◟warnings — dom!sang-woo ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ unprotected p in v ⋆ MDNI 18+
it’s late. the lighting in shitty motel room is dim, the neon glow from the sign outside bleeding through the dusty curtains. the air reeks with the smell of sex, sweat, stale cigarettes and cheap detergent. CHO SANG-WOO has you on your stomach, one big, calloused hand splayed between your shoulder blades, keeping you pressed into the mattress. he’s slow tonight. not in a teasing manner—he’s never been that type of man—but to relish the way you clench around him with every measured thrust.
“shh,” he murmurs when you whimper, his hand sliding up to the nape of your neck. he squeezes gently, thumb brushing over your pulse. “keep quiet for me.”
he’s not being mean about it. if anything, his voice is soft, damn near affectionate. but there’s an edge, a quiet authority that makes your stomach flip. he leans in, his chest pressing to your back, lips brushing over the cartilage of your ear.
“the walls are thin. don’t wanna wake anyone, do we?”
you shake your head, but it’s hard to focus when he’s buried so deep inside you, rolling his hips slow and steady, dragging every inch of himself along your walls. he’s so fucking deep it’s making you dizzy. his free hand slides under your body, fingertips tracing the curve of your stomach before dipping between your legs. the touch is gentle, a contrast to the firm grip still holding you down.
“fuck,” he exhales, voice rough, strained. “you feel that?” he presses his palm against your stomach, right over where he’s stretching you open. “so full, huh? taking me so well.”his pace stutters then, something raw breaking through his control. he groans into your skin, lips trailing down your neck, sucking a mark into your shoulder.
“gonna come for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, coaxing, but there’s a quiet demand underneath the sweetness. “be good and give it to me.”
and when you do—when you shudder beneath him, nails digging into the sheets, walls fluttering around him—he exhales sharply, thrusts turning rougher, more erratic. his hand clamps over your mouth just as he groans against your shoulder, hips grinding deep, burying himself to the hilt as he comes inside you. his breath is hot against your skin, and he stays like that for a moment, pressed against you, cock still nestled deep. then, finally, he exhales, smoothing a hand over your back, thumb rubbing slow circles against your spine.
“good girl,” he mutters, kissing the nape of your neck before pulling the blanket over the both of you.
pairing: perv!sang-woo x fem!reader
summary: it's the ones you least expect that will pray on you.
warnings: implied but undescribed smut, manipulation, sexual coercion, perversion, dark themes, age gap (legal! reader in early 20s), naïve reader, father figure as a manipulation tactic.
word count: 0.9k
sang-woo sat on the edge of your bunk bed. he followed you back into the hall after the end of the first game, red light green light, without realising, so focussed on your little frame that trembled at every bark of the guards. even now he was towering over your little frame as he sat beside you. he settled into the silence between you. normally he enjoyed silence, but he didn’t want it with the pretty stranger he’d just taken an interest in.
but he didn’t take it personally. you’d each witnessed so many bullets pierce over half of the bodies you’d woken up in the hall with earlier this morning, so it wasn’t surprising that you weren’t feeling chipper.
he glanced down at your lap. your fidgeting hands were trembling, and he wondered if the blood on your skin was yours. he didn’t really care either way, but he wanted you to think he did. so he took your discarded jacket from under your lap and wiped your hands as clean as he could get them.
he didn’t want to stain his own jacket with the blood of strangers.
when he finished doting on you, he hooked your jacket over the side of the bed and only then did he notice the blood on his own hands. it certainly wasn’t his, so he quickly checked your head was still hung before wiping his palms on your jacket, too.
sang-woo then leaned back beside you.
“hey,” he said quietly, as if he didn’t care if you heard him.
you glanced up at him and his heart nearly split in two just like that. your pupils were blown wide, eyebrows knitted together with your bottom lip pouted out. “yes, mister?” he barely caught the squeak of your frightened little voice.
he didn’t fight the urge to scooch closer and wrap an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “it’s alright, it’s over now. you’re okay,” he cooed, heat rushing into your skin as he rubbed your arm comfortingly.
you immediately melted under his touch and clung onto his shirt, nestling impossibly closer. “i want to go home, sir. i want to see my mother,” you cried into his chest, and he held you tighter.
“you’ll see your mother soon.” he didn’t know why he promised you, only that he did. you relaxed into his touch further and he couldn’t help but add, “i’ve got you for now, til you get home to her safe.”
he worried why you pulled away from his embrace, but his nerves eased as you gazed into his eyes like he’d promised you the world. “really, sir? you’ll look after me?”
sang-woo swallowed the lump forming in his throat. he knew it was wrong, and he blinked and looked away to try to stop it, but all he could think about was you on your knees looking up at him like this. like your saviour. like your ticket out of this nightmare.
he steadied his breathing and glanced back at you. “i will,” he agreed, and wondered if you could sense the battle in his head. so he lied, and he didn’t know why, but he settled on easing any suspicion about his motives by telling you, “you remind me of my daughter.”
your eyes widened and you rested a hand on top of his. he looked down at your entwined fingers, his comically larger than yours.
“oh, sir,” you sighed sympathetically. “you must be really worried about her.”
sang woo nodded, a tight lipped smile forming to please your concern. “yes, i…” he sighed for effect, and continued. “i worry about her a lot,” he said, and glanced from your hands to your face. “if she were in these games, i’d want somebody to be looking out for her.”
the smile spread across your face slowly, lighting up your eyes and suddenly you were glowing. sang-woo thought you looked much more beautiful like this, like you weren’t traumatised.
“just like you’re looking out for me,” you finished his thought, squeezing his hands reassuringly, as if to say you’re such a good man.
but he wasn’t. sang-woo was anything but a good man. he knew it to be true because he didn’t even have a daughter, and if he did, he wouldn’t want her running into a man like him. a man who only wanted one thing.
sang-woo didn’t let himself dwell on what he was or wasn’t. he squeezed your hand and looked you in the eye, channeling all the warmth he could feign as he told you, “why don’t you share my bunk with me tonight? i worry what the men in the room might think to do to a young girl like you when it gets dark.”
if anyone else had said it, maybe you wouldn’t have agreed. maybe you wouldn’t have said, “that’s very kind of you, mister.” and maybe then you wouldn’t have been trapped under his body when the lights went out that night.
and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be walking funny when the lights came on in the morning.
in every girl’s life, there comes a day where she learns that men with honeyed words are the ones to trust the least. but not you. the sweet words roll off sang-woo’s tongue like a river, and you drank every drop he gave you.
and every night, when the lights went off, you followed him into his bunk and believed him when he told you he only wanted to keep you safe from the dirty men in the bunks around you. that he was only making sure no man got any sick ideas about you. that he was only slipping himself inside your hole to distract you from your worries of the next games.
that he was only looking after you, just like he’d hope another man would do for his daughter.
i would let this man manipulate me any day of the week with PLEASURE !!! like, comment, and reblog please. love <3
Summary: You had supported him through everything, but when you fell sick, he couldn't save you because of debt, so he participated in the games. The blood, the violence, it was all worth it because it was all for you, but he still couldn’t save you, even after winning.
Warnings: angst, illness, death, grief/loss, mentions of violence, guilt/sacrifice, emotional distress, Sang-woo won the games in this au, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!
Word count: ~ 1.9k
The first time you met Sang-woo, it was in the bustling hallways of Seoul National University, your books pressed against your chest as he nearly toppled over you in his haste. Apologies poured out of him, flustered but composed, but it was the soft smile that followed that made you pause. You didn’t know it then, but that clumsy encounter would change both of your lives forever.
From that moment, he had become everything to you. And soon enough, you realized you were everything to him too. Sang-woo was the kind of man who always seemed in control of himself. But with you, that cool demeanor softened. He would laugh more, touch your hand absentmindedly, watch you as if you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.
You supported each other through the tough years at university. His mind was brilliant—quick, sharp, and endlessly determined. It wasn’t hard to see why he was the pride of his family, the hope of his mother. He was going to do great things, you always believed that, and you reminded him every chance you got.
Sang-woo always spoke of a future where he’d be successful, where his mother would never have to work a day in her life again. And somewhere in that future—he said with a tentative smile—was you.
Years passed, and the challenges of adulthood crept in. Sang-woo’s ambitions, once so pure and noble, became entangled in desperation as he fell into debt. It started small—a few bad investments, a loan here and there, promises that he’d make it all back soon. But soon, the debts piled into something worse, a mess that loomed over both of your lives.
He had so much promise, so much potential, and you wanted to see him succeed. So when he started to falter—when the world wasn’t as kind, when the debts began to gather up, and his once-unshakable confidence began to fracture—you did what you thought any partner would do. You helped him.
You saw the way the guilt ate away at him. He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well.
“I’ll pay off this part for now,” you’d told him gently, holding the bank statement in your hand. He had stared at you, his expression tight, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.
“No,” he had said firmly. “You’ve done enough. I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”
But you didn’t care about that. You knew he felt ashamed, that his pride was bleeding, but you loved him too much to let him drown. “Sang-woo,” you whispered, reaching out to place your hand over his. “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I believe in you.”
He looked at you like you were his lifeline, the only light in his darkening world. He kissed your hand and said nothing more, but no matter how much you reassured him, the guilt lingered. He began to withdraw, the weight of his mistakes crushed him.
Then, as if the universe wasn’t cruel enough, you fell ill. It started with fatigue and a persistent ache in your chest. You brushed it off at first, telling yourself that it was just stress, but when the symptoms worsened, you finally went to the hospital.
The diagnosis was a gut punch. The doctors spoke in clinical terms, but all Sang-woo heard at the moment was that it was serious. You needed treatment, the treatment was possible, but expensive.
The hospital bills mounted quickly. You had always lived sparingly, but this was different. The treatment you needed was far beyond what either of you could afford, especially with Sang-woo already drowning in debt. You had tried to remain strong, tried to reassure him even when your body weakened and the days became harder to endure.
But Sang-woo wasn’t strong. At least not in the way you were. He didn't want to put up the pretense of having a "perfect" reputation anymore, he just wanted you.
One night, as you lay in your hospital bed, pale and shivering despite the blankets covering you, he dropped to his knees beside you. He gripped your hand so tightly it hurt, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.
“I’ll get the money,” he said, his voice trembling with determination. “I’ll find a way. I promise.”
You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the man you loved falling apart. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, guilt and desperation consuming him.
“Sang-woo,” you whispered, your heart breaking for him. For both of you. “I’ll be okay... don’t do anything reckless.”
But he shook his head, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to know so well. He pressed his lips to your forehead, a lingering, desperate kiss.
“I’ll come back,” he said. “With the money. Just hold on for me.”
You wanted to believe him, but as you watched him walk away, a part of you knew that he was heading down a dangerous path.
At first, you tried to think light. You thought he had simply left to clear his head. Maybe he was meeting someone to talk about loans or some other last-ditch effort to save you. But then the days turned into weeks, and Sang-woo didn’t return.
You tried calling him, but his phone went unanswered. You asked the nurses, his mother, even some of his old university friends, but no one had seen him. You didn’t know whether to be angry, scared, or heartbroken. All you knew was that he wasn’t here, and you were running out of time.
The nurses came and went, offering kind smiles and gentle reassurances, but it wasn’t enough. What you needed—what you wanted—was him, by your side.
You missed his voice, his laugh, the way he’d hold your hand and promise you that everything would be okay. You told yourself that he was out there fighting for you, but as the days stretched on, doubt began to creep in.
In your quieter moments, you wondered if he’d given up on you. If the burden had become too much and he just left without a trace. But deep down, you knew Sang-woo. You knew how much he loved you, how determined he could be. He’d find a way back to you. He had to.
In your final days, you thought about him often. You tried to convince yourself that he had a plan, that he would come rushing through the hospital doors at any moment with that look on his face, telling you everything was going to be okay, that you could heal properly now. But he didn’t.
Instead, you were left with an empty chair by your bedside, your heart aching with the absence of the man you loved more than anything in the world.
On the last night, you couldn’t fight the tears anymore. You whispered into the quiet room—“I just wish you were here.” Your voice cracked, and you closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over. You dreamed of him one last time—of the way he smiled when you first met, of his hand in yours, of the warmth that had once filled your life.
What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was what Sang-woo was enduring.
He had entered the games through a salesman with a suitcase and a card with a number on the back. The games were a deadly competition where the stakes were higher than anything he’d ever faced. Life and death were decided in brutal, messed up versions of childhood games.
At first, he told himself he was doing it for you, for the money that could save your life. But as the games progressed, as blood stained his hands and the faces of those he’d sacrificed haunted his dreams, the lines began to blur.
How much of himself was he willing to lose to save you?
Every decision, every betrayal he made, weighed on him. He thought of you constantly, your smile a light in the darkness. When he felt the weight of his actions crushing him, he clung to the hope that he could still save you. That he could win, come back to you, and make everything right, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how much pain he had to endure, it was all for you. Because how could he call himself a man—your man—if he couldn't even keep you by his side? If he couldn't even get the money to save you and have you in his arms again, healthy and full of life?
When Sang-woo finally emerged from the games, clutching the blood money that was counted from each of the lifeless bodies of the other players, he felt hollow. His actions, the lives he’d taken, the people he’d betrayed—all of it threatened to suffocate him. But he pushed it aside. None of it mattered now. All that mattered was you.
He rushed to the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. He imagined the look on your face when he walked through the door, how you’d smile and tell him that he’d always been your hero. And for the first time since the games, he smiled. He smiled.
But when he reached your room, he froze, and everything inside him seemed to shatter.
You were still, too still. Your chest didn't rise or fall, your lips were pale, and your eyes—those eyes he had loved so much—were closed forever.
The nurse had pity in her eyes as she approached him. "I'm sorry... she passed away a few hours prior. We... we tried calling you, but..."
“No,” he choked out, he staggered to your bedside, falling to his knees onto the mattress of the bed, his hands reaching for you. “No, no, no… please, no…”
He pulled you into his arms, cradling your lifeless body as tears streamed down his face. “Wake up,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, wake up. I have the money now. I did it. I got it for you. You can get better now. Please, just… open your eyes.”
But you didn't. You couldn't.
“I got the money,” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. “I have it. We can pay for your treatment now. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay…”
Sang-woo's hand trembled as he cupped your face. Your skin was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth he remembered. He pressed his forehead to yours, the card that contained all the prize money laid forgotten on the floor, a cruel reminder of what he had to sacrifice to save you—of the blood, the death, and the lives he had destroyed in those games. He had told himself it was all for you, that he could endure anything if it meant seeing you smile again. But now, as he held your cold body in his arms, he realized it had all been for nothing.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve stayed with you. I thought… I thought I could save you.”
He had done everything he could to save you, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. And now, he was left with nothing, because you had been his everything.
featuring: in-ho, sang-woo, dae-ho, jun-ho, thanos, namgyu, the salesman, myung-gi, and gyeong-seok
synopsis: it’s in the title! squid game characters and head… their preference in receiving / giving + some other related hcs
warnings: 18+, smut. oral (m & f!receiving). some slight mentions of overstimulation, dacryphilia, mouth fucking, somnophilia, exhibitionism, praising. not proofread.
i'm trying to get better at tagging my work so pls lmk if any of these are wrong or if i need to add any more 😭
a/n: yeah i had sm fun writing this… sorry if these are a little repetitive but i tried my best lol
also if you guys want any more hcs with lots of characters like this one, lmk!
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊
hwang in-ho
• preference: receiving. especially after a long day of work, in-ho wants you on your knees for him. he’ll walk into the penthouse, door slamming shut— and that’s your clue. he rarely slams the door. he sets his mask down on the table and you’re already on your knees, fumbling to undo the button of his pants.
• other times, while he watches the first game on his leather seat, he’ll have you draped over his lap, your mouth working lazily on him. his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a bit tighter when you do something he likes.
• that being said, he’s so good at giving too. in-ho doesn’t want you to feel used, so he usually always reciprocates. he always unravels you slowly. his kisses are teasing and on your inner thigh. when his tongue finally begins to work on you it’s slow and teasing, just so he can hear your soft whimpers and begs for him.
cho sang-woo
• preference: receiving. he still tries to be gentle with you in these moments, his fingers just barely touching your face to brush some hair out of your face. but sometimes he gets so lost in the moment, he might fuck up into you.
• sometimes when he’s working at home, he’ll have you crawl under his desk. he doesn’t find it too distracting, but sees it more as a stress reliever. but if he’s on a business call and you begin to tease him, best believe you’re getting punished afterwards.
• when he eats you out, he goes slow. he pays attention to every reaction, like he’s studying you. every hitch of your breath or subtle jerk of your hips. that’s exactly how he learns what you like so well.
kang dae-ho
• preference: giving. a munch!!! he gets messy with it and doesn’t even care. the type of guy who likes to give you head. not necessarily because you taste so sweet (which you do) but because he loves making you feel good.
• dae-ho will practically beg to be between your legs. he doesn’t mind if you’re just laying in bed, scrolling on your phone, while he eats you out. and he definitely likes it when you tug on his hair a little bit.
• dae-ho doesn’t really know what to do when you give him head. he feels bad pulling on your hair, so his hands will sort of be all over the place. he swears that it’s one of the best feelings in the world and will probably cum quickly.
hwang jun-ho
• preference: giving. lowkey might be the type to wake you up by eating you out (with your prior consent ofc!) he’ll crawl under the covers, lazily pushing your panties to one side, and kiss your core softly.
• absolutely loves it when you sit on his face. if you’re too scared to put weight on him, he’ll literally pull you down. he loves it when you grind on him and just use his mouth.
• when you give him head, he generally just lets you do your own thing. his fingers will tangle into your hair, but not to pull on it or guide you, just to play with it.
thanos (choi su-bong)
• preference: receiving. thanos loves having you give him head everywhere. in his car, in his dressing room, before going on stage, it really doesn’t matter.
• also definitely the type to film you sucking him off. he has a private album in his phone with 30+ videos of you sucking him off, doe eyes blinking up to the camera. he watches them when he’s on away on tour.
• also really likes it when you sit on him. he’ll grab your thighs and pull you down on top of him. he does still like to be in control, though, and might tease you a little bit. if you move to much, he’ll slap your ass. but honestly, if he dies between your thighs, he’s a happy man.
namgyu
• preference: receiving. namgyu can definitely be rough with you. he’ll pull on your hair, and sometimes hold your head down. he loves to see you choke on his cock and the slight run of your mascara when you do.
• he loves loves eye contact. if your eyes flicker down for just a moment, that’s when he tugs on your hair. to him, it’s the prettiest you’ve ever looked.
• like i said, namgyu can be rough, even when he’s eating you out. there’s no buildup, no teasing, no soft kisses. he just goes straight in. and he’s the type of guys to use both his tongue and fingers..
the salesman
• preference: receiving. he’ll come home from a long day of work, fingers already reaching to loosen his tie. once it’s undone, he’ll use it tie your wrists behind your back and then help you onto your knees.
• has so many toys and uses them on you. whether it’s a blindfold or handcuffs or literally anything else. if you’re blindfolded, he’ll help guide your head up and down, but after a while he really just wants to use your mouth.
• honestly? he probably rarely gives you head😭 and when he does, it’s almost torturous. he’s so skilled with his tongue, and he knows it too. he’ll either overstimulate you to the point where you’re trying to clamp your thighs shut around his head, in which he’ll hold them open with his hands, or will get you right to the edge and then walk away. (as long as you beg properly, he’ll probably come back though)
lee myung-gi
• preference: both. so that being said…
• when you suck him off, his mind practically goes blank. he leans his head back, eyes closing shut. he’s not generally very vocal during sex, but this might be one of the few times where you hear him moan.
• i just know he’s so good at giving head. he’s so calculated with his movements, first starting slow with soft kisses and licks to your core, before slowing inserting a finger in you and sucking on your clit.
gyeong-seok
• preference: giving. literally so sweet and gentle with you. he always starts slow, pressing kisses down your whole body.
• he usually always does what you want, whether you tug on his hair to let him know to keep doing what he’s doing, or breathe out a small “faster,” he always pays attention to what you want.
• when you give him head, gyeong-seok wants to make sure you never feel used. he’s always really gentle with you, cupping your face or playing with your hair gently. small praises slip from his lips like “you’re so good to me.”
