appearing in your eyes. you scream and pick up the drawer again, and then thrash it against the screen over and over— till your hands hurt and sweat builds across your skin.

the screen remains spotless.

amidst your one sided battle, you fail to hear the sound of the door opening.

"it's shatterproof." a heavy voice announces, distorted through the mask.

panting, you drop the drawer and shoot him the meanest glare you can muster with mascara running down your cheeks. he cocks his head to the side— the barrier of the mask between you two making you feel uneasy.

"are you done acting like a child?"

you release a heavy, shaky breath as you stare at him. you want to jump at him, tear that mask off and slam his head against the wall. you want to kiss him and beg him to spare you and your family. your heart races with adrenaline— and your skin feels hot. acting like a child, he says. he's treated you like a child forever. what's so wrong in acting like one?

you slick your hair back, eyes darting around the room— examining everything you can see, till an idea pops in your head.

against your better judgement, you pick up the drawer again. slowly, like a predator, you walk to the side, your gaze never leaving his figure. you stand before his music box— the one with the pretty jazz band that plays 'fly me to the moon,' whenever he watches the games. you've heard it quite a few times since you got here, and you have buried your head in the pillows a few times to avoid hearing it.

you used to adore frank sinatra, but now you can only associate his lyrics with impending doom.

you wish he wasn't wearing that mask, because you would've loved to see his reaction when you ruined something he visibly finds comfort in. you would've felt bad, if he hadn't done the same to you. if he hadn't taken your young-il from you.

you raise the drawer, and then bring it down fiercely. it almost happens in slow motion— how the music box shatters into pieces, and the tiny dolls fall to the floor.

you pant as you drop the drawer then, and wipe the sweat off your forehead. suddenly feeling brave, you shoot him the most smug smile you can muster in your breathless haze.

the silence that follows is suffocating. you blink at him, shoulders rising and falling with your heavy breaths — while he stands there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back.

"are you gonna keep standing there, watching me?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

you resist the urge to step back as he advances towards you ever so slowly. he looks at his broken music box, then redirects his blank, masked face back at you.

you egged him on, "aren't you gonna say something?"

"was this supposed to anger me?" he asks. you can detect a hint of amusement in his voice, "a man in my position doesn't have materialistic attachments."

you scoff, vision almost turning red with rage at his tone.

"i think i can afford another music box," he adds dryly, cocking his head to the side, "but what do i do about your manners?"

your eyes narrow with agitation— you were so desperate to piss him off, to evoke an actual reaction out of him; but he isn't giving you one. it frustrates you. before you can do anything, his foot pops out, hits your leg in just the right place to make you shriek and drop to your knees immediately— till the shattered pieces of the box dig into your skin painfully— wood and glass.

"fuck!" you wince, letting out another pained groan. he watches you blankly, and in this moment you wish that mask would just disappear. it makes him look more like a stranger than he already is. you want to see his reaction, even if it is at the expense of your pain. "you— ow! you asshole—"

"language." he chides, bending down slightly so he can grab your hair and yank your head up. you squirm around, trying to get up but he holds you in place, "why must you keep acting like a child—"

"why, i thought i was a child!" you snap back at him angrily, recalling his words from when he refused to send you back into the games. you're furious, "why shouldn't i act like one if you keep treating me that way!"

"do you not want me to?" he asks, giving you a humourless chuckle, "you want me to treat you like the adult you are, huh, darling? i'll treat you like an adult."

you grumble in confusion and he gives your head a little push as he lets go of your hair and straightens up. his hand comes down to shift his robe to the side so he can have access to his dress pants. he pulls it down slightly along with his boxers, revealing how hard he's been by your little show of defiance. your eyes widen and you almost choke on your spit as he grabs your head again, his free hand guiding his cock to your eager mouth, "fuck— is this what you wanted?" he groans, throwing his head back slightly as you wrap your lips around him with the enthusiasm of a slut. he's so unbelievably thick— and all your knowledge for sucking dick comes from porn, so you try your best— forgetting almost every vengeful thought as the skin of his neck is exposed to your vision.

you have never wanted a man this badly.

small cuts on the skin of your knees open up because of the damage you caused, but you can't bring yourself to think about it— not when you lick a long, wet stripe on the underside of his cock, before placing a teasing kiss upon his tip. he looks down at you again, his gloved hand digging into your hair, guiding your head up and down as you try to take him fully into your mouth. your hands come up in an attempt to hold what your mouth can't, but he slaps them away, "put those behind your back."

this time, you obey. your eyes water as he immediately pushes himself to the hilt till your nose presses against the coarse hair at his pubic bone— and only then you know that you are truly gone, because you moan at the smell of him. he lets out a soft grunt again when he pulls your head back, before thrusting in and out of your mouth gently. your hands stay clasped behind your back as he uses your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin as your watery eyes look up at him. you wish you could see him— you want to see his face, you want to see what he looks like when he cums in your mouth for the first time.

you whimper, pulling your head back slightly. he allows you, and you lean down to press a needy kiss to his balls before licking up his cock again. your voice is hoarse when you speak, "let me see your face."

he looks at you for a bit— the stoic face of the mask making you feel more and more isolated— like you're pleasuring someone else. and perhaps, you are, in a way. this isn't your young-il anymore.

"after that little stunt," he answers quietly, voice grim, "you don't deserve it."

you almost whine as he grabs your head again and forces his cock back down your throat— and then you realize what this is. what you thought started as some sort of reward is actually a punishment. you whimper as you gag around him, choking with each sharp thrust as his movements begin to get harsher. tears run down your face as you glare at him, and in retaliation you bring your hand up and grab his thigh. he hisses at being disobeyed, pulls your head forward till you nose is quite literally pressed against his stomach. "hands. behind your back."

despite struggling to breathe, you shake your head as best as you can given the situation. you can't see his face, but you can tell the exact expression he must be making. the one where his eyes get all intense, and his lips start quivering with rage, as if he wants to explode.

you moan slightly and take the opportunity to pull your head back. and then get back to sucking his cock— your tongue rolling deliciously across his shaft as you cup his balls. it almost makes him stumble with shock— the sudden pleasure he feels, judging by the throaty moan that escapes him. motivated by his newfound weakness, you jerk him off while mouthing at the soft skin of his balls, and he almost bends down as he lets out a raspy groan, "fuck! that feels— fuck!"

"language," you tease slightly, voice raspy. you enthusiastically indulge him, your brain suddenly consisting of him, and only him. his voice. his face. his moans. the way his eyes crinkle. you switch from sucking his balls to kissing his tip and jerking him off.

as if to reward you, he suddenly pulls his mask off, one hand of his going up to hold onto the wall for support. he squeezes his eyes shut, and the mere sight of his face has you crumbling— you let out a soft moan as you take him down your throat again. one of your hands slips into your panties, and you start rubbing your clit with vigour as he fucks your throat.

"you little fucking brat—" he grunts, thrusting shallowly in and out of your mouth, the vein in his neck popping and a few strands of his styled hair falling beautifully down his forehead. he's hot when he swears, you think— starry eyed as you look at him. you've never seen a more angelic sight. as you gurgle around his cock, he holds your head down again and throws his head back, cumming with a loud gasp. you cum with a choked moan of your own, your hand shaking as you rub circles into your clit, overstimulating yourself.

you choke as you feel him spill down your throat, and he pants heavily as he slowly pulls himself back, before quickly tucking himself into his pants. you swallow it and cough slightly, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as you wince a little— it leaves a bitter and sticky aftertaste, but nothing too bad. you're sure you'll get used to it. he grabs your wrist and bends down to stick your wet fingers in his mouth, licking your slick off. his tongue rolls around the digits and you moan, eyes dazed as he ensures your entire palm is clean, before pulling back while smacking his lips and humming in appreciation like you were the most prized delicacy in the world.

as if nothing happened, he swiftly picks you up like you're a mere doll— carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. your hair— damp with sweat, sticks to your skin, and your eyes are bloodshot.

and though you can remember your original intention being wanting to take revenge, this somehow felt much more better.

perhaps, you really are too far gone.

you look off into space thoughtfully as he settles you on the bathroom counter. his face is uncovered but guarded— he takes his gloves off, grabs a towel and wets it with water before tending to you. with utmost gentleness, he pulls your bottoms down and tosses them in the basket, before analyzing your wounds.

your panties are so wet it's almost shameful. you got that horny just by sucking his cock. he glances at your face, and you look away sheepishly. the smell of you makes his head spin, but he needs to concentrate on something else. you clear your throat and redirect your attention to his face.

you stare at him while he stares at your knees. he gently wipes the blood off, ensuring no remaining pieces of the music box stick to your skin. he disinfects your wounds and it makes you hiss— he almost winces at the sound, but you're not sure.

you don't understand why he's doing this. how can he hurt you and tend to your wounds at the same time? but then again, how can you hate him and let him do this to you at the same time too?

perhaps, you both are confused. you need someone to rely on, and he needs someone to need him. but neither of you know how to deal with the complications that come with your unconventional relationship, so you pretend it's normal. it's okay.

you look at him but he doesn't meet your gaze. you wish you could go back in time, or travel to another dimension. meet him under different circumstances. perhaps, that relationship would've been healthy. you clear your throat, and change the subject.

"you know, back in the hall," it hurts a little to talk, but you want to hear his voice, and you're desperate to talk about something. anything to end this silence. "before i was leaving to come to you, the old lady said something funny."

he stiffens at the mention of her, and you pretend not to notice. he doesn't glance at you as he cleans your knees, before placing a comforting palm on your thigh. he hums in question, gaze lowered.

"she called you my father," you chuckle slightly, your voice suddenly getting shaky, "isn't that funny? such a funny thing to assume."

he tenses at your words and clenches his jaw. his thumb rubs circles onto the skin of your thigh, before he lets out a small chuckle of his own— it sounds dry. he finally looks up at you— and you almost see a glimpse of your young-il in his eyes. you think he looks upset. you wonder if you offended him, and you consider apologizing, but he interrupts your train of thought.

"really?" he asks quietly, giving you a small smile. it's odd, engaging in casual conversation with him after the little fight you two just had. "well, with how many times i looked after you—"

"—you might as well be," you finish his sentence with a roll of your eyes, "yeah, i know."

he gives a soft, hearty laugh then, tapping your knee. "yeah." he trails off, voice getting quieter. distant. "might as well be."

his mind drifts off. if he hadn't been so late, his kid would've been around your age. perhaps, that's why he immediately grew protective of you during the games. perhaps, it was fate.

your gaze softens, face falling slightly. he looks distant again— like he's fighting a war within himself. you swallow the lump in your throat.

"i saw you that way at first, you know." you said quietly, blinking down at your lap. "you made me feel safe." and now all i feel is fear around you.

he looks at you wordlessly, gaze unreadable. he's thinking— reading you, but you can't do the same with him. he has way more experience at hiding his thoughts and expressions than you do. he's spent decades confined within these walls with people in masks being his only companions— he learned how to wear one himself. permanently. he wants to tell you that you're an open book to him— since the start.

"do i not anymore?" he questions instead, cocking his head to side. you roll your eyes, shoulders slumping as you shoot him an impassive glare.

"seriously?" you ask, voice obvious. it makes him smirk slightly, and he clenches his jaw to hide it.

he cups your face, pulls it up as he looks into your eyes. you don't say a word, simply glaring at him as he places a kiss upon your forehead.

"let me tell you," he quirks an eyebrow— a hint of a smile on his face as he squishes your cheeks, "no kid of mine would be a brat."

you scoff, pushing his hands off as you look away from him. he looks unbothered as he grabs you and puts you back down on the floor.

"i can do that myself, thanks." you huff, straightening your shoulders as you brush past him.

he grabs your hand, pulls you back towards him till you collide into his chest. he cups the side of your face, gently leaning down to rub your noses together. it almost leaves you breathless with how flustered you feel.

"would you rather i give you the silent treatment again?" his voice is unabashedly soft as he speaks. "you didn't like that last time."

your breath hitches, and your heart begins to race again. you clench your jaw before closing your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. you remember collapsing in his arms and crying your heart out when he gave you the silent treatment— being ignored by him hurt and made you feel alone in a way you hadn't felt in years.

you shake your head no.

he smiles. it's almost sinister. his eyes are still crinkly and he would look so utterly adorable to you before— but now, you know his intentions. you can tell when he's smiling only because he's hiding a different approach.

"then you'll behave, won't you?" he whispers, placing a soft kiss upon your lips. you blink rapidly before nodding again.

"good," he says quietly, softly tapping your cheek before letting go and composing himself. "i'll clean that mess up. go back to bed and take a nap, you must be tired after that little show."

you grit your teeth before shooting him a glare, and he merely blinks at you, amused, before you rush back to the bedroom.

he follows not long after, wearing only a black undershirt and his pants. you stare at him as he gently places a tray on your bedside table. you sit up, looking at it curiously. it's a cup of tea.

"for your throat," he explains softly with a pat to your head. the gesture makes your heart feel warm— and once again you start wishing you had met him under different circumstances where he didn't practically kidnap you. that way, your guilty conscience wouldn't berate you for desiring him so much, for being so comfortable around him.

he stands by his own side of the bed, fiddling with his wristwatch. you sit up properly and blow on the tea before drinking it, humming in appreciation. it's your favourite beverage.

he gets into bed soon enough, sighing to himself. you place the empty cup on the table and look off to the side, not wanting to meet his gaze, no matter how good he looks.

he says your name softly and you melt.

you look at him and he tenderly caresses your face with the back of his hand. you wish you could read his thoughts.

you swallow your pride and say what you've been thinking.

"why did you never apologize to me?"

his gaze hardens slightly and his hand pauses. you swallow hard as you await his answer.

"because i'm not sorry," he says calmly, "I don't regret anything i did."

you clench your jaw, "not even hurting me or my feelings?"

he chuckles a little— amused at your naivety, "I don't regret doing anything that brought you to me."

you blink at him before looking away. he forces you to meet his gaze by grabbing your chin.

"i don't regret anything," he repeats lowly, eyes intense. "as long as i get to have you."

"you hurt me." you whisper, voice cracking.

"i know." he nods, "you'll get over it. you're my brave girl, aren't you?"

you grit your teeth so hard you fear your jaw might snap. you glare at him, while he looks at you indifferently. wordlessly, he opens his arms and welcomes you into the comforting little space he created. you consider running off, defying him, breaking the tea cup and using the glass to threaten him or just killing yourself— anything.

bur you don't. like always, you succumb to him, and give up control. you eagerly crawl into his side and he holds your head against his chest. he pulls the sheets over the two of you and pecks your forehead.

"still don't feel safe?" he asks, almost teasingly. you can't believe he keeps trying to joke with you— he's cruel. you scoff, giving him a weak shove and he grabs your wrist and holds your palm against his chest. you can feel his heart beating. you wonder if yours beats this loud too.

you get comfortable a few moments after, and force yourself not to think about your life before the games. before him. you wonder if your family is happy, if they're wondering where you are. you wonder if your mother thinks you're dead, you wonder if she still prays for you. even if your family thinks you're dead, you hope they find happiness and move on from the thought of you. you hope they live a life of ease.

the thoughts make you sniffle and you hold back the urge to cry, burying your head further into his chest. he hums softly, patting your head almost paternally till you fall asleep, and only when he is completely sure that you're out of it, that he allows himself to close his eyes too.

and the next day, the cycle repeats.

A/N: another song title because i have no creativity... anyway this was meant to be a blurb but i ended up writing a glimpse into their relationship because i love them so much. and well.. the smut is mid but i hope you guys enjoyed it. thank you for reading and thank you for the support!! i love all of you.

tags: @bonelessghoul @cowuies @auspicious-lilana @politicstanner @verouys @gloriousjellyfisharcade @carolinevoight @shadowmoonlight0604 @ancrygurl @sunoon @jessgentleman @colorwastaken @loversroq @clown-around-and-find-out @popcorm @xcinnamonmalfoyx @robertthehoover @iloveoldermen0204 @kpopsmutty69 @iamkali @thebluehair23