—summary: for some reason, player 001 seems to like you a little too much, way more than you think. amongst the chaos after the mingle game, he gets closer to you.
—pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader
—word count: 4.5k
—warnings: bro has a lot of names, +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, some porn with some plot, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, slight voyeurism? (a guard outside the bathroom listening all the tea💀), sub in-ho!!!, obsessive, possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, slight manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader, they want each others bodies so bad, panic attack, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.
writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!
ᯓ✶ part one ── part two
The first thing you saw were Young-il's eyes, and then you sensed his hands resting on your shoulders, a subtle touch but one that struck your entire core, sending shivers up and down your spine, snapping you out of the trance of shock, drawing you back to reality and back to him.
“Hey, hey, shhh...” he spoke softly, leaning close to you, making all you focused on was him, his voice, his eyes, the way his lips uttered your name. Him, him, him...
“Young-il?” you breathed out, matching your respiration to his ever-calm one.
He nodded his head slightly, his fingers stroking your shoulders soothingly. “You're okay. You did so good. It's over now” his soft whispers felt like an anchor back to earth, anchors you were clinging to with all your might.
“I got you” he assured you, helping you to your feet again. It was only then that you noticed that you were still in the room set of the third game, there was only you and him left in the arena, and the multitude of bodies sprawled around the bloodstained floor, of course. Noticing your gaze drift to the dead people, his hand lifted to your chin, standing right in front of you to block your field of vision and reduce it to just him, his serene face and piercing eyes, “Just look at me, angel. Keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah?”
He delicately pleaded you, his thumb tracing patterns of grazing caresses on the skin of your chin, treating you as carefully as possible.
And you complied, of course, succumbing to the gentle darkness contained within his eyes. Like a little lamb falling into the wolf's trap.
“There you are,” a little, honest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
A couple of guards were standing near you, watching you in silence and strangely, allowing Young-il to comfort and help you during your panic attack. The first one you had since you had arrived in the horrifying place, you hadn't cracked once, holding a tough and fearless armor.
“You are safe with me. Nothing will happen to you,” his other hand moved down from your shoulder through your arm, igniting a warm flush on your skin under the passage of his palm, all the way down to encounter yours, his fingers intertwining between yours. “I'll make sure of that, okay?”
You merely manage a trembling nod, holding his gaze. His reassuring, gentle demeanor was all you needed at that moment, in that strange place, full of strangers, he seemed to be the only familiar sight to you, the light among all the ruthless darkness. And his face, exuding concern, completely captured your heart.
Young-il offered you that one protector figure you always needed, that someone to rely on and trust even in your darkest moments.
“Come with me, please” one of the guards, the one with a square outlined on his mask, interrupted your moment, stepping up beside you, his gun pointed at the ground and not at either of you, thank goodness. His voice held a diplomatic, yet polite tone, glancing at the two of you. Young-il glanced at him with a scowl on his face, not too happy that the guard had popped onto the scene, apparently, his gaze went ice cold in the span of a millisecond, “Sir, miss, you need to go back to the main room with the other players.”
“The lady needs to freshen up a bit, could I accompany her to the bathrooms?” Young-il asked— no, rather, he actually demanded of the armed guard, his demeanor shifting to an authoritative one, straightening up and looking at the masked man with imposing eyes.
The guard looked from Young-il to you and back to him, finally nodding his head just once after a few seconds of contemplation, looking at him too long, nearly as if he was considering Young-il's expression, “Of course. Come with me, please.”
You did not decide to comment on the strange behavior of the guard, even they had been acting like human beings, empathetic and considerate. You really couldn't think of anything much at all, all you could focus on was Young-il's hand placed on your lower back as you walked together through the winding, ridiculously colorful corridors and staircases inside the seemingly infinite building.
His touch had your mind a fuzzy blur and the panic and self-doubt in your veins had already been well forgotten, replaced by a state of constant flushing, feeling so small next to him. The feeling was a good one, though. Definitely.
Ever since you had met him he had seemed to have a special liking for you, always making sure you were safe and secure, putting you above the others, making you feel protected and seen. Before every game he made sure he stayed by your side, willing to take whatever risks were necessary for both of you to come out of it alive. Gi-hun had told you a couple of times that he liked you, much more than a friend, but you refused, huffing that it wasn't the place to think about that, much less regarding a man who was married, supposedly. The two of you had really bonded so well, as if you had somehow known each other for a very long time before this.
Once you were in the bathrooms, Young-il closed the door behind both of you, leaving the square guard just outside, and then guided you towards the sinks, opening one so you could take a sip of water.
“Let me...” he quietly whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his turquoise tracksuit and soaking his hands for a few seconds before raising them to your face, running his fingers gently across your cheekbones, removing traces of blood droplets that had been lucky enough to land on your skin, he thought to himself. For some reason, everything felt more intimate than it should have.
You stood in silence, watching him with big, attentive eyes as he wiped your face delicately, as if your skin were the finest porcelain. All that could be heard for a few moments was the water running from the sink and the thundering beat of your heart, desperate to flee out of your chest and leap into his.
“Young-il?”
“Hm?” he hummed, very much focused on cleaning your face, his countenance encouraged you to ask him anything you wanted, it was peaceful and gentle.
“Why do you care so much about me?” you dared to ask him, in a low tone, brave enough to hold his gaze, which softened at your question.
He held back his hands, pulling them away from your face very slowly, analyzing your flushed face for a few moments, contemplating an answer.
“You're special. Very different from the others.”
Young-il sympathized with you, with your history, your person. Usually when he looked at you, he saw his old self, from before all this. He saw in you the good side of things, your good heart, your innocence and kindness, you were much more than a pretty face. He could see past your usual gloomy and pouty face, past your sharp and too cunning eyes, you were too much for that place. And that's why he intended to take you out of there and keep you with him, to have you by his side to care for you and provide for you.
He was excited about the idea of getting to know you further, like a new game in which he had to crack his way through. And In-ho, he was good at games.
You blushed slightly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Special?”
Young-il spun around, allowing you to see his side profile as he washed his hands in the sink, concealing the impulse to smirk as he noticed the immediate effect his words had on you. He had you right where he wanted you.
Now he wasn't wearing his usual dark mask, capable of covering his each and every emotion, no, now his expressions and gestures were for everyone to see, so he had to try a little harder than usual to be cautious. As you too were very careful and cautious, always attentive to your surroundings, you had figured out the objective of the last games as soon as you arrived at the arenas. It had been a record, no other player had been as interesting and quick-witted as you. You only needed a couple of minutes, a scan through the walls, the equipment brought by the guards, and you already had the answer. You were a prodigy. Not even he knew what you were doing in there to begin with, when you should have been in the best university.
You would definitely be a favorite of the filthy V.I.P.'s and that, for some reason, made him uneasy.
“Mhm...” he hummed once again, wetting his face now, refreshing himself as well, thoughtfully, “That makes you dangerous.”
His eyes held a slight playfulness as they met yours now, and his pupils expanded as he watched you step closer to him, unwrapping your sweatshirt from around your waist and lifting it up to his face, gently wiping and drying his skin with it, running the cloth carefully over his cheekbones, forehead and chin, drying every drop of water, sweat and blood that rolled across his skin.
“Why?” you tilted your head, big, interested eyes watching him intently as you carefully wiped his cheeks.
Young-il gazed at you for a few seconds, feeling himself swooning at the careful way you were treating him. He cleared his voice subtly before replying to you, in all honesty, “You're the only one I care about in here.”
Usually In-ho encountered with people who looked at him with fear, with trembling hands, hesitant voice and submissive manners. Most guards were like that with him, he was the Front Man after all. Just a movement of his fingers, a word emitted by his voice, was enough for the whole building to move at his command, for anyone to race to do what he ordered.
But you... you simply reached out to him, touched him, treated him with care, with gentleness and softness, looking at him with warm and sympathetic eyes.
“No other person makes me feel both weak and strong” he rasped out, quietly, his warm breath brushing against your lips, which gaped at his words, his choice of words, “That's dangerous for a man like me”
You motioned to pull your hand away from his face, but he was quick to grab your wrist, stopping the movement.
“Young-il, you're married, I can't—” you hurriedly opted to go the right way, trying to talk some sense into him, shaking your head softly, blinking several times within a single minute. Your heart was already starting to beat faster and he could feel it through his thumb placed on your pulse.
He shook his head, seeking your gaze, his fingers gently squeezing your wrist, not wanting you to move too far away from him.
“I'm not married. I lied” he revealed to you, almost desperately. There was no reason for him to lie to you on that, because he knew that you were someone he could trust, and that everything that was going to happen there, would remain within those walls. A little complicity. A minor crack in the script, in the whole scheme that he had been working on for weeks.
You let him grab your wrist and the jacket of the tracksuit you had previously held in your hand fell to the floor, making a muffled noise that echoed off the quiet walls of the bathrooms. Your brow furrowed slightly, not understanding what he was talking about now.
“You lied? Why?” you asked in a low tone, as if anyone could hear you. It seemed, at least it felt like too private and all too intimate a conversation for anyone to overhear.
“I didn't want to push you away and scare you with my... life resolutions” Young-il lowered your hand now joined with his, looking at you with brighter eyes than usual, “It was the wiser thing to do.”
“Resolutions?” all you appeared to be doing was asking and asking, and In-ho, right there and then, was willing to answer all you wanted to know. Your tone of voice drifted into playfulness, void of judgment or disgust, on the contrary, you reassured him, “All of us here have made bad choices in our lives, that's why we're here. We're all the villains of society”
“Villains...” he repeated, savoring the word and approving it with a gentle nod of his head. Then he tugged on your hand, lifting it to his face, placing an affectionate kiss on your knuckles, doing all of that while keeping eye contact, “But you're not bad, not like them, not like me. You're just so good, angel.” There was the petname again, and it held the exact same effect as when he first called you that, making you blush softly, your legs trembling just barely, your core reacting instantly, your body succumbing to his, longing for him.
His fingers caressed the palm of your hand tenderly, “You have no blood on your pretty hands, no perversity in your little head, no, you're a good girl. You always have been, right?”
He read you like an open book, even though you had been cautious and reserved since the games had begun, you had not let anyone in, much less pass over the walls you had built around yourself. Yet in the span of a few minutes, Young-il had ripped them apart, tearing his way through them, into you.
You caught a glimpse of pity in his eyes.
“You don't have a debt, you just don't have anyone out there waiting for you, to take care of you, provide for you” At his words, you gulped, watching him kiss your knuckles once again, making your heart race, then his lips kissed your pulse on your wrist, and after that, he tugged you closer, placing your palm against his chest, making you feel the beat of his heart as well, “I could be the one. I could take care of you, protect you, give you everything you want. There wouldn't be anything I wouldn't do for you and those eyes. You'd just have to stick by my side, look pretty for me, hm?”
In-ho had been watching you, of course, ever since you had met Gon Ji-cheol in the subway, ever since you had encountered Gi-hun. He knew your life completely, he had grown obsessed with you. You were everything he needed, everything he wanted, the missing piece in his new life. The anchor he desperately needed, yearned to hold on to.
And to your flesh he clung, his lips making a path of light, but tentative kisses on the back of your hand, across your skin, up your arm.
“Young-il...” you breathed out his name a bit stunned by the whole sudden confession. At the sound, he felt his limbs tremble, his lips had reached your bicep and it wasn't until he kissed your shoulder that he opened his eyes so he could look at you with raw adoration, his breath joining yours at the closeness.
“I'll get you out of here, safe and sound. I won't let them touch a hair on your head” he promised, reassuring you, pulling you in, inviting you to slip into his orbit, “I just need you to trust me”
Your eyelashes grazed your cheeks as you blinked slowly, your hand rising to his shoulder, thumb brushing his neck, “How will you do that?”
“Trust me” he pleaded, staring at you for a few seconds before leaning down into you, both of his hands landing on your waist, holding you against him, his face nestled into your neck, he began to press his lips into your skin, kissing it. You close your eyes in utter pleasure, feeling yourself getting all aroused, suffocated by all the attention, the sweet words, his desire for you.
“Would you do that for me?” he rasped out against your skin before kissing it, sucking lightly, “...hm?”
You nodded, swallowing hard, his lips rapidly kissing your throat, and suddenly, everything was him, his mouth, his breath, his hands squeezing your waist. Him...
You lifted your chin, allowing him more access to the soft flesh of your neck, seductive lips exploring every inch of your skin.
“Yes”
“That's my girl” he cooed with tenderness, kissing your neck one last time before pulling away from it so he could look at you, not even letting you breathe the air that had slipped out of your lungs for the entirety of his doing, before he was kissing your lips like a starving man.
He breathed against your lips in between frantic open-mouth kisses. He almost felt himself melt as his ears were blessed by the delightful little noises leaking out of your mouth, panting and low moans escalating up your throat.
“Young-il…” you whispered his name, your voice sheepishly lowering as you noticed the look in his eyes, your hands clasped around his neck, fingers trembling from the thrill and sudden shame that shook you.
“Jump” he said, his tone of voice heavy with command, his hands reaching around your waist and down onto your ass to lift you up effortlessly onto the side of the sinks, balancing himself tight against you in between your legs, which wrapped around his hips and pressed him further into you, under an instinctive impulse.
You panted against his lips as you felt his erection against the inside of your thigh, his body eagerly surrendering to yours in desperation.
His commanding voice and face were something that really turned you on even more, if that was even possible. It wasn't usual for him to be this stern with you, he was usually like that with the other players, with strangers, always cautious, quiet and tactful, meticulous of his every step and every word.
“W-wait— we're going to fuck in h-here?” you somehow managed to asked in between frantic, breathless kisses, barely opening your eyes, catching him with an expression of raw lust, pupils fully dilated now.
Young-il smirked playfully, allowing you to catch your breath for a moment, hands caressing your skin appreciatively beneath the fabric of your shirt, before dropping down and laying on either side of you against the sinks, veins bulging against his skin, “You want to do it in the other room? I don't mind having an audience.”
His little tease and the way he tilted his head made you blush furiously, fingers nuzzling the back of his neck, curling between locks of his hair.
“The guard will hear us...” you tried to talk some sense into him, whispering quietly to him, leaning your head even closer, as if you were little kids sharing a forbidden secret.
But Young-il stood his ground, kissing your lips shortly, to reassure you, noticing the worry in your big eyes, “Don't worry about him, don't worry about anyone,” his hand snaked between your bodies, spreading your legs a little further apart, “He won't hear a thing, they never hear or see anything. Not if they are ordered not to”
One of his hands reached up, stroking your hair soothingly, sensing the softness of your locks between his fingers. You were perfect, perfect. And he just knew he could lose all track of time, if it meant letting himself fall into you, touching you, feeling you, worshipping you.
"Lift your hips for me, yeah?”
Obedient, you lifted your hips just a little, letting him pull the hem of your tracksuit pants down your legs, taking it out of the way of obstructing his path into you.
“I know you want this as much as I do, you don't have to say it,” he cheekily smiled, looking up at you once he had lowered your pants down until they were at the level of your ankles. On his journey upwards, he kissed the side of your leg, your knees and your thighs without taking his eyes off yours, he was ruthless and you looked so pretty to him.
“Your body speaks to me, it has spoken to me since the first game. I've noticed the way you look at me. You are a naughty girl.”
You heaved a sigh, closing your eyes and pulling your head back as his hand dipped into the center in between your legs, feeling the wetness of your panties and the heat, your cunt pulsing around nothing. Your hands, now on either side of you clasped onto the ceramics of the sinks, your back arching beautifully.
You can't help the way your body trembles, flutters and simply submits when his finger rubs your swollen clit through your panties, feeling your face and your whole body flush, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment at the magnitude of his words and the enormity of all that was happening.
“Look at you,” he cooed, eyes locked on your pussy once he had pulled down your panties with precise but desperate motions, ran his index and middle fingers through your slick folds, making you moan, “you're soaking wet for me, just for my kisses? Fuck, you are so beautiful. My pretty, dirty girl. Letting herself be touched by a stranger.... but then again, not a stranger at all, hm?” his voice almost sounded mocking when it reached your ears, “I need to taste you,” his gaze moved up to your face, and he looked nearly pleading, he licked his lips in anticipation, fingers sinking just barely into the small entrance of your core, “may I?”
“Please—” You at once nodded feverishly, almost whimpering over the words that rushed into your throat, “Yes! Please, Young-il, please—”
He dropped to his knees in front of you, slouching closer, sinking right between your legs, his hands lingered around your knees, squeezing them against him with a possessive hold.
“In-ho” he corrected you, flushed against the skin of your inner thigh, pressing kisses along it, all too drunk already by your intoxicating scent, his mind going fuzzy with desire, the urge to make you his, “Call me In-ho”
You didn't even pause to doubt what he was telling you, Hell, you'd call him God if he asked you to. You were in the palm of his hand, on full display. His lips kissed your sex and you mentally thanked fate for putting you there, with him.
“Say it” he ordered, just before he plunged his tongue deep between your folds, knocking all the little breath left in your lungs. “Say my name, angel” the vibration of his voice against the most sensitive flesh of your body clenched the knot deep in the bottom of your belly.
“In-ho” you named him between shaky whimpers and little moans, like a prayer. One of your hands dropped to his head, fingers sinking into the black of his hair, tugging it and making him hiss against your cunt. “In-ho...”
In-ho, In-ho, In-ho...
“Good girl”
God.
He ate your pussy like it was his very last meal, lapping and drinking in everything you had to offer, every bit of wetness from you. The slurping noise burst through every wall of the bathrooms and suddenly, you didn't give a shit if the guard outside heard you, you didn't give a shit if all the guards heard you.
They could be right there watching you, you couldn't care less, it wouldn't change the way you tugged at his hair, how your eyes rolled back and the way he was gazing up at you from below, kneeling perfectly between your legs as if they were the gates to heaven.
His tongue seemed familiar, his fingers squeezing your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, his lips kissing your sex with no breath, all the breath he needed was you. He didn't feel like a stranger, your body acquainted him, perhaps in another life. It all felt like deja vu, a reminiscence.
Your muscles tensed and he felt it through his tongue. You were about to cum, and your throat felt scratchy from all the moans and whimpers rasping through it.
“Gonna cum, baby?” he coaxed, pulling away from your cunt for just a couple of seconds, sneaking a hand in and pressing just barely at your entrance with a couple of fingers, kissing your clit and sucking it just right, “Yes you are,” he grumbled endearingly, his tongue tracing caresses all around your clit now, looking up at you.
“You're so tight” he marveled, watching in awe as your cunt eagerly attempted to suck in his fingertips, clenching and struggling to fit them. “Look at her, so eager... such a good girl, aren't you?” Once again he leaned into your clit, kissing, sucking and caressing it with his tongue, already too pussy drunk to stop. “Cum for me. Cum on my tongue, yeah, just like that”
“Holy shit, In-ho—” you hiccupped, feeling tears blur your vision, a wave of pleasure unleashing from deep in your belly. You moaned his name like a prayer, pressing his head closer to your cunt on an instinctive impulse, “Mmph!”
Maybe it was seeing his chin and mouth all dripping wet of you, or his dark, deep eyes marveling at how your pussy squeezed tight around his fingers, or his other hand sliding up under your shirt, finding one of your breasts and flicking your nipple. Maybe it was all of it, either way, you were cumming like you had never cum before. Your whole body was shaking and succumbing to the overstimulation. Succumbing to him.
In-ho gulped down everything you gave him like magic waters.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he confided, licking his index and middle finger as well, catching every trace there was of you that he could possibly consume as if it were honey.
Then, he kissed your pussy once more before standing up, sending shockwaves of electricity through your whole body with his touch, his hands settled on your hips, holding you so you wouldn't fall.
And he just smirked. He moved closer to you and kissed your mouth, making you savor your own taste through him, his hands appreciatively caressing your thighs, swiftly pulling up your panties back on.
“You're perfect, perfect,” he smoothed against your lips, his forehead leaning close to yours and he kissed you again, praising you, holding you tight in the afterglow of your orgasm, “My girl, my favorite girl, so good for me"
“We need to get back before someone starts to get suspicious,” he mumbled softly, helping you to your feet and pulling up your pants, always holding you with his hands and strong arms.
“B-but,” you retorted, your hands gripping his shoulders, still feeling your legs a little wobbly and unsteady, your dilated pupils and half-closed eyes following him as he arranged you, “I want to-”
He interrupted you, grinning warmly, stroking a lock of your hair away from your forehead before kissing your lips once more, as if closing a deal, a promise, “There will be time. Be patient, princess. We don't want the others to find out about my favoritism, do we?” seeing you still looking a bit confused, and still denying with your head, In-ho smiled playfully, “That would be very unprofessional of me, so this will be our secret”
♡ warnings. — oral sex (f!receiving) ⋆ p in v ⋆ MDNI 18+ ♡ ft. — hwang in-ho (front man) ‧ nam-gyu (124) ‧ choi su-bong (230) ‧ kang dae-ho (388). ♡ jackie’s note. — very rushed; excuse the typos
HWANG IN-HO doesn’t really celebrate valentine’s day, but you’re soft, naive. you care about things like this. so he humours you. he allows you to sit in his lap, kiss him all sweet and eager, all the while grinding down on his cock. you’re wearing nothing but the necklace he bought you—thin rose gold chain, diamond-encrusted pendant nestled against your collarbone. he watches it in a trance, the pendant bouncing on your tits as you move up and down, your cunt warm and tight around him like a glove. his hands rest on your hips, guiding you even though you don’t need it—you’re already pathetically eager to please.
“thought you wanted a romantic night,” he muses, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “this what you had in mind?” you nod breathlessly, nails digging into his shoulders. in-ho likes you like this—so needy, so fucking grateful for the attention. he tilts his head back against the couch, admiring you with an amused smile, as your lips part when you take him deeper. his patience stretches thin when you start to shake, movements getting sloppy. placing both hands on your waist, he shoves you down onto him. “c’mon, you can do better than that,” fingers ghost over your stomach, closing loosely around your throat. feeling the vibrations as your breath stutters. “what, you get tired that quick?” you shake your head no, but you’re so close, squeezing around him. in-ho doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, but he lets you have it—and when you finally go limp in his arms, he strokes your hair, chuckles low against your ear. “happy valentine’s.”
NAM-GYU is far from the romantic type. tonight—valentine’s day—he’s between your legs, which is rare enough that it almost feels like a gift. he takes his sweet time with kitten licks, tongue flicking over your swollen clit before sealing his lips around it, suckling. he’s messy, too. sloppy. doesn’t care if it dribbles down his chin, doesn’t care about the obscene slurping noises. but when you whimper and your hips buck against his mouth, nam-gyu simply pries your thighs further apart. when you’re right there, teetering on the edge, he slows down a bit. lets you tug on his hair as you grind against his face. and when you fall apart, breathless and trembling, he licks his lips, swiping the slick from his chin with his thumb. then he looks up at you—so damn pleased with himself—and smirks. “happy valentine’s.”
CHOI SU-BONG is a busy man. schedules packed, deadlines looming, cameras always on him. but on valentine’s day, he clears everything for you. his team knows better than to even try and book him—he’s off the grid. the day is extravagant. private dining, exclusive shopping, things you’d never let yourself indulge in if it weren’t for him. he buys you everything you so much as glance at. waits for that little flicker of want, whips out his black and it’s yours. but the real gift comes later. back in his penthouse, su-bong lays you out on the bed, fingers tracing the fresh diamond pendant settled against your collarbone. he spares the dirty talk and doesn’t waste any time—not when you’re so wound up. his mouth is hot against your neck, kissing a path down to your collarbone, breasts. he settles between your thighs takes hold of your ankles, placing them over his shoulders. a groan escapes when he sees how ready you are for him.
“p-please. wan’ you.” you manage, and that’s all it takes—his patience snapped (not that he’s a patient man to start with), feeding his cock into you inch by glorious inch. the position has you spread wide, locked in place and unable to squirm away from the way he fills you. “señorita,” a stretched groan deep from his throat, “taking it so fuckin’ good.” each thrust knocks a little sound out of you, breathy and high-pitched. your hands claw at the silk sheets and he chuckles, adjusting his stance to angle another thrust—there, hitting that sweet spot that makes you see sparks. su-bong presses his thumbs into the soft flesh of your thighs, he’s barely getting started, but you’re already falling apart—fucked-out and glassy-eyed, just for him. “happy valentine’s, baby,” he coos, “hope you can still walk tomorrow.”
KANG DAE-HO wakes up before you do. it’s still early, the dark sky outside tinted with pale yellow, but he doesn’t mind. this morning is special. valentine’s day. he’s planned everything—breakfast at your favourite café, a walk along the han river, dinner at a rooftop restaurant. but right now, all he wants is this. you stir when he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. warm hand drifts under the covers, tracing over your stomach, up to your ribs. his voice is still husky with sleep when he murmurs a “morning, baby.” into the crook of your neck. your eyelids flutter open, a raspy moan escaping your parted lips. his hand is now between your thighs. god, how you love waking up like this.
“you’re so pretty,” he marvels, nuzzling his nose against yours. he rolls you onto your back, hovering over you, trailing kisses down your jaw, the column of your throat before he returns to your lips. there’s no rush—there never is, not with dae-ho. when he finally pushes into you—that glorious stretch, you sigh into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck. “gonna make today perfect for you,” he promises. and he does. he doesn’t let up until he’s wrung every ounce of pleasure from you, until you’re a soft, boneless mess beneath him, spent and sated. only then does he press a kiss to the tip of your nose, smoothing your hair back. “happy valentine’s, angel,” he smiles as he tucks you against his chest.
fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.
Hhhnnngggggg I love it give me 10 more (I hope yall know what meme I’m referencing) but yeah, the layout is also super pretty to look at which makes the reading even more enjoyable
➛ warnings. — oral sex (f!receiving) ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ MDNI 18+ ➛ jackie's note. — a bit rushed; my apologies ➛ ft. nam-gyu (124) ‧ thanos (230) ‧ dae-ho (388)
NAM-GYU eats you out like it’s a punishment. like you did something to piss him off, and this is the (glorious) consequence—laid out beneath him, thighs hooked over his shoulders, his mouth hot and unrelenting against you. he doesn’t ease you into it. no teasing, no soft kisses, just his tongue swiping up your slit in one broad, wet stroke before his lips latch onto your clit. sucks hard enough to make you gasp, hands scrambling against the sheets. he smirks into you, barely giving you a second before diving back in, his fingers spreading you open wider so he can work his tongue deeper.
he’s messy with it, too. obscene, really. making sure you hear every wet, lewd sound as he devours you. when he pulls back for air, his mouth is slick, spit and arousal smeared all over his chin. “fuckin’ dripping,” he mutters, more to himself than you, “so easy.” his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you from squirming away. “stay still,” he orders, and when you don’t immediately obey, he presses a hand down on your lower stomach, pinning you in place. “didn’t say i was done, did i?”
and then he’s back on you, lapping at your clit, the cold metal of his ring grazing your skin as he presses two fingers inside, stretching you out without warning. the contrast—the warmth of his tongue, the ice of his ring—makes you shudder, a broken whimper slipping past your lips. he groans at that, greedy. fuck, he loves the way you sound. “knew you’d like that,” he taunts, fucking his fingers into you faster, mouth working in tandem.
his free hand moves, sliding up your body, and then he’s pressing those same cold fingers against your lips, smearing your own slick over them. “open,” nam-gyu orders. when you hesitate, he grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. his pupils are blown, his expression somewhere between cruel and wonder. “be good. taste yourself.” you part your lips, and he pushes two fingers inside, pressing down on your tongue. “good girl,” he drawls, before lowering his head again, tongue curling over your clit in quick, ruthless flicks. your moan is muffled around his fingers, eyes rolling back as heat pools low in your belly.
he can feel it inthe way your thighs tremble. he chuckles against you, low and mean. “gonna cum for me, baby?” he goads, curling his fingers for emphasis. “go on, then. make a mess.” and when you do, legs trembling, the moan breaking into a choked sob, nam-gyu doesn’t stop. just groans into you, drinking in every last drop, lips and chin wet with it. when he finally pulls away, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, grinning wolfishly down at you. “fuck… look what you made me do,” he muses, glancing down at the dark spot on his jeans. then he leans in, presses a languid, filthy kiss to your mouth, making sure you taste yourself on his tongue. “hope you’re gonna clean that up.”
CHOI SU-BONG eats you out like it’s his favourite pastime (apart from partying and taking drugs… or both) he’s got you spread out on the thin mattress, legs draped over his shoulders, knees shaking, and he’s barely even started. presses an open-mouthed kiss against the inside of your thigh, then another, dragging his tongue along your skin just to hear that little sigh escape your lips. “what, you nervous?” he taunts, looking up at you with that smug little smirk. “c’mon, señorita, i don’t bite—” his teeth scrape ever so lightly at the soft flesh. “—unless you want me to.”
and then he’s in, burying his face between your thighs like a man starved, tongue flicking against your clit before dragging down, teasing at your entrance, humming like he’s savouring the taste. and fuck, that little hum alone sends a jolt through you. he’s talking between licks, of course he is, lips slick and breath warm against your skin. “mhmm so good, fuck— could eat you for days.” then he moans, a low, satisfied sound as his tongue plunges deeper, and the vibrations make your whole body jerk. he’s insufferable, but he’s so good at it. alternates between deep, slow strokes of his tongue and quick flicks over your clit, gauging your every reaction. “that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “feels good, huh?”
you nod, or try to, but he’s already got a hand braced against your stomach, pressing you down, keeping you from arching up too much. su-bong looks up at you again, pupils blown open, mouth shining. “say it,” he drawls, before sucking your clit between his lips, tongue laving over it like he’s savouring something decadent. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, and he groans against you, rutting his hips against the mattress. “fuck, you’re killing me,” he pants, but he’s grinning, breathless and wrecked. “gonna let me make you come, baby? bet you’ll look so pretty for me.”
he doesn’t stop talking, doesn’t stop licking, doesn’t stop anything until you’re shuddering beneath him, crying out as he works you through it, murmuring praises against your skin because he simply can’t help himself. and when you finally go limp, chest heaving, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning. “damn,” he exhales, crawling up to kiss you, slow and filthy, making you taste yourself on his tongue. “wanna go again?”
KANG DAE-HO eats you out like he’s got something to prove—not in an arrogant show-off way, but in that eager, wide-eyed, desperate-to-make-you-feel-good way. his big hands are warm, gripping your thighs as he presses tender, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of them, he’s savouring you, like he could do this all night and still not get enough. and when he finally buries his face between your legs, he lets out this quiet, needy moan, his breath stuttering against your skin.
eyes flicking up to meet yours. he’s got that lovesick look on his face, cheeks flushed, lips wet. “is this okay?” when you nod, breathless, he smiles—sweet and a little bashful—and then he’s back at it, tongue flicking over your clit in careful, deliberate strokes, humming softly. he can’t stop making little noises, soft groans and breathy whimpers, like he’s the one getting worked up from this. his grip on your thighs tightens every time you let out a sound, and fuck, when your fingers tangle in his hair and tug—just a little—he practically whines against you, grinding himself into the mattress, he simply can’t help it.
“so good,” voice muffled as he presses his tongue inside, slow and deep. “so fuckin’ good, baby…” he pulls back just to glance up at you again, lips glossy, panting a little. “you—hah—you taste…” he trails off, shaking his head like words aren’t enough. and then he’s right back at it, sucking your clit into his mouth, moaning low in his throat when you buck up against him. thick fingers slide into you next, careful, coaxing, curling just right, and the sound he makes when you tighten around him— “please, wanna feel it—wanna taste you so bad—” he pants, pressing kisses to your thigh between kitten licks, fingers never stopping. and when you do—when you arch off the bed, thighs shaking—dae-ho just groans, holding you through it, whispering sweet praises between kisses, licking you through every aftershock. when he finally pulls away, cheeks flushed, he just grins boyishly up at you. “holy shit,” his voice thick with awe. “can we do that again?”
fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.
warnings: nsfw! 18+ minors do not interact! pre bottom surgery hyunju. p in v. exhibition. possessive!hyunju. one mention of brat!reader.
requested by @saebyeokswhitebra
hyun ju’s sharp wit matches your bubbly, silly energy perfectly.
you’re always giggling over something trivial, like a cute puppy sticker or a chipped nail.
she’ll roll her eyes, her lips twitching into a smirk.
when you dramatically collapse onto her couch, whining about your favorite lip gloss being sold out, she leans over.
the woman's dark hair will brush your cheek as she murmurs, “you’re such a mess, y/n.”
when you whine, hyunju's lips graze your jaw, soft but teasing.
when you pout, she kisses you deeply, her hands pulling you closer until you’re dizzy from her warmth.
your obsession with sparkly, frilly outfits drives hyun ju crazy in the best way.
you’ll strut into a café date in a lacy pink dress and glittery heels, and she’ll give you that knowing look, her eyes tracing your figure.
later, when you’re alone, she backs you against the wall, her fingers slipping under your dress’s hem.
“this dress was dangerous, y/n, you knew that. right, princess?” she whispers, her lips brushing your ear as her hands slide up your thighs, making you tremble with every slow, deliberate touch.
you love giving her goofy pet names like “ju-ju star” or “my glitter queen,”.
she’ll groan, pretending to hate it.
when you’re curled up on her couch, she’ll suddenly pull you onto her lap, her hands gripping your hips.
“call me that again,” she says, her voice low and teasing as her hands trace your upper thighs.
when you do, her lips crash into yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless.
hyunju's fingers love tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer.
your playful flirting by batting your lashes or “accidentally” dropping your hair clip so she’ll pick it up...makes her laugh, but it also tests her patience.
when you bend over in a tiny skirt, no panties on showing off how soaked you already are, she’s done playing.
she pulls you into her bedroom, her kisses intense as she will start fucking you against the door.
“umm fuck! you know what you’re doing, don’t you, y/n?” she moans, her hands roaming your sides.
your giggles turn to whimpers and moans as her lips trail down your neck, her girldick buried inside of your wet vagina.
hyun ju’s focused when she’s working, but you’re her favorite distraction.
you’ll sprawl across her desk, swinging your legs in lacy thigh-highs, chattering about a new bakery with heart-shaped pastries.
she tries to ignore you, but when you lean in, your top slipping slightly to show off your chest, she snaps.
hyunju's laptop’s pushed aside, and she’s kissing you hard, her hands pinning your wrists to the desk.
“do you think that I won't fuck you into the desk until you can't walk for a week?" she says, her lips moving to your lips as her hand lightly squeezes your throat.
your playful protests melt into soft moans as she presses herself closer.
late-night adventures are your specialty, dragging her to a 24-hour store for glittery nail polish or snacks, dancing in the aisles to a pop song in your head.
she’ll sigh, but her eyes soften as she watches you.
back home, she lifts you onto the kitchen counter, her kisses slow and deep.
“you’re such a brat, y/n,” she whispers, her hands slipping under your sleep shirt, teasing your skin until you’re clinging to her, your giggles replaced by needy whimpers for your girl.
hyun ju’s protective when people dismiss you for your girly vibe.
you’ll be gushing about a new sparkly keychain, and someone makes a snide remark.
hyunju's arm slides around your waist, her gaze sharp as she shuts them down.
later, she’s got you pressed against her bedroom wall, her lips claiming yours in a slow, possessive kiss.
“they don’t get you like I do,” she murmurs, her hands lifting your thighs to pull you closer, and you’re lost in the heat of her touch.
your over-the-top gestures, like leaving heart-covered sticky notes on her mirror or sneaking a glittery bracelet onto her wrist, make her smile despite herself.
one night, after finding a note saying “y/n loves ju-ju forever xoxo,”
she pulls you into her arms, kissing you softly at first, then deeper, her hands sliding under your shirt.
juju loves making you feel sooo good!
“I love you forever, my babygirl,” she mumbles later, her lips trailing to your jaw.
hyunju's touch is soft, yet so warm.
it leavesyou trembling and wanting more.
your clumsiness, like tripping in your chunky heels, always gets a laugh from her, but she’s there to catch you.
“careful, princess,” she teases, her hands lingering on your waist.
movie nights with you are a chaotic mix of rom-coms and snacks, you wrapped in a fluffy blanket, tossing glitter-dusted popcorn at her during the cheesy scenes.
she catches your wrist, pulling you into her arms with a smirk.
“you’re gonna regret that, honey,” she says, her lips finding yours in a slow, teasing kiss.
the movie’s forgotten as she deepens the kiss, her hands roaming under your shirt.
after just five minutes, she is on op of you as you moan desperately against her lips.
you’re both lost in each other, only your wetness and her moans filling your own little world.
