Birthday Sex
Oneshot! (Request)
Pairing: Dark!Inho x Birthday Girl Reader
Summary: Y/N is a player secretly taken into Inho's private chamber after he becomes dangerously obsessed with her. He claims he fell for her the moment he saw her and refuses to let her return to the games. On her birthday, he tries to celebrate with cake and balloons—only for her to demand he free her.
Warnings: Dark themes / morally grey behavior. Obsessive & possessive behavior.Pinning. Implied sexual content (non-graphic) Unhinged character behavior.Birthday theme in a dark context.
Author's Note: Happy Birthday, anon! I'm sorry if I'm late, I was just confused between different ideas 😭 Hope you'll like this one, I wrote it in a rush.
Word Count: 1,960
Tag list: Lemme know if you want to get tagged.
@salesmancarddd @marymun @astronomicalastro-blog1 @filthygalli @thehellhaveubeenloca @yosoylaprincesa2004 @watasinekoru @nightlark100 @drewstarkeysrightarm @doodle-with-rhy @lunaryoongie @ilovehwanginho @yxluana @sammie217 @sammat97 @alex-17s-world @mObi4girls @maah-sama @grylian @hecticspice @manager016 @mxriesss @christmascoles @nosebeers @carolinevoight @princesscherryblossom15 @frozen-waffle @eviesmoon @startled-cats @retiredpieceofshits @ft-winnow @weakh3rokdrama @bluechaoslizzy @frontwomann @cutecat2005 @starlightlunax @alex110370000 @wanna-plan-world-domination @akiyhara @natalie3657 @hornylittlesimp @lazybum0 @reneejkn @solarpotato @masked-protocol @lindsay00000
The private chamber was colder than the games outside — quiet, almost sacred, lit only by a single lamp that painted the walls in a warm, eerie glow.
Y/N had learned the pattern.
Nightfall → footsteps → the steel door unlocking → him.
Tonight was different.
When she heard the metallic shift of the lock, she crossed her arms tight across her chest, bracing herself.
The door opened.
Inho stepped inside — mask on, posture unreadable, but his hands held something she had never expected to see behind the walls of death.
A small cake.
Candles.
Several balloons tied with ribbon.
He set them down carefully on the table, the mask laying beside it.
“Happy birthday” he said quietly.
Her throat tightened.
It was twisted. It was… almost sweet.
And it terrified her.
“In-ho” she whispered, stepping back. “You have to stop this. Let me go. Please.”
He froze.
Not a physical freeze — something worse.
Stillness.
Silent, lethal stillness.
He turned his head toward her.
The single sharp of his jaw tilted, like a predator locking onto the sound of its prey.
“You want to leave?” he repeated, voice low.
“Yes” she snapped. “I don’t belong here. You can’t just keep me.”
The air changed.
It thickened. Pressed.
Like gravity buckling under something monstrous being pulled to the surface.
He took one step toward her.
Then another.
Y/N backed up until her spine hit the wall.
His voice dropped — soft, calm, terrifyingly calm.
“I bought you here because I saw you” he murmured.
“You moved differently than the others. You fought. You survived. And I—”
He lifted a gloved hand, touching her jaw with deliberate slowness.
“—wanted you.”
She swallowed hard, breath stuttering. “Inho… let me go.”
That was the moment.
The snap.
His hand tightened instantly on her jaw, not enough to hurt — enough to force her eyes up to him.
“No.”
The word wasn’t loud.
It was quiet — and that was the worst part.
“Do you know,” he whispered, “what it did to me… seeing you beg to leave? On your birthday?”
She gasped as he pressed closer, caging her in with his body, one hand gripping her wrist and pinning it hard beside her head.
“You should be thanking me” he hissed softly.
“Not fighting me. Not trying to run. Not talking about freedom like it’s something you still have.”
She struggled — and he slammed her other wrist above her head too, catching both with one hand.
“Stop.” she breathed. “Just stop—”
“No” he murmured, eyes burning.
“You want to fight? On your birthday?”
His breath grazed her neck.
“I will break every last piece of that stubbornness tonight.”
Her chest rose sharply. “You can’t do this—”
“Oh, I can.” His voice dropped to a sinful, dangerous whisper.
“And I will.”
He lowered his head, mouth brushing her throat, breath burning against her skin.
“You forgot who you’re dealing with,” he whispered.
“You forgot who owns this place. Who owns everything here.”
His free hand slid slowly down her side, deliberate, claiming, his touch leaving heat under her skin.
“And who owns you.”
She stiffened, breath caught. “I don’t belong to you—”
He slammed her wrists harder against the wall, making her gasp.
“You do.” he growled.
“And I’m done pretending otherwise.”
His breath brushed her cheek as he leaned closer.
“Look at me.”
She did — trembling — anger and fear and something else tangled in her chest.
That was when his tone changed.
The snap wasn’t just rage.
It was obsession.
“You think I bought a cake,” he whispered, “and balloons…”
His fingers slid to her chin, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to stare into his dark eyes.
“…for someone I’d ever let go?”
Her heartbeat hammered. “Inho—”
“No.” His voice broke, cracked with something raw and uncontrolled.
“You don’t understand what you do to me.”
He stepped closer until his chest was flush to hers, pinning her fully to the wall.
“I can’t stand the thought of you wanting anyone else. I can’t stand the idea of anyone else touching you. I can’t stand the idea of you walking out of this room and disappearing.”
His breath trembled — the first sign he was losing control.
“So you’re staying here,” he murmured, “with me. Tonight. Tomorrow. As long as I decide.”
She shook her head, tears burning in her eyes. “You’re insane.”
“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate. “For you.”
He freed her wrists — only to grab her by the waist and lift her off her feet, carrying her toward the table where the cake and candles sat.
“Now, I'll give you a gift,” he said softly.
“And you'll take it.”
He set her on the edge of the table, crowding between her legs, his hands gripping her hips with the kind of strength that left no room for argument.
“You cry so pretty when you’re scared,” he murmured. “And when you want me.”
Her breath hitched.
He leaned forward until his forehead touched her's.
“You want to leave?” His voice was a quiet, lethal whisper. “Then convince me.”
“I shouldn’t have to—”
His hand slid into her hair, gripping, pulling her head back so he could look directly into her eyes.
“You’re not leaving,” he murmured.
“Not tonight. Not when it’s your birthday.”
His thumb stroked her lower lip.
“Not when I haven’t even given you your real gift yet.”
She trembled. “Inho…”
“Say it.” He tilted her chin. “Say what you’re thinking.”
“I… don’t know.”
“You do.” He lowered his mouth to her cheek, voice thick with hunger. “You always do.”
He pressed closer. “You want me.”
Her breath caught.
“You want me,” he repeated, darker, rougher, “even when you’re scared. Even when you fight. Even now.”
Her silence was his answer.
His voice dropped to a sinful whisper.
“I should punish you for talking about leaving.” Her pulse spiked.
“Or…” his hand stroked her thigh slowly,
“…I can give you a birthday you’ll never forget.”
She shivered.
His mouth angled toward her ear.
“You won’t walk tomorrow,” he murmured.
“A pretty little reminder that you belong to me.”
Her breath broke.
“And if you’re good,” he added softly,
“I’ll even let you blow out the candles after.”
---
The candles flickered behind him as In-ho pushed her gently, firmly, back onto the table — not rough enough to hurt, but with the certainty of someone who had already made his decision about her.
“Lie back” he said, voice dipped in something sinful.
Y/N did, breath shaking.
His gloved hands slid along her thighs with unhurried possession, as if memorizing every inch of her, as if confirming she was real — here — his.
“You’re trembling,” he whispered.
“I’m not—”
He laughed, low and dark. “You are.”
His fingers traced her waist, her stomach, her ribs.
“All this fight, all this attitude… but look at you now.”
His body came over hers.
Strong. Controlled.
A wall of heat pinning her to the cold metal table.
“You want to be free,” he murmured, lips brushing her cheek.
“But your body knows exactly who it belongs to.”
Her breath caught as his hands tightened on her hips, drawing a gasp from her lips — not from pain, but from the sudden, overwhelming closeness.
He stilled.
That single sound snapped whatever restraint was left in him.
His breath broke, harsh and hungry.
“I’m losing my mind over you,” he whispered, voice cracking with the confession.
“You don’t even know what you do to me.”
His forehead pressed to hers.
“And now,” he whispered,
“I’m going to ruin you properly.”
When he finally pushes into you, he does it slow, letting you feel every inch, watching your expression with darkened eyes.
“Look at me” he breathes, cupping your cheek as he rolls his hips deeper. “I want to see every little reaction you try to hide.”
He praises you in a low, ruined voice —
“How perfect you are…”
“How good you take me…”
“How I can’t let anyone else have you…”
— words too sweet for the way he’s thrusting into you, steady and possessive.
“Good,” he murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. “That’s exactly how I want you.”
The room seemed to disappear.
The balloons.
The steel walls.
The cold.
Everything faded as he moved with a control that was almost worship, almost punishment — a rhythm that made her thighs shake around him.
His hands pinned her wrists again when she grabbed at him. His breath stuttered when she said his name.
The table creaked beneath them, soft metallic echoes swallowed by his low, ragged murmurs against her throat.
“You’re mine.”
A kiss to her neck.
“And you’re staying.”
Another hot whisper.
“Say it.”
“I—”
He pressed harder, voice breaking into a growl.
“Say. It.”
“I’m yours.”
His whole body shuddered — a tremor of relief, madness, victory.
“That’s my girl.”
The candles trembled.
Her breath hitched.
And In-ho lost himself in her, controlled only by how much he wanted her to fall apart under him.
And she did.
Again.
And again.
Until her legs were shaking violently and her voice broke into a soft, helpless sound he swallowed with his mouth.
Only when she was limp, breathless, and trembling did he finally stop.
His chest heaved against hers. His hands stayed on her thighs like he didn’t trust the universe not to take her away if he let go.
Slowly — carefully — he lifted her into his arms.
She was too weak to protest.
Her head fell to his shoulder, skin still hot and flushed as he carried her toward the bed in the corner.
He laid her down gently.
Almost reverently.
Her body shook.
Her breathing uneven.
He cupped her face with a gloved hand.
“Breathe,” he murmured, voice softened to something dangerously tender.
“You did so well…”
His face was flushed too — eyes dark, hair damp, lips slightly parted from the intensity he tried and failed to hide.
He sat beside her on the bed.
Then picked up the small birthday cake from the table, lit the candles again and returned to her, kneeling between her trembling legs.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered.
“You made me” she breathed.
His pupils dilated. “Yes.”
He picked up the tiny fork.
“And I’m not done.”
He touched the cool edge of the fork to her lower lip.
Her breath hitched.
“Open” he murmured.
She obeyed.
He fed her a piece of cake, watching every movement of her mouth with a hunger that bordered on reverent obsession.
“Sweet” he said quietly.
“But not as sweet as you were a few minutes ago.”
Her thighs fluttered involuntarily — a small, helpless reaction she couldn’t hide.
His jaw clenched.
He looked wrecked, undone, and still starving.
He set the fork down.
Brushed his fingers along her chin.
“Look at you…” he whispered.
“Birthday girl… shaking under me… still wanting more.”
She swallowed hard.
He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear.
“Tell me you’re not going anywhere,” he murmured.
“Tell me you’re staying in my room until I tell you to leave.”
His hand slipped around her waist, pulling her softly into his lap.
“And I’ll give you cake… kisses… anything you want.”
Her breath trembled.
She felt small under him — but not powerless.
Wanted.
Claimed.
Desired.
She whispered “…I’m staying.”
Something broke in him — not violent, but soft, desperate, grateful.
He cupped her face and kissed her forehead like it was an oath.
“Good,” he whispered.
“Because I’m nowhere near done celebrating you.”
