In Ho X Reader - Blog Posts

I'm so happy people still post about squid game 🩷

husband!in-ho ✩ headcanons

warnings: 18+, smut.

a/n: i am so obsessed with husband!in-ho. i need him bad. 

sfw ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

• in-ho is extremely possessive and clingy, but much more as your husband. 

• every now and then, he’ll let you watch some games with him. he’ll sit down on his black leather couch and pull you onto his lap, one hand holding a glass of whiskey and the other hand softly placed on your hip. he doesn’t like it when you drink but will occasionally pour you a glass of whiskey, finding it endearing to see you get tipsy so easily. on those days, you get more messy, placing soft kisses to his jawline as he watches the game. “you’re distracting me.” he’ll murmur, but won’t stop you from kissing him. as soon as the game is over, he’ll turn off the tv and kiss you softly, cupping your face and pulling you closer to him. 

• in-ho doesn’t fall asleep easily and when he does, he’s awakened by any noise. when you start to get tired, he’ll close the book he was reading and shut off the light, pulling you into chest. he’ll stroke your hair and place soft kisses to the top of your head until you drift off to sleep. 

• in-ho spoils you a lot. he will buy you just about anything you ask for and even things you don’t ask for, but that’s just his way of showing love. plus, watching you get all dressed up in an outfit and jewellery he knows he bought for you makes him happy. 

• at first, in-ho didn’t like taking you to the island with him on the week of the games, afraid he would be putting you in danger. he’s much more willing to take you now, mainly because he can’t stand to be away from you. he also loves to see you after a long day of work, knowing he can slip into your arms and feel any tension go away. 

• if he goes off to the games to be a fake player, he’ll do his best to keep you from getting too worried. 

“i don’t think this is a good idea,” you’ll mumble to him. 

he’ll give you a soft smile before responding, “i’m going to be okay, i promise.” 

he’ll find ways to sneak off during the games to meet you somewhere, each time pulling you into a tight hug and placing a passionate kiss to your lips. he’ll reassure you that he’s okay and wipe away any of your tears.  

nsfw under cut ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

• in-ho loves eye contact during sex. he’ll force you to look at him, admiring your pretty face and flushed cheeks. whenever you take him from behind, he’ll wrap a hand gently yet firmly around your neck, forcing you to look back at him. after a long day’s work when you get on your knees, his hand will reach down and lightly lift your chin up. “so beautiful.” he’ll murmur. 

• he loves cockwarming. often times he’ll do it just to see how needy you get, begging for him to let you move. he’ll sit on the black leather couch in the office, watching the first game, while you straddle him. his hands will grip your hips firmly and anytime you squirm, he’ll tighten his grip. “be a good girl and i’ll give you what you want after i’m done watching this, okay?”

• he loves to fuck you in his frontman attire. on those days, he won’t even remove the mask. even though you’re unable to see his face, he still expects you to maintain eye contact. his voice comes out deeper due to the distortion, as do the grunts and moans. meanwhile, his gloved hands will tangle into your hair, pulling slightly. 

• he prefers to receive his head, but on some nights his kisses will trail down your neck, eventually making their way further down your body. he’ll slip off your panties and strongly hold your thighs down, before giving you a smirk and getting to work. he’s messy yet meticulous with his movements and knows exactly all the right spots for you. when he eats you out, he likes to drag out the process, teasing you and getting you so close to climax only to take it all away. he mainly does this to hear you beg. as you get closer, your hips will buck up and his hands will tighten their grip on your thighs, pressing you back down into the mattress. “hold still,” he’ll murmur into you, the vibrations driving you crazy. 

AHHH MY SWEET LITTLE BABY I SWEAR I IMAGINED THIS SO PERFECTLY

Player 001 goes grocery shopping and buys everything his girlfriend touches?

Oooo I like it!'

The very...expensive Shopping spree

Character: player 001 X fem!reader

Summary: As above

Warnings: None

Young-Il wasn’t sure how this kept happening. He had come to the grocery store with a simple mission: grab the essentials and go. But somehow, the cart kept filling up with things that weren’t on the list.

And it was all your fault.

"Oh! Look at these," you said, stopping to pick up a bag of chocolate-covered almonds. You turned them over in your hands, scanning the label with mild curiosity. "I wonder if they’re any good."

Without hesitation, Young-Il plucked another bag off the shelf and dropped it into the cart.

You frowned. "I was just looking."

"And now you have some to try," he said simply, pushing the cart forward.

The pattern continued in nearly every aisle. You lingered near a bottle of peach-flavored soju? Into the cart. You pointed at a new brand of ramen and mumbled, "I’ve never seen this before"? Into the cart. You absentmindedly touched a plush loaf of milk bread while talking about something entirely different? Into the cart.

By the time you reached the frozen foods section, you caught on. "Wait a second." You narrowed your eyes at the absurd amount of extra snacks. "Are you buying everything I touch?"

Young-Il, who was very obviously shoving a package of tteokbokki into the cart because you had picked it up two minutes ago, froze. "…No."

You crossed your arms, watching him closely. "Then why do we suddenly have three different types of cookies?"

"You touched them."

"Young-Il!"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s not a big deal. If you like something, I want you to have it."

You softened at that, but you weren’t about to let him off that easy. With a mischievous grin, you grabbed the most ridiculous thing you could find—a giant, neon-pink bag of cotton candy-flavored popcorn—and held it up like a challenge.

He stared at it, deadpan. Then, exhaling slowly through his nose, he reached out and added it to the already overflowing cart. "Fine."

You giggled, slipping your arm through his. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you’re expensive," he teased, nudging you lightly as he pushed the cart toward the checkout.

You didn’t argue. After all, if Young-Il wanted to spoil you, who were you to stop him?

This is so fr like I need someone to take care of me 😭

from "i think it'd be nice to date a man who's a little older than me and call him daddy, not too old and i don't want him to actually act like my dad though"

to "i need him to be old enough to be my dad and act like my real father. i need him to be middle aged and take care of me as if i was his very own daughter"

HEHEHEHHEEHEH this is literally one of the best stepdad inho fic

imagine having an affair with your stepfather hwang in-ho

warnings— stepcest, minors DNI.

Stepdad!In-ho was the last man you expected your mother to bring home, but from the moment you met him, there was something about him that made your pussy throb. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered a little too long when he thought no one was looking, or the way his smooth voice dropped low whenever he spoke to you. It felt wrong, the pull you felt toward him, but you convinced yourself it was nothing. He was just attractive, that was all.

Stepdad!In-ho proposed to your mother suspiciously fast. Barely a few months after meeting, a diamond ring gleamed on her finger, and she was gushing about wedding plans. You tried to ignore the way he met your gaze as she showed off her ring, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Fast, isn’t it?” you had commented. “Why wait?” he replied smoothly, taking a sip of his drink. His gaze flickered to your tits briefly before returning to your mother, but you felt it.

Stepdad!In-ho had a presence that filled a room, making it impossible to ignore him. He was always composed, always in control, and somehow, that only made him more frustrating. More intriguing. More attractive. Every brush of his hand on your waist when passing by, every lingering glance, every low chuckle at something you said—it was as if he was playing a game only the two of you knew existed.

Stepdad!In-ho never crossed any lines—yet, but he didn’t have to. The tension was in the silences, in the way he stood a little too close, in the way your breath hitched when he looked at you like he saw something he shouldn’t. You knew it was wrong to think about him like that, but knowing didn’t stop the heat that pooled in your core whenever he was near.

Stepdad!In-ho was good at keeping secrets—you could tell. Maybe that was why you found yourself drawn to him. Because despite everything, you wanted to know what lay beneath the surface. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted you to find out.

Stepdad!In-ho had a habit of appearing at the right place at the right time, always watching. In the hallway late at night when you left your room for water, when you passed him in the living room, when your mother wasn’t paying attention. His gaze never wavered, never faltered. And yet, he never said a word about it. Neither did you.

Stepdad!In-ho wasn’t one for unnecessary conversation, but when he spoke, his voice carried weight. “Be careful,” he once murmured when you nearly bumped into him in the kitchen, steadying you with a firm hand on your waist before stepping back like nothing had happened. The touch was brief, insignificant. But it lingered in your mind longer than it should have.

Stepdad!In-ho made sure your mother never wanted for anything, lavish gifts, weekend trips with her friends, anything to keep her occupied. And that left you alone with him more often than you expected. The air between you was always filled with underlying sexual tension neither of you acknowledged. Until one evening, when your mother was away, and you finally cornered him, not expecting him to retaliate, not expecting the shift in his expression when you tested the boundaries you both had pretended didn’t exist.

Stepdad!In-ho smirked, his usual unreadable expression giving way to something else. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” His voice was deep, amused, but there was something dangerous beneath it. Something that made your pulse race. You didn’t answer. And for the first time, he didn’t hold back.

Stepdad!In-ho didn’t stop you. The moment your lips pressed against his, you thought he would push you away, tell you this was wrong, but he didn’t. Instead, his hands found your ass, squeezing and pulling you closer, his grip firm like he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. You could feel how hard his big cock was pressed up against you.

Stepdad!In-ho was always composed, always in control, but not now. His lips moved against yours with purpose, claiming, his hands roaming in a way that made your pussy throb. When he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, his voice was lower than usual. “You know there’s no going back now, right?” You swallowed hard, nodding. You didn’t want to go back.

Stepdad!In-ho took every opportunity to fuck you after that. When your mother was home, his touches were fleeting, his fingers grazing yours as he handed you something, standing just a little too close when no one was looking, his lips brushing against your ear when he leaned in to say something low enough that only you could hear. But when she was away? He didn’t hold back.

Stepdad!In-ho was always in control, he never let you doubt where you stood with him. “I own you now,” he whispered against your skin one night, after he had emptied his cum inside you. “You’re mine.” And all you could do was whimper, his words sinking into you.

Stepdad!In-ho had only one rule—“Don’t tell your mother.” But he didn’t have to worry. You would never tell her. Not when you wanted his cock like the air you breathed. Not when it felt so wrong but so right at the same time.

Stepdad!In-ho fucked you on every surface of the house he bought for you and your mother. That included the bed he shared with her. You were his now, after all. By the time he’d be finished with you, you’d be a dumb, babbling mess. Trembling and fucked out. Your pleasure was his responsibility, and he loved to make you feel good as you moaned daddy in his ear. The nickname was innocent at first, even your mother was on board with it, but you and him both knew exactly what you meant by it.

Stepdad!In-ho took you anywhere, anytime. After a while, he stopped caring if your mother was in the house during one of your escapades. He’d simply put his hand over your mouth and tell you to “shut the fuck up and take my cock.” Being the good girl you were, you did exactly as you were told. She didn’t think twice about the amount of time you were spending together. In fact, she encouraged it, wanting her daughter and her new stepfather to get to know each other better.

Stepdad!In-ho’s best decision was marrying your mother. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gotten such a tight, wet pussy to get every night. He wouldn’t have gotten a pretty young thing on his arm. He wouldn’t have had his good girl to do anything he wanted. You were everything he could ever want. His real life fantasy fulfilled.

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.

Yeaa... I can't defend myself anymore 😭

( i love inho and thanos so much)

ᥫ᭡. IF THEY GOT A HOLD OF YOUR PANTIES ᥫ᭡.

ᢉ𐭩 ft. hwang in-ho/player 001/the frontman, seong gi-hun/player 456, thanos/choi su-bong/player 230 , kang dae-ho/player 388, nam-gyu/player 124

ᢉ𐭩 cw: nsfw, perviness, panty-sniffing, masturbation, nam-gyu cussing you out/insulting you LOL??, fairly icky stuff, dirty fantasies, fem!reader. gooner activities. mdni

ᢉ𐭩 a/n: doesn’t take place in the games but… if you want to interpret this that way you can LOLS. sorry if it seems rushed i was very eager to take this out...

HWANG IN-HO/PLAYER 001/FRONTMAN

-honestly? he’d probably find it very endearing how you still maintain your style underneath all your clothes.

-he uses this as a better insight to your tastes. mentally noting down your preferences as he properly looks at the pair in his hands, turning the article of clothing around with a watchful gaze and rubbing it between his fingertips to feel the texture.

-lacy or simple? noted. silky or cotton? he’ll keep it in mind. dark or pastel? he’ll make sure to keep an eye out for something similar. he wants to know every aspect of your character, and this serves as the perfect chance. “How cute..” he’d muse.

-doesn’t judge whatsoever. after all, they belong to you, that by itself is a blessing. that being said, he doesn’t exactly have a need for them as he much prefers the thing that wears them. he prides himself on his self-control. you could not catch him acting like a hormonal teen.

-at the most, he’ll give them a tiny sniff, brushing his lips against them and flick the tip of his tongue out just to give himself the daily dose of your smell and taste, smiling to himself as he intakes the scent and flavor. but don’t worry, he puts them right back where he found them without ever telling a soul. <3

SEONG GI-HUN/PLAYER 456 (S1)

-his mind goes blank. does this make him a perv? well, probably. does he really care? somewhat. he wouldn’t have much of an explanation if someone walked in on him at that moment.

-just stares as he ponders what to do with them. he could put them down, pretend it never happened—it’s not like he had any bad intentions.. but an opportunity like this doesn’t come around often. and it’s been years since he had anything to properly give him a release.

-kind of has an inner battle over whether or not it’s worth actually being a dirty old man for relief or being a respectable one and giving up on this opening. yet of course.. he’s only human. and he just wants you so much :( !!

-pretty much uses your panties to muffle himself, sniffing at it like a dog whilst rutting slowly into a pillow. of course, the thin undergarments could only do so much in the face of his needy little sounds <3

-panting heavily, letting out grunts as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Please.. Please..” his face almost looks pained with a slack jaw and furrowed brow, hands grasping at the pillow beneath him to try and ground himself. (it doesn’t work, because he quickly begins to pick up the pace.)

-gasps when he finally climaxes, burying his face even deeper into your underwear to the point he might suffocate himself all while shooting out his seed over his pillow. feels pretty disgusted in himself and guilty after he comes down from his high, pouting a little at the mess he made. still, he can’t deny how blissful it felt. it was almost like you were right there with him…. </3

-keeps your panties. yeah, hopefully those weren’t your favorite pair—because they’re his now. he’ll return them at some point, but until then, if you ever exasperatedly tell him about the loss, gi-hun will keep his mouth shut and play the oblivious. >.<

THANOS/CHOI SU-BONG/PLAYER 230

-he looks like an immature highschool boy with the way he marvels at your panties, as if he hasn’t been in previous sexual flings and one-night stands where he has most likely witnessed all kinds of undergarments. and yanked them off…

-i guess the only reason why he’s so fascinated is because they’re yours. no way in hell you’d ever willingly give a pair to him—did you really think he wasn’t going to savor every moment of this? this is heaven served on a silver platter.

-it starts off as a joke for thanos, stretching the elastic waistband in various degrees and angles while giggling. maybe even uses them as a slingshot. he never imagined that he’d find himself in a position like this, you know? this is the type of shit you’d see in crappy rom-coms.

-all that runs through his head is something along the lines of “Hell yeah.. Nice.” UNTIL it finally occurs to him that, holy shit. he’s actually got your panties in his possession. the way he looks around to see if anyone’s by (despite obviously being alone) is damn well near cartoonish.

-wastes no time in lowering his pants to his knees, biting his bottom lip as he wraps a hand around his cock. he’s hard almost instantly, the thrill of doing something so filthy behind your back making his dick twitch and expel tiny drops of pre-cum.

-“Oh, fuuuck.. Mhm..” his words are shaky and border on a breathy chuckle, pumping his dick while raising his other hand to his face. takes sporadic sniffs of your panties, bunching them up in his palm whenever a particular stroke really made his hips buck.

-His head will roll back, his motions lazy and unhurried while he kicks and spreads his legs out. his voice is husky as he grunts out incoherent curses, gradually speeding his hand up before he eventually shoots out warm ropes of cum, letting the strands coat his fingers in short spurts.

-“Mannn...” he’d grumble, quite miffed by the fact that he was gonna have to clean up when the flow stopped. but he immediately cheers up, seeing that your panties were free from the spill. that meant he wasn’t gonna have to discard them just yet!!

-also keeps your panties and acts like he doesn’t know anything if they’re ever brought up in a conversation. he thinks of them as his personal lucky charm, which of course he won’t give up until he actually has to. but at that point, he’ll just try to get his hands on another pair and so on.. silly little addict :3c

KANG DAE-HO/PLAYER 388

-having been the youngest brother of 4 sisters, its safe to assume that he’s probably had similar occasions whilst doing laundry. bras, panties, he’s most likely handled them at least once throughout his life while being surrounded by women.

-thats not to say he doesn’t still get a little bit shy, even as an adult. its mostly out of respect more than it is embarrassment. he understands that underwear is meant to cover women’s privates, he’s been taught not to view them in a sexual light. but that’s because it came to family. there, underwear was just that—articles of clothing to literally wear under.

-this is a much different situation: being accidentally exposed to the type of undergarments his crush puts on. with the way he fumbles with your panties, you’d think they were sizzling hot and causing burns. poor dae-ho doesn’t know what to do !!

-especially not when his pants feel a little tighter than usual. his free hand will shoot down, try to adjust the tent forming with a tiny frown on his face. “Don’t be gross, Dae-ho. Cmon..” he’ll scold himself in a hushed whisper, but his body clearly having other plans.

-he’ll start to panic, desperately trying to make his boner die down. he swears he isn’t a perv, honest! he just can’t help but think about how good you’d look teasing him in them, rubbing your clothed pussy against his dick…!

-yeah, he’s got it bad. the imagery would make his dick stir that much more, practically throbbing as he hesitantly sneaks a hand beneath the waistband of his pants. “Shit, I’m so sorry—” he’d gasp out an apology followed by your name, his warm palm finally coming in contact with his aching cock, wrapping his fingers around the base.

-dae-ho’s eyes would flutter, his adam’s apple bobbing as he’d begin to jerk off at a moderate pace to the thought of you, wanton moans falling from his parted lips. he would swipe the pad of his thumb over his leaking tip, the motion causing a high pitched mixture of a whine and grunt. “Oh, god..”

-can’t help but to give your panties little licks, the taste of your cunt making his hips buck into his hand. the overwhelming feeling of his orgasm creeping up accompanied by a tugging guilt began to form tears in his eyes, nothing ever actually escaping yet threatening to.

-his back arches when he cums, thighs trembling as his digits tighten around your underwear, holding the pair close to his chest as he groans. “Yes! Oh, please, I love you—” his voice would tremble, practically breaking off into a small cry. his warm cum coats his hand, the latter continuing to give weak strokes until he’s unable to produce anymore.

-the moment he regains his composure and he realizes what he just did, he’ll be so disappointed in himself :( washes his hands with soap like 4 times, as if it’ll get rid of his dirty little misdeed. gosh he feels so pathetic…

-tells NO ONE about the endeavor, and leaves your panties where he found them. he’s going to have a lot to think about. (◞‸◟)

NAM-GYU/PLAYER 124

-one word: shameless.

-for some reason, nam-gyu just won’t fess up to the fact that he probably does genuinely have a crush on you. that’s absurd, he doesn’t do that kiddie shit! so, instead he’s making it his duty to find every possible way of throwing you off. because it’s funny. and what better chance does he have than right now?

-so what if this makes him a creep? hopefully you’ll take it as a sign to stay the hell away from him after this. (he says, anyway. a part of him actually hopes you’ll enjoy what he’s about to do and come back for more… he’s just,, strange like that.) he doesn’t think twice about taking his cock out from his boxers.

-the only one to actually USE your panties to jerk himself off. he tells himself he’s doing it out of spite, furiously pumping his veiny dick as he bites into the hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach that jumped with the contrasting nip of the cool air on his warm skin.

-“Stupid bitch. See how you fucking like it,” he’d growl, pausing a few times to frustratedly tuck strands of hair behind his ear whenever they’d get in his face. has no problem being loud, letting out groan after groan with every intention of getting caught. walk in on him, why don’t you? see how pissed off you make him feel. how fucking pent up he is for you.

-“Gonna cum all over your face,” nam-gyu’s threats would flow with no particular party on the receiving end. only the thought of you on your knees tending to him. doesn’t care that he probably looks like a lunatic while guiltlessly talking dirty, his balls drawing up at his own filthy-natured words.

-saliva would begin to seep into his shirt’s hem, his pace unrelenting as he fists his cock into your underwear, his other hand curling and uncurling whenever his pleasure spiked. he’ll swallow thickly as the knot in his lower stomach begins to form, squirming slightly in his spot in a visible attempt to chase his climax.

-he’ll align the inner crotch area perfectly along his length, his head tossing back as he finally lets go, your panties easily catching the globs of semen that shot out. “Fuck yeah.. Take it, take my cum.” he’d grunt, eyebrows furrowing while sinking his teeth deeper into his top.

-breathes heavily upon seeing the stick and foggy white liquid cause an evident dark patch on your panties. with a self-accomplished smirk, he’ll tuck himself back into his pants, releasing his shirt from his mouth as he pinches the waistband of your cum-soaked panties with the tip of his index and thumb, keeping it a distance away from him. he has just the thing for you.

-nam-gyu will actively seek you out, bringing along the end result of his.. work. once he finds you, he’ll toss it right at you, not caring if you were in catching-range or not.

-“Just a little something from me to you. Enjoy the gift, yeah?” he’d give you one of his sly smiles, eyes twinkling with the typical hint of mischief before walking off without even waiting for a reply or reaction.

-well, at least you got your panties back, right? <3

I MEED THIS BUT JUST OF IN HO LIKE A FULL ON SERIES AHHH ANYWAYSS LOVEE THISSS

JUST LIKE CANDY — SQUID GAMES MEN

Summary: The squid games men with a sweet, kind, and slightly naive reader, who is just a total sweetheart throughout the games. Warnings: American!Reader mentioned in the salesman’s part.

HWANG IN-HO

❀ How did such a sweet, caring being such as yourself end up in a place like this? That was In-ho’s first thought when you ran up to him, inviting to sit with your group, which conveniently had Gi-hun already in it. You could be useful. You were so young. Your trusting and naive nature was going to get you hurt. He knew what the people in these games would do for money, so from that day forward he vowed to protect you.

❀ He cheered you on in six legged race, making sure his guards knew not to kill you just in case your team didn’t make it to the end for some reason. And in mingle, he made sure you were no more than an arms length from him at all times. He’s gotta keep you safe, doesn’t he? And in the end—during the rebellion—he refuses to let you join. In-ho can’t risk losing another person he cares about. It would destroy him. So he begs you to stay put, and you do.

❀ When he finally makes it back to his quarters and becomes the frontman again, he makes sure you’re safe. For the next three games, he wastes no time telling the guards that they should give you hints and clues on the next games. Once this is all over, you two can be together, as you should’ve been all along.

THE SALESMAN (GONG YOO)

❀ When the salesman sees you—a foreigner, likely American—sitting on a wooden bench in the park he liked to walk in during his ‘work’ hours, he couldn’t help but think of what an impeccable target you would be. A perfect contestant for the games. So, Gong-Yoo approached you, expecting the normal untrusting response. Maybe you’d be confused, speaking in English or poor Korean.

❀ But the recruiter was shocked when you waved at him politely, letting him sit beside you. Yet, the most shocking of all, your Korean was amazing for a foreigner. He didn’t even have time to offer you a card to the games before he was engaged in a polite conversation with you. Gong-Yoo didn’t even want to recruit you for the games anymore. Despite being a sadist, subjecting you to such pain and torment seemed wrong for him to do.

❀ Gong-Yoo finds you every day on the same bench, waiting for him. You two quickly become friends, and then something more. The Salesman finds himself excited for your company. So when he asks you to get dinner with him, he couldn’t be more pleased when you happily accept his offer. Another win for him.

HWANG JUN-HO

❀ When Jun-ho discovers an American officer has been transferred to his department, he finds himself slightly intrigued. When he finally meets you, he’s shocked. When he thought of an American, you were the farthest thing from it. You were a complete angel. Not like how the other detectives had described Americans as patriotic and cocky. No, you were different, and Jun-ho feels himself drawn to you.

❀ Jun-ho suggests you work on the case together. I mean, you’re new to the country, aren’t you? You might need some help navigating Seoul! What if you get lost? Jun-ho should be there to guide you for your first time. That, and he might have…maybe…wanted to get to know you better. The two of you find yourselves meeting up quite frequently. At the park, the local library, the station. Anywhere, really.

❀ When the two of you finally ‘crack the case,’ as you say back in the states, Jun-ho cant help but fawn over you like a teenage boy. The way your excitement shows through your gleaming eyes, or how you immediately go to give him a high five. Yeah, he knows you’re the one for him.

HEHEHEHHSWH I LOVE THE WAY YOU WROTE IN HO LIKE HES NOT TOO MEAN AND HES NOT COLD LIKE HES ADORABLEEE 🤭

(Side note) please make more 🙏

I need more of In-Ho smut….(same dynamic between them as your latest one🫣) but maybe where y/n is upset because she’s having to go to the island with him to control the games and is bratty..:)

Player 001 x reader [SMUT]

Note: bratty! Reader

“Honey!” In Ho called through the house.

“What?”

“Where my one black shirt?” He asked, digging through his drawers.

“Which one?” You ask, walking into the bedroom. “The compression one? Or the more loose-fitting one”

“Uhh, both?” He answered, you stared at him as he pulled a black shirt out. “Nevermind… are you ready? Packed?”

“No.” You say curtly, as you watched him shove his shirt in his suitcase. He peered up at you as he pushed it closed.

“I told you to get your stuff together, 2 weeks ago.” He sighs exasperated.

“And I told you I wasn’t going.” You say putting your hands on your hips. He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him and looking at you lovingly.

“I told you, you had no choice” he smiles. “It’s my job”

“Well I’m actively telling you, I want no part in those games nor witnessing the massacre of innocent lives that’ll occur”

“Oh but darling, you won’t be near it. Not even close to it.”

“Giant screen”

“I’ll have it moved.”

“Pink guards.”

“I’ll change their uniforms”

“The mask.”

“Can’t do that one”

“Then I’m not going.” You say cocking your head back, challenging him to argue.

“Pack your things. Now.” He lowers his voice. The sternness in it taking you by surprise, yet igniting a flame within you.

“No” you say. He looks at you, his eyes riddled with frustration.

“Stop being so bratty, (Y/n). Now, go pack you things” he released your waist, you shook your head.

“I hate you” you mutter. His eyes widen at your words. His mouth opened slightly as his tongue searched his teeth, thinking of how he was going to handle you.

In an instant, he grabbed you and roughly threw you on the bed. Yanking your shorts down as you whine in protest.

“You hate me” he said, as he pulled his cock from his pants, stroking himself a few times. “So, I’ll fuck you like you hate me, and go to work.” He says breathlessly. You stared up at him. Your mouth slightly watering. “Actually, you probably don’t even wanna look at me, since you hate me so much” he flipped you, grabbing your hips to arch you in line with his cock.

He roughly inserted a finger, swirling it inside of you, pressing your g-spot seeking more arousal than the already evident dripping down your thigh.

In Ho's hands grasped your hips, his fingers digging deep into your skin as he pulled you back against him. You felt his warm breath on the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. The air was thick with tension as he positioned himself behind you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

He didn't waste any time, pushing himself into you with a swift motion. The sudden invasion sent a wave of pleasure through your body, and you felt yourself arching back against him. His thrusts were rough and intense, each one sending a shockwave of sensation through you. You could feel him pounding against you, his movements becoming more frantic as he approached his climax.

The room around you melted away, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing and the sensation of In Ho's body crashing against yours. His hands were unyielding on your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again. Your own cries were lost in the cacophony of sounds filling the air.

As In Ho's movements became more urgent, his grip on your hips tightened. You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his skin, coiling like a spring ready to snap. And then, suddenly, he groaned and pushed deep into you, holding himself there as he came.

You felt his hot cum filling you, a sensation that was both overwhelming and exhilarating. It was as if every nerve ending in your body had been set aflame, leaving you gasping for breath. As he pulled out of you, In Ho's hands remained on your hips, holding you in place.

For a moment, there was silence – just the sound of ragged breathing and the beat of two hearts pounding in unison. Then In Ho's voice cut through the stillness, low and husky with satisfaction.

"Now that you're pumped full of cum and obviously done hating me," he said roughly, "will you get your shit together so we can leave?"

The question was abrupt, but it was clear that In Ho wasn't going to wait around for an answer – he expected action. He stepped back from you, releasing his grip on your hips as if daring you to move forward now that he'd claimed what he wanted from your body.

You nodded, a smile plastered on your face as you rushed through the room to gather all the things you’d need before your 2 week trip to the island. You followed him outside to the car that was going to drive you to the ferry. Happily pattering behind him he turned and stopped you,

“And please, (y/n), for the love of all things pink, please drop the fucking attitude” he told you before planting a soft kiss on your forehead and grabbing your hand, “let’s go to work”

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @whamzou

FINALLYY SOME IN HO SMUT 😭 THANKK YOU FOR BLESSING THIS TO ME

His- Hwang In Ho

Wearning: +18,slight smut

You are sitting on Hwang In-ho's lap with his cock inside you, in a black room lit only by the soft light of the large screen in front of you. His face is calm, but his eyes are fixed on the monitor, where the players move slowly during the game of “One, two, three, star.”

His hand, warm and firm, rests on your thigh. His fingers move slowly, tracing circles on your bare thigh. It's a gesture that should make you uncomfortable, but there's something hypnotic in the calm with which he does it, as if it were natural for him to have that kind of control over you and everything around him.

You were sitting on him, with his cock inside you. You didn't move, you just warmed up his cock while he enjoyed the sensation.

“You're lucky you're not there,” he says in a low voice, almost a whisper. His eyes do not move away from the screen, where a newly fallen player is mercilessly eliminated.

“Lucky?” you repeat, almost in disbelief. His grip on your thigh tightens slightly, as if to remind you that you have no choice.

“Yes,” he replies, finally looking down at you. His face is serious, but there is a hint of something deeper, almost tender, in his eyes. “I would never have let you be among them. You are too precious.”

You feel a shiver down your spine. It's unclear whether it's fear, attraction, or a disturbing mix of the two. In-ho looks back at the screen, but doesn't stop stroking your thigh, the movements now slower, more deliberate.

“I don't understand why you chose me,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.

“Because you don't belong to that world,” he replies without hesitation. “You are too young, too beautiful to be thrown away like one of them.”

His words hit you like a rock. You know that his protection is not entirely altruistic; you have become his possession, something he wants to keep away from the rest of the cruel world. But you can't help but wonder if, deep down, there's a part of him that wants more than that.

The game on the screen continues, but in the room time seems to have stopped. His hand on your thigh, his slow, controlled breathing, and his commanding presence are all you can feel. You're caught between the desire to escape and the strange, twisted safety and excitement you find in his arms.

You close your eyes feeling the feeling of his cock inside you without it moving or anything, You leaned into his chest and he grunted softly as he stopped your hips so you wouldn't move. A soft, subtle smile appears on In-ho’s lips as you leaning against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your skin, and his strong arms around you.He lets out a soft, contented sigh, appreciating the intimacy of your touch.“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted something like this,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry.

His hand runs through your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. He seems to be lost in thought, but his eyes never leave your face.“You’re beautiful,” he says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”

You blushed at his words as you felt his cock throb inside you and you moaned, you wanted to move on him so bad but he wouldn't let you. Your moan doesn’t go unnoticed by In-ho, and he grins at your reaction.

He leans towards your ear, his lips barely touching your skin as he whispers, “I can feel how much you want to move.” His grip around your body tightens slightly, keeping you in place. He enjoys the anticipation, the fact that you’re at his mercy completely.

“But I like to have you like this for a little while longer,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck. You moaned softly as your pussy tightened around his cock, you wanted to ride him so bad but you nodded at his command.

In-ho lets out a low growl as he feels you tighten around him. He can't help but feel a surge of desire, but he holds back.His arms remain wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling a little faster."Be patient," he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and firm.

You nod, closing your eyes, enjoying this sensation. In-ho can feel how much you’re enjoying the situation, and it makes him smile. He's enjoying it too, the control he has over you, the way your body reacts to his every touch.

He leans in closer, his lips gently grazing the side of your neck. “You're so sensitive,” he purrs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love how responsive you are to me.”

You moan softly at his words. In-ho takes notice of your every reaction. He loves the effect his words have on you.He begins to place kisses along your neck, his lips soft and gentle against your skin. He alternates between light, feather-like kisses and more firm, lingering ones, his lips moving slowly as he takes his time.

“I'll make you ride my cock when this game ends, but for now, warm it up for me like you're doing,” he murmurs through kisses on your neck. You can feel his breath on your skin as he speaks, sending shivers down your spine. He's in complete control, and it's both exciting and maddening.

“Of course,” you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly as you respond to his command. In-ho nods approvingly, his lips still moving against your skin. “That's a good girl,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble.

His hands run up and down your back, exploring every inch of your body, making sure you feel the weight of his presence.The game on the screen continues, and you knew you had to wait. You were anxiously waiting for this game to end so you could finally have everything you want.

AHH I NEED MORE "lee byung hun" FANFICC LIKE NOT HIS CHRACHTERS I WANT IT TO BE HIM 😭

A Star in the Making.

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — Co-stars were caught in a whirlwind of off-screen chemistry.

A/N — this is a request that i rewrote the draft multiple times. the story request itself is sooo good but i feel this didn't live up to my expectations. hopefully, it's an enjoyable read though.

anon's request post

— 𓆩𓆪 —

Lee Byung-hun sat at the long, polished table across from Kim Tae-ri and the production team, a script resting unopened in front of him. The meeting room buzzed with quiet anticipation as the director leaned forward, clearing his throat.

“So,” the director began, looking between Byung-hun and Tae-ri, “we’re finalizing casting for Our Fading Days. Ji-ho and Min-ji are set, but we’re still struggling with Ha-yoon.”

Kim Tae-ri, who got cast as Min-ji tilted her head. “Isn’t the screen test next week? I thought you had a shortlist already.”

The director sighed. “We do, but none of them quite fit. Ha-yoon is vital to the story. We need someone who embodies her hopeful, cheerful energy, but also has depth. Someone who can hold her own against Ji-ho’s quieter nature and make the audience feel that emotional connection.”

Byung-hun listened quietly, his fingers lightly drumming the table. “What’s the issue with the shortlist?” he asked.

“Either they have great chemistry with you but lack the character,” the director explained, “or have the character but can’t create the platonic bond Ji-ho and Ha-yoon need. We’re considering holding another round of auditions, but…”

The producer chimed in. “We’re running out of time. If either of you has recommendations, please send them our way.”

Kim Tae-ri raised a brow at Byung-hun. “Any ideas?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

That evening, Byung-hun walked home under the dim city lights. The meeting lingered in his mind. Casting Ha-yoon was proving difficult, and he wasn’t sure they’d find someone who could balance the character’s charm and vulnerability.

As he passed a local theater, he noticed the soft glow of lights through the windows. Something pulled at him—curiosity, maybe. Without thinking, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The auditorium was nearly empty, save for a handful of people rehearsing on stage. Byung-hun’s gaze locked on a young woman, her. She stood at the center, pouring raw emotion into a heartfelt scene. Her voice carried across the room, weaving between desperation and hope. The intensity in her eyes made the dialogue feel alive like she wasn’t just acting but being.

He didn’t know the play or her name, but he felt a pang of admiration. The way she transitioned from lighthearted to deeply emotional reminded him of Ha-yoon’s complexity.

When the scene ended, her laughter rang out as she joked with the cast. The shift was so effortless that it startled him. This wasn’t just an actress—this was Ha-yoon.

Before he could gather his thoughts, a stage crew member approached him. “Sorry, sir, rehearsals aren’t open to the public.”

Byung-hun nodded apologetically. “My mistake.”

As he walked out, he pulled out his phone and called the director. “I think I found the perfect Ha-yoon. Contact the Arko Arts Theater. You’ll know her when you see her.”

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

Months passed, and filming for Our Fading Days was in full swing. You, cast as Ha-yoon, had been a bundle of nerves during your first few days on set. Transitioning from theater to television was daunting, but Byung-hun made it easier.

From the start, he was supportive, sharing tips, running lines, and reassuring you when you doubted yourself. “You’re doing great,” he said one evening after a long day of filming. “Better than great. Ha-yoon feels real because of you.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, still unsure. “It just feels… unnatural sometimes. Like I’m out of place.”

He smiled softly. “If that’s unnatural, I can’t imagine what you’re like when you’re in your element.”

The two of you quickly became inseparable. Lunch breaks were spent sharing snacks, late-night text exchanges were filled with inside jokes, and off-set outings turned into a regular thing. Kim Tae-ri often teased the both of you, trying to nudge the relationship further, but you and Byung-hun were oblivious to her hints.

As filming wrapped up, you found yourself bittersweet about the end. “I’m going to miss all of this,” you admitted one day.

He glanced at you. “You mean the show or…”

“Everything,” you replied vaguely.

The promotional interviews were in full swing, and the three of you, Lee Byung-hun, Kim Tae-ri, and you, sat on a couch, microphones in hand, under the bright studio lights.

The interviewer smiled as they turned to the group. “The story of Our Fading Days is so compelling—a childhood friendship between Ji-ho and Ha-yoon drifting apart as Ji-ho falls in love with Min-ji. It’s relatable and bittersweet. But,” they continued, their tone shifting to something more playful, “fans have picked up on something surprising. Despite Ji-ho and Ha-yoon not being a romantic pair, viewers are shipping you two. What do you think about that?”

You blinked, caught off guard for a moment, and then laughed lightly. “Oh, well, I guess it’s pretty common to root for the childhood best friend to end up with the main guy, even though Ji-ho and Ha-yoon see each other as strictly platonic. But yeah, I understand them, Ha-yoon's reaction towards their deteriorating friendship might seem more than platonic to the viewers.”

Before you could say more, Kim Tae-ri let out an amused laugh, shaking her head. “I think you misunderstood. The question wasn’t about Ji-ho and Ha-yoon. They’re asking about you and Byung-hun.”

Your eyes widened as the realization hit, and heat crept up your neck. “Oh.” You let out a nervous laugh, glancing at Byung-hun for support.

Byung-hun grinned, clearly amused by your reaction. “Really?” he said, leaning into the playful tone, “Shipping us? Wow, that’s a first—I didn’t think I had the qualifications to keep up with her. She’s the real star here!”

You laughed along with him, brushing it off. “He's too nice but yeah, Let's keep the shipping between our fictional lives.”

Kim Tae-ri smiled knowingly, her tone light but deliberate. “I don't know, you guys...” She paused, then added slyly, “Min-ji might just be the third wheel around here.”

The interviewer raised their eyebrows, the audience chuckled, and you felt your face grow warmer as you exchanged a quick, sheepish glance with Byung-hun. He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head in mock defeat, and the moment moved on—though the subtle tension lingered in the air.

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

Even after promotions ended, Byung-hun remained a constant in your life. He came to your theater performances, always waiting backstage with flowers in hand.

“You’re spoiling me,” you joked one night after a show, hugging him tightly.

“You deserve it,” he replied.

That evening, as you both strolled under the city lights, he suddenly stopped.

“You know,” he said, his tone a little nervous.

“Hmm?” you asked, looking up at him.

“I was thinking...” He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Ji-ho and Ha-yoon might make a great couple. Their relationship is certainly more than some friendship, don't you think? ”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you were speechless. Then you laughed, the sound warm and genuine.

“Is Ji-ho trying to confess, here?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Well… Ha-yoon definitely can sense the adoration Ji-ho has for her. I can say that she feels the same way.”

He chuckled, his hand brushing yours. “I'm glad she feels the same. She's a star in the making and he will continue walking her way.”

As the two of you walked on, hand in hand, the city seemed brighter than ever.

I need this man in me 😝✌️ (jk)

SMUTTY IN-HO HEADCANNONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL 😭😭

second chance | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: hwang in-ho joined the games with one goal: to monitor and manipulate seong gi-hun. but everything changed the moment he saw his childhood friend among the players—a face he never expected to see again. *.✧ word count: 21.7k (are you even surprised) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, choking, guns, explicit depictions of injuries, panic attacks (reader experiences one) usage korean words and suffixes, mentions of cho sang-woo, reader moved from in-ho's place to gi-hun's place (gyeonggi-do to ssangmun-dong), softie in-ho because its you, angst :D *.✧ note: I ACTUALLY THOUGHT CROSSROADS WILL BE THE LONGEST THING I WRITE, SURPRISE SURPRISE SECOND CHANCE IS HERE. hope you guys love it!! masterlist | request here

Your life wasn't supposed to go in this direction. 

Ever since you were small, people knew great things would come to you. You were talented and smart in every way, shape, or form. Teachers would gush about how bright your future was, and neighbors would brag to their kids about your achievements as if they were their own. So why were you here now, standing in a room surrounded by strangers for a chance of winning some money? 

Currently, all of you watched as the screen displayed various people getting slapped left and right. Announcing their player numbers, names, and how much money they owe. The sheer amount of debt displayed beside each name was staggering—hundreds of millions, even billions.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the whispers around you. People were muttering under their breath, some recognizing names and faces, others lamenting their own debt in comparison. The tension in the room was suffocating, a shared humiliation that weighed heavy on everyone.

Player 132. [Last Name] [Name]. 562 million.

The words echoed in your ears like a slap to your face. Your own name, your own shame, displayed for everyone to see. A few heads turned toward you, but you refused to meet their eyes. You scratched the back of your head in shame, keeping your eyes on the ceiling as if you could avoid the weight of judgment all around you.

'Well... at least it wasn't from that stupid crypto bullshit,' you mumbled under your breath, though the bitter smile on your lips faded as quickly as it appeared. As the guard moved to another person, the crowd around you blurred into an indistinct mass of voices. You didn’t care to listen. You let yourself drown in your thoughts, tuning out the chaos.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Life was supposed to be a series of steady steps upward, not a freefall into the abyss. When your family moved from Gyeonggi-do to Ssangmun-dong, everything changed. 

Your father, once the pillar of the family, walked out one day without a backward glance. Which left you and your mother to fend for yourselves. He left for some woman he barely knew. Someone who didn’t have to deal with the mess he’d left behind. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, your mother decided she had better things to do than raise a child. 

One morning, you woke up to an empty house and a note on the dining table. The words were hurried, impersonal, as if she didn’t pushed you out and raised you. Worst of all, she didn’t even spell your name right!

The pain of abandonment never left you. It festered, growing into a heavyweight you carried everywhere. You tried to survive, piecing together odd jobs and small victories, but it was never enough. Debt piled up faster than you could manage, dragging you into this nightmare.

The first game was announced— Red Light, Green Light. 

You had doubts. The game seemed too simple, almost childish, like something even teens could survive without breaking a sweat—just a game, right? But as soon as the first shot rang out, you realized how wrong you were. Bodies fell like dominoes, blood staining the grass in vivid red. The sound of death was deafening, and the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut. You froze, your breath caught in your throat, as the world around you erupted into chaos. People screamed, some running, others collapsing in terror. You couldn’t move. The simplicity of the game suddenly made sense—it wasn’t without cost.

Death was suddenly real, closer than it had ever been before. Your entire life flashed before your eyes—every mistake, every regret, every moment you had taken for granted. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not here, not now.

Luckily, a player stepped up and took charge. Player 456. He was calm and collected, advising everyone to hide behind the larger players, claiming that the robot wouldn’t be able to see you if you stayed out of its line of sight. His plan was simple yet effective, and with his guidance, you managed to survive the round.

As you returned to the main area, the tension from the first game clung to the air like a thick fog. Every breath felt heavy, and the adrenaline that had pushed you through the chaos now left your limbs trembling. Despite it all, a deep sense of gratitude toward him lingered in your chest. You wanted to stay close, to follow his lead. There was security in his presence, a grounding force that kept the worst of your fears at bay.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the room. Guards entered in perfect formation, their masks as eerie as the silence that fell over the crowd. The sight of them sent a shiver down your spine. One by one, people began to plead for their lives, collapsing to their knees, their voices breaking with desperation as tears streamed down their faces.

“There must be a misunderstanding,” the main guard, marked by a square on his mask, said in a monotone voice. “We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity.”

Before he could continue, the same player who had spoken during the first game—Player 456—interrupted with a sharp shout.

“Clause three of the consent form!” The room froze, all eyes, including yours, turning to him.

His words were sharp, filled with a sense of urgency and strength “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?” he demanded, his voice firm.

“That is correct,” the guard replied, his tone unwavering, as though the question had been anticipated.

“Then let us take a vote right now,” Player 456 said, his words igniting a spark of hope in the crowd. It was as if a door to freedom had cracked open, and everyone could almost taste the possibility of escape.

“Of course. We respect your right to freedom of choice.”

A collective sigh of relief spread through the crowd, a fleeting moment where fear was momentarily pushed aside by a glimmer of hope. For the first time, you felt something that resembled a shift in the balance of power. They weren’t in control—at least, not entirely.

“But first,” the guard continued, “let me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.” He pressed a button on his device, and the room suddenly dimmed.

A low hum filled the air, followed by the descending of a massive glass piggy bank from the ceiling. It gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, casting eerie reflections across the players’ faces. The sound of wads of cash clinking together echoed through the room, loud and clear, like the jarring noise of a twisted casino jackpot.

The players stared, wide-eyed, as the money poured into the glass bank. It was hypnotic—the sound, the sight, the overwhelming promise of wealth. Some players instinctively stepped forward, as if drawn by an invisible force, while others lingered at the back, still fearful but unable to resist the allure of the prize.

“The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91,” the guard announced, his voice as flat and emotionless as ever. “Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you quit the games now, the remaining 365 of you can equally divide this amount and leave.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Player 100, who was standing near you, called out, his voice filled with disbelief. “How much is that?”

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won,” the guard replied without hesitation.

The words hung in the air, heavy and cold, as a wave of murmurs spread across the room. There was a mix of disbelief, anger, and confusion.

“Twenty-four million? We almost died for that?” Player 124 scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of it too. Twenty-four million wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the terror, the near-death experience, the trauma of the first game. Yet, at the same time, the number was hard to ignore. It was money. A lot of it. Enough to make you forget the panic, at least for a while.

“You said the prize was 45.6 billion!” Player 230 shouted, his voice rising with frustration.

The guard’s response was calm, almost detached. “The rule states that 100 million won is added for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

There was a brief silence as everyone processed the implications of this. The numbers didn’t seem to add up at first. But as the calculation sank in, the possibility of even more money stirred the crowd.

“How much will it be if someone survives until the very end?” someone asked, their voice trembling with hope.

The guard, unbothered by the growing tension, simply stated, “As I already told you, the total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. If you are the sole survivor, you will receive the full amount.”

The room erupted into a chorus of gasps, whispers, and shouts. Some players looked at each other, their expressions shifting as greed began to seep into their eyes. Others remained still, haunted by the terror of the first game. The promise of so much money was a heady temptation, but it came at the price of their lives.

“So, we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?” someone asked, their voice tinged with hope, as if the very idea of escape was now within reach.

“Yes,” the guard confirmed. “As outlined in the consent form, you may vote after each game and decide whether to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point. We always prioritize your voluntary actions.”

You stood there, torn. The terror you’d felt during the first game still clung to you, wrapping around your chest. But the temptation of the prize money—of being free from the crushing debt that had haunted you for so long—was overwhelming. This could be your only chance to escape. A chance to climb out of the pit you’d been stuck in, buried under mountains of bills and threats. If you walked away now, you’d return to the same miserable existence, drowning in debt, with no way out in sight.

Your mind raced. You had fought so hard just to survive, and now, standing in this room, you were faced with a decision that could change everything. The terror from the first game still gripped your chest, but the lure of the money was almost impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about survival—it was the chance to escape the suffocating weight of your debt, the years spent trying to climb out of a hole you’d fallen into.

The voting started with Player 456. You watched as he cast his vote, the air thick with tension. The red light from the voting machine flickered for a brief moment as he pressed his choice, a clear "X." One by one, others followed, some hesitating, while others quickly made their decision. The chaos of it all felt overwhelming. You couldn’t help but wonder if they had already made up their minds, whether they were giving in to the temptation of the money or if they were too afraid to continue.

When your number was called, your legs felt like lead as you approached the voting machine. Each step was agonizingly slow, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. The room seemed to shrink, and you could feel every eye on you, even as you tried to ignore them.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the button. The thought of pressing it, of choosing to continue, made your stomach twist in knots. For just a moment, you hesitated, feeling the weight of your decision crushing you from all sides.

Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the circle.

The blue light illuminated your face, a cold reminder of the choice you’d just made. A guard stepped forward, handing you a blue patch marked with the same symbol as your vote. You accepted it with shaky hands, bowing slightly before pinning it to your jacket. As you returned to your spot in line, your heart pounded in your chest.

God, why did it come to this? What could have gone so wrong? Had you done something to upset the gods? Or were you simply born unlucky, destined to live a life riddled with hardships?

You couldn’t stop questioning yourself—your decisions, your choices, the countless crossroads where you might’ve taken a different turn. You missed the early moments in your life when everything felt so simple, so light. Back then, there were no looming debts, no sleepless nights spent worrying about survival, no constant weight pressing down on your shoulders.

You had it all once—a lovely family with successful parents who made sure money was never an issue. You had good grades, a tight-knit circle of friends, and a future that seemed full of promise. You were happy, truly happy.

And you weren’t always alone. Aside from your parents and friends, there was someone else—someone who had been a constant in your life, a steady presence you could always count on. He wasn’t just a friend; he was the friend. The one who stood by you no matter what, even when the world seemed to turn its back on you.

When the bullies in school targeted you for reasons you never understood, he was the one who stepped in without hesitation. You still remembered the way he’d square his shoulders, his voice firm and unwavering as he told them to back off. He never cared if he got in trouble for standing up for you; all that mattered to him was that you were safe.

He wasn’t just your protector, though. He was the person who could make you laugh when you were seconds away from tears. He had this knack for knowing exactly what to say or do to lighten your mood, whether it was pulling a silly face, cracking a joke, or nudging you with that mischievous grin that always made you roll your eyes but secretly smile.

He was the one who stayed up late with you when you were cramming for exams, even though he wasn’t the most studious person himself. He’d throw pencils at you when you started to drift off, only to shove snacks in your face the next moment and tell you to take a break. He had this way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, as if just being around him made everything a little brighter.

And as much as you tried to deny it back then, he had become your everything. Your safe haven, the person you trusted more than anyone else. He was the one you turned to when life felt too heavy to bear, the one who never made you feel like a burden for leaning on him.

He was your partner in crime, the one who’d sneak off with you during boring school events, laughing as the two of you got caught and had to face detention together. He made life feel like an adventure, even in the quiet, simple moments.

But above all, he was your first love. Though you never said it out loud, it was there—in the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled at you, in the way you found yourself searching for him in every room you walked into. It was in the way you felt safe and seen in a way no one else could make you feel.

He didn’t know, of course. How could he? You were just kids, too shy to even admit it to yourself most of the time. But looking back now, it was clear as day: he wasn’t just your best friend. He was the boy who had stolen your heart, even if he never realized it.

You paused. The faint buzz of the voting machines around you barely registered as you froze in place. Why were you thinking about him now, of all times? You clenched your fists, trying to will the memories away, but they pushed their way into your mind regardless.

You remembered the way he shouted at you, his voice filled with anger and frustration. The argument had been sharp, the words he threw at you cutting deeper than you ever thought possible. He had been upset that you were leaving, but instead of asking you to stay, instead of saying goodbye, he stormed off.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed; the wound was still raw. He was your best friend, the boy you loved so deeply you couldn’t even bring yourself to admit it back then. And he let you leave without so much as a goodbye.

Your chest tightened as the memories overwhelmed you, crashing over you like waves. You had convinced yourself that you were over it—that it didn’t matter anymore. But clearly, that wasn’t true. The emotions you had buried deep, the hurt and the unanswered questions, all clawed their way back to the surface.

Did he hate me? The thought stung, even now. Did I mean so little to him that he couldn’t even say goodbye?

The pain lingered, sharp and vivid despite the years that had passed. You could still see it, like a scene burned into your memory—the moment he walked past you on your last day of school. His face had been a mask of cold indifference, his eyes resolutely avoiding yours as though looking at you would cost him something precious.

You had called his name, your voice trembling with desperation and a plea you couldn’t quite voice. You just wanted him to stop, to look at you, to give you a reason, a sign that he cared. Anything to make the ache in your chest a little less unbearable.

But he didn’t.

He just kept walking, his steps steady and unyielding, leaving you standing there. The knot in your throat had tightened until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. He left without a word, without even a glance. And in that silence, you were left with nothing but heartbreak and questions that would never be answered.

And now, here you were, those same feelings dragging you down as the votes continued. The sound of faint button presses and shuffling feet filled the air, each vote drawing everyone closer to an answer.

You hadn’t been paying attention to the numbers flashing on the screen, but the tension in the room was suffocating. The votes were neck and neck—X and O, tied. A deuce. The final vote could change everything. You could feel the unease creeping over the room like a storm cloud ready to burst. The fate of the game rested in the hands of the last player.

The tension was unbearable. Everyone held their breath. It felt as if time itself had come to a standstill, the anticipation hanging in the air.

You forced yourself to look up, to see who the final person would be. Your heart pounded louder in your chest with every second, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on you. Your gaze fell on the figure walking toward the voting station. You couldn’t immediately register who it was—your mind too wrapped in the urgency of the moment. The final decision.

 But then something hit you. A familiarity. A sinking feeling in your chest.

And then your breath hitched.

It was him—.

In-ho.

Your world seemed to tilt on its axis as you watched him. It was like a punch to your gut. Your chest tightened painfully, and your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. You had spent years trying to push him out of your mind, trying to move forward, but in that moment, it all came rushing back with a force you weren’t prepared for. The ache in your chest deepened, and you realized just how much you had never really healed.

Your mind swirled with the years you’d spent without him. The countless nights you had stayed awake, wondering what had gone wrong, why your friendship ended that way.

He was standing there now, in front of you, like a ghost of your past. He was so close, yet you couldn’t reach him. You couldn’t understand what you were seeing. Was this a dream? Was this some cruel twist of fate?

You watched his every move as if in slow motion. There was no hesitation in his actions. His hand reached out to press the button with a deliberate, practiced motion.

And then, he voted. O.

The cheers erupted around you, but they felt distant, muffled, like they were happening in another world. You could hear the excitement rising from the others around you, the shift in the air as the vote swung in favor of continuing the game. 182 to 183.

But none of that mattered to you.

All you could think about was how the boy who had once meant everything to you was here, in the same room, playing the same dangerous game. The same boy who had walked away from you all those years ago, leaving you in silence. 

You stared at him, unable to move, to speak. It was as if time had stopped, like the world around you had turned to static. Your mind was racing, a torrent of emotions swirling inside you. The hurt you had pushed down for so long had exploded back to the surface.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, your body frozen in disbelief. All you could do was stand there, feeling the weight of the past, the weight of everything that had happened between you two. The questions that you had carried for so long—about why he left, about why he never said goodbye—pushed their way to the surface, raw and painful.

Your mind raced, but your body refused to move. You were trapped in this moment, unable to escape the overwhelming emotions that came with it. There was no easy way out.

The past was alive in front of you, and it had never felt so real.

Hwang In-ho was a man who prided himself on always being in control. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated, and designed to maintain his upper hand. He wasn’t one to take risks without knowing the outcome, nor did he leave anything to chance. His sharp intellect and knack for strategy had always kept him one step ahead of everyone else, whether it was in the games or in life outside of them.

So when he learned that Seong Gi-hun, the man who had also escaped the game’s clutches once, was coming back—not as a desperate participant, but as a threat to everything the games stood for. In-ho knew he had to act. It wasn’t just about the rules or the money; it was about protecting the intricate system he had helped sustain, the foundation he had sacrificed everything to uphold.

The idea of Gi-hun winning was infuriating. He wouldn’t allow it. Not because he believed in the games' morality, but because their collapse would mean his own failure. It would mean admitting that he, the one who always stayed ahead, had lost control.

And In-ho did not lose. Not to anyone. Certainly not to Seong Gi-hun.

The solution was clear: he had to join the game.

Adopting the alias "Young-il," In-ho entered as Player 001, his plan meticulously calculated. Every detail was accounted for—his presence would be unassuming, his actions deliberate. The goal was simple: get close to Gi-hun, observe his every move, and ensure the game remained firmly under his control.

It wasn’t just about safeguarding the system he had come to embody; it was about reaffirming his dominance. To In-ho, this was more than strategy—it was a statement. A test to prove that no matter the odds, no matter who opposed him, he would remain two steps ahead.

That was his purpose. His only focus.

Or so he thought.

Everything changed the moment he saw you.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him breathless and disoriented. In-ho’s steps faltered, his carefully calculated composure slipping for the first time in years. His eyes locked onto your figure amidst the sea of players, and for a fleeting moment, he thought it was a cruel trick of his mind—a phantom conjured by guilt and memory.

But no. The wide, shocked eyes staring back at him were unmistakably yours.

The realization struck him like a physical blow, an ache spreading through his chest that he couldn’t ignore. You were here. You were really here.

You shouldn’t be here.

He froze, his usually sharp mind scrambling to piece together an explanation. What were you doing here? What had happened in your life to bring you to this place of desperation and death? He remembered you as you once were—bright, warm, full of life—and now, the thought of you standing on this stage of horrors felt wrong in every conceivable way.

Memories of you came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. The way you used to laugh, how you’d pull him out of his brooding silences with a simple touch, the way you always seemed to bring light into his otherwise shadowed world. Those memories clashed violently with the reality before him. You didn’t belong here. Not in this uniform. Not in this nightmare.

He felt his mask of indifference. The armor he’d built over years of pain and regret started to crack. For so long, he had mastered the art of detachment, burying every emotion deep beneath a layer of control. But now, with you standing there, all of it came flooding back. Guilt. Regret. Anger.

And something else. Something he couldn’t name but had tried to bury long ago.

The look on your face gutted him. Recognition, confusion, hurt—it was all there, as raw and unguarded as the day he’d last seen you. You looked at him like he was a ghost, like you couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you. That look shattered something in him, something he hadn’t realized was still breakable.

For the first time in years, In-ho felt unsteady. His carefully constructed walls, the ones that had kept him in control, in power—shook under the weight of your stare.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

He clenched his fists at his sides, a desperate attempt to regain control, to force himself back into the cold, calculating mindset he’d mastered. He couldn’t let you see how much this affected him. Not here. Not now. This was a game—a deadly one—and emotions were dangerous, liabilities he couldn’t afford.

Even as he tried to steady himself, forcing his gaze away and focusing on the task at hand, something inside him rose above the chaos. He knew, without a doubt, that he had to protect you.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t part of his plan. But it was undeniable. Seeing you here, dressed in the same uniform, facing the same deadly stakes, ignited something in him that he couldn’t ignore. He had joined the game to regain control, to manipulate the outcome, to ensure Gi-hun wouldn’t tear everything apart. But because the one person he never wanted to see in this hell was standing right in front of him, the thought of sticking to that plan seemed impossible.

And no matter what it cost him—his control, his plan, his very life—he couldn’t let you die.

It was time for the second game: the Six-Legged Pentathlon.

You walked hand in hand with another player—Player 222, Kim Jun-hee, as she had introduced herself earlier. Together, the two of you moved through the crowded room, searching for three more players to form a team. Your eyes flicked down to the frail figure beside you, her grip on your hand trembling slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of protectiveness.

Earlier, before the announcement of the next game, you had found her curled up in the corner of the bathroom, clutching her stomach with a pained look on her face. She had been trying to hide her tears, but they slipped through anyway, leaving tracks down her pale cheeks. The image of her broken composure stuck with you, and even now, the weight of it hadn’t lessened.

The look on your face as you crouched beside her was indescribable. When you asked her what was wrong, she was silent at first, her gaze vacant and lost as if the weight of the world was too much to carry. Slowly, her shoulders sagged, and she spoke in a low, quiet voice, each word heavy with the burden she was trying to carry. It wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was everything. Her words were a confession, a painful release of all the fears that had built up inside of her. She spoke of being alone, of how no one wanted to team up with her, and the overwhelming worry that constantly gnawed at her. But it wasn’t just that.

She talked about her child. The one thing in this nightmare that kept her going, even if only by the thinnest thread. Her mind was consumed by the thought of them. She wondered if they would survive. But what hurt the most was the months of silence from the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with. Her fiancé, who had disappeared without a trace, left her to wonder if he was dead or alive, only to learn he was in the same hellish game. She never imagined she would have to face this—alone, scared, with no one to lean on.

Something in her tone, the hopelessness wrapped in every syllable, struck a chord deep within you. For a moment, it wasn’t Jun-hee you saw—it was yourself. 

You had been there before. You knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to watch everything you had built slowly crumble, to be left in a world where trust was a distant memory. The same fears she voiced were the ones that had haunted you—the fear of losing your loved ones, the dread of facing a future where you had nothing, and the overwhelming loneliness that seemed to suffocate every hope you had left.

Her pain was your pain, her desperation mirrored your own. You had been there—fighting for survival, clinging to any hope that things could get better, even when the world felt like it was falling apart. It wasn’t just empathy you felt for her; it was the haunting reminder of your own struggle, a shadow of the darkness that had once consumed you. You didn’t want her to experience the same isolation, the same crushing hopelessness that had almost broken you. You knew too well how it felt to be lost, to question whether you’d ever make it out alive, to wonder if there was anything left to fight for.

As you looked at her, a quiet resolve settled deep within you. You wouldn’t let her walk this road alone. You wouldn’t let her fall into the same despair that had once threatened to swallow you whole. You could no longer stand by and watch someone else go through the torment you had endured alone. You would be her strength, her anchor—just as you had longed for someone to do for you when everything seemed to be slipping out of your grasp.

Without hesitation, you reached out, your hand finding hers, cold and trembling. You squeezed it gently, offering a steadying warmth that you both needed. “Then you’ll come with me,” you said. “We’ll figure this out together.”

You weren’t going to let her face this nightmare by herself—not when you knew the crushing weight of solitude so well. You wouldn’t let her fall down the same painful path you’d been on. From that moment on, you refused to leave her side.

You were supposed to focus on your own survival, you know that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her behind. Something about her reminded you of someone else, someone you had been a long time ago. You couldn’t save everyone here, but maybe, just maybe, you could save her.

Meanwhile, In-ho’s plan was progressing smoothly. He had successfully gained Gi-hun’s trust and joined his team. Together with two others—Player 388 and Player 390—they were only one person short of completing their group. In-ho kept his head down, maintaining his facade as the amiable and harmless Player 001. He had positioned himself perfectly, right where he needed to be.

Until he heard your voice.

“Hello, excuse me. Do you have space for two more?”

His head snapped up instinctively. There you were, standing just a few feet away, holding player 222’s hand as you looked at Gi-hun and the others, avoiding him altogether.

In-ho couldn’t help but stare.

“We’re sorry, miss,” Gi-hun replied apologetically. “We already have four members.”

You didn’t falter, keeping your small smile. “That’s not a problem,” you said firmly. “Would you be willing to have her instead?”

Before anyone could respond, you gently nudged Jun-hee forward. She hesitated, glancing nervously between you and the group, but you gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

In-ho stayed silent, watching the interaction unfold. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Irritation bubbled under the surface. Of course, you would do something like this. Even in a place like this, where survival meant looking out for yourself, you were still thinking about someone else. Always putting others before yourself, even when it didn’t make sense to do so.

You never change.

And yet, despite the frustration clawing at him, He couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth in his chest. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. A part of him—a part he didn’t want to acknowledge—was happy.

Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much this place had changed the both of you, there were still parts of you that remained the same. That stubborn kindness, that fierce determination to protect others—it was one of the things he had always admired about you.

It was one of the things that terrified him.

You still carried that same hope, that same belief that people could be better, that kindness had a place even in a place like this. It made his stomach twist. The fact that you hadn’t hardened, hadn’t become cynical like everyone else—it was both a relief and a danger. You couldn’t afford to trust anyone here, not without consequence.

What if you trusted the wrong person? What if you let your guard down just once and someone used that against you? He had seen it happen before, in a way that made his insides tighten with dread. People here weren’t to be trusted, and you were too pure, too unguarded. He’d seen how quickly things could turn, how easily alliances could break, how one wrong move could be the end of someone’s life.

It made him want to reach out, to warn you, to pull you away from the people who might betray you. But instead, he stayed silent, his heart racing faster than his thoughts could keep up with.

His gaze shifted to the girl you had taken under your wing. She was trembling, showing a strong facade. In-ho couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness for her too—though he would never admit it out loud. She was vulnerable. She didn’t belong here. But you were giving her a chance. You were always giving people chances, even when they didn't deserve them.

He tore his gaze away, looking anywhere but at you. He hated the way you made him feel, even after all those years. Torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to pull away, he couldn’t reconcile the two. He had built walls for a reason—so that no one could get too close, so that no one could hurt him again. And yet, there you were, slipping through those cracks, reminding him that even after all this time, even after all the distance, he still cared.

“What about you?” Player 388 asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. I’ll find a group somewhere.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his brow furrowing with worry.

You nodded, your tone firm but kind. “Of course. If you want, you can help me?” you offered, though it wasn’t a question so much as a gentle suggestion.

The male nodded without hesitation, as though it was the most natural thing to do. He saluted you with a small smile, his expression brightening as he turned to lead the way. You followed quietly, walking side by side as the two of you engaged in light, casual conversation. The sound of your voices seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere of the game, but for a moment, it was just the two of you, navigating the chaos in your own way.

In-ho watched the interaction unfold from a distance, his gaze fixed on you. His chest tightened as he observed the way you interacted with Player 388, the ease with which you formed connections, the comfort you seemed to give others despite the grim situation. For a fleeting moment, he found himself wishing it was him walking beside you instead of that other player. He longed to be the one you relied on again, the one you trusted in a world where trust felt like a luxury.

He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides, trying to suppress the emotions that stirred inside him. It wasn’t supposed to matter. You had your own path to walk, and he had his. But the feeling gnawed at him, more intense than he liked to admit. A part of him wanted to be the one to keep you safe, to be the one to stand by your side. To be the one you turned to, the one who could offer you something real in the midst of all the chaos. But another part of him feels like that’s impossible to achieve now.

Busy with his inner battle, he didn’t notice the curious watchful eyes of the female beside him.

Luckily, you and Player 388—Dae-ho, as he introduced himself—found a group of four not long after starting your search. Players 149, 007, 120, and 095 stood in a tight circle, whispering among themselves as they looked around for their missing fifth member. Their faces were a mix of tension and determination, but they didn’t seem hostile, which was more than you could ask for in this environment.

Dae-ho, ever the confident one, strode forward with an easy smile. “Excuse me… do you need more members?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

All four turned to face you both, their eyes scanning you up and down. There was an unmistakable wariness in their expressions; trust wasn’t exactly in abundant supply here. Finally, Player 120 spoke, her voice measured. “I’m sorry, but we only need one more.”

Dae-ho didn’t even flinch at the rejection. Instead, his grin widened, his tone growing more playful. “Well, you’re in luck! You see, [Name]nim here is a master at spinning tops. Quick hands, sharp focus—everything you’d need for precision games like these. How could you possibly pass on a deal like that?”

You blinked at him, both amused and exasperated. Was he seriously pitching you like you were a product at an auction? Despite the absurdity of it, his tone was so casual, so confident, that it managed to disarm the tension in the air, even if just a little.

You gave Dae-ho a small shake of your head before stepping forward yourself, bowing politely to the group. “I may not be a master,” you began, sending a pointed but amused glance toward Dae-ho, “but I’ll do my best to contribute. Please, if you’ll have me, I’ll work hard.”

The group exchanged glances, their hesitation apparent. It was weird for them, hearing a casual and almost teasing tone in an environment where death is prominent. Still, after a moment, Player 120 gave a curt nod. “Alright. You’re in.”

Relief flooded through you, and you turned to Dae-ho, a small smile breaking across your face. “Thank you,” you said, your tone filled with genuine gratitude.

Dae-ho gave a casual wave of his hand, as if dismissing your thanks. “Thank me after you survive this game [Name]nim.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his unshakable confidence. “Alright Dae-ho, see you later.”

As you turned back to your new team, introductions were exchanged before quickly discussing strategies. Despite the palpable tension in the air, they seemed cooperative enough. Each player carried their own air of quiet determination, though the stress of the situation was evident in the tightness of their voices and the stiffness in their movements.

Your team was one of the teams to go first. When it was your turn, you grabbed the top and string with trembling hands, whispering a small prayer under your breath. Slowly, you began winding the string tightly around the body of the top, starting from the bottom and wrapping upwards. But as you reached the middle, the string suddenly slipped free, unraveling entirely. You froze, your shaky hands betraying you further as you fumbled to pick up the loose string.

A lump rose in your throat as panic surged through you. You knew you were good at this. Spinning tops was your childhood talent, something you had always taken pride in. But now, in the most critical moment, your nerves were getting the best of you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you looked at Player 120, your voice trembling. “I… I’m sorry. I swear I’m good at this. I’m just… really scared.”

Player 120’s expression softened, and she knelt beside you. Her voice was calm, reassuring. “It’s okay. You just need to take a deep breath and focus, alright? You’ve got this.”

Her words anchored you, and you nodded, inhaling deeply. As you exhaled slowly, a memory surfaced—something that always helped you when you were scared. Turning to 120, you asked hesitantly, “Could you… could you cover my eyes?”

She blinked at you, puzzled. “Cover your eyes? Why?”

You offered a nervous smile. “I promise it’ll help. It’s… just something I do.”

With a shrug, she moved behind you and placed her hands gently over your eyes. As darkness enveloped your vision, you felt a strange but comforting familiarity take over.

“What’s up with this weird ritual you do?” In-ho’s voice was teasing, his hands warm as they covered your eyes back then. “You’re always doing this!”

“It’s not weird!” your younger self had retorted, pouting.

“Is too!” he laughed. “Nobody else does this, you know.”

“Well, I get really scared when I see what I’m doing, okay?” you’d replied stubbornly. “So I thought, ‘What if I just don’t look?’ It helps me focus.”

You smiled softly at the memory, your hands finally steady as you began winding the string again. This time, it wrapped perfectly around the top, tight and precise.

When 120 uncovered your eyes, you felt a renewed sense of determination. But before you could proceed, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“To effectively spin the top, first, you must hold the loose end of the string firmly in your hand,” In-ho called out, his voice carrying an authoritative tone. He paced in front of you like a drill sergeant, his arms folded behind his back. “Next, throw the top onto the ground with a flicking motion. Pull the string sharply to make it spin. Understood?”

You straighten your posture, snapping a salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”

The two of you broke into laughter, a sound so pure and unexpected that it momentarily dissolved the tension in the air. When he handed you the fully wound top, his fingers brushed yours lightly. “Alright, [Name],” he said, his smile softening, “show me what you can do.”

Gripping the top tightly, you turned to him one last time, your eyes filled with uncertainty. He gave you a reassuring thumbs-up and a wide smile, and somehow, it was enough to calm your racing heart.

With all your might, you threw the top onto the ground, pulling the string sharply. It spun perfectly, steady and unwavering. Relief washed over you as you watched it spin continuously.

The cheers erupted so suddenly that it startled you out of your thoughts. Your teammates—149 and 120—rushed to your side, shaking your shoulders in celebration. Their excitement was infectious, and soon you found yourself smiling, laughing, and letting the moment sink in.

“Alright, alright, let’s calm down!” 120 said, her voice mixed with happiness and haste. She led the group to the next station, the victory fueling your collective determination.

In-ho watched from a distance, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadn’t let himself indulge in for years—a flicker of joy, the kind that came from something genuine. Seeing your face light up with relief and triumph stirred something buried deep inside him, something he thought was long gone. He couldn’t stop himself from cheering along with the others, maybe louder than necessary. Perhaps it was his way of masking the whirlwind of emotions inside him, or maybe it was just his heart acting on its own. Either way, he didn’t care to stop.

As your group crossed the finish line. The room became lively again. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound pure and unrestrained, even as the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel it: pride, joy, and the simple relief of success.

Amidst the commotion, your eyes instinctively searched the crowd—and then you saw him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight made your breath catch, your smile faltering for a second before returning, softer this time.

And then it happened. Your eyes locked. Everything else seemed to fall away—the noise, the crowd, the weight of the game itself. It was just the two of you in that moment, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between your gazes.

His dark eyes, cold and guarded the first time you saw them, were now filled with longing, happiness, maybe even a glimmer of pride. It was as though he was telling you, I knew you could do it. I’m proud of you. But there was something deeper, too—something unspoken. His gaze held a vulnerability that he wouldn’t dare put into words, a quiet hope that you might still see him the way you once did.

You felt it, too. A warmth spreading through you, unexpected and disarming. The wall between you, built by years of distance and unspoken words, seemed to crack ever so slightly. For a brief moment, you forgot the tension, the pain, and the uncertainty. You saw him—not as an enemyl, not as someone you had grown apart from—but as the In-ho you once knew.

His lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still held a quiet sincerity. He wanted to say something, you could feel it. But words were unnecessary. The way his gaze softened, the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his presence seemed to pull you closer—it was enough.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, but it left something behind. A spark. A fragile yet undeniable hope.

As you were all escorted back to the main area, you found yourself glancing back at him one last time. He was still there, watching, his expression unreadable now. But you saw the faintest nod, as if to say, Please, let’s talk soon.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. A chance to fix what had been broken. A chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you. A chance to reconcile, to find your way back to each other in a world that had done everything to pull you apart.

Your eyes remained locked with his until the door behind you closed.

Player 149 invited you to join them for a chat, a way to pass the time as the second game continued. With a small nod, you followed them to their little corner, settling on the stairs just behind Player 120. The group was warm and welcoming, and soon you were learning their names, hobbies, and bits of their lives outside the games.

Player 149 introduced herself as Jang Geum-ja, a kind but sharp woman who spoke with unwavering pride about her son, Player 007, Park Yong-sik. Her love for him was evident in every word and action—she had joined the games solely to pay off her son’s debt, determined to give him a better future despite the grim odds.

Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, exuded a quiet yet approachable aura. A transgender woman with dreams of starting fresh, she joined the games not only to clear her debt but also to complete her medical treatments. Her plan was to move to Thailand and begin a new chapter in her life, one filled with hope and authenticity.

Finally, there was Player 095, Kim Young-mi, a soft-spoken woman with a warm, unshakable belief in the goodness of others. She and Hyun-ju had formed a close bond, their friendship blossoming into a dynamic partnership that made them inseparable—like two peas in a pod, finding strength in each other amidst the chaos.

As the room began to fill with players returning from the game, your eyes instinctively darted to the doors each time they opened. Your stomach twisted with worry, though you tried to stay composed. You were searching for Jun-hee and her group, your concern growing with each passing minute.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you spotted familiar faces walking through the doors. Relief surged through you as you quickly excused yourself from the group and descended the stairs. Without hesitation, you rushed straight to Jun-hee.

"Are you okay? How are you? How’s the baby? Did you feel nauseous? Do you want me to massage your back? Or your feet? Need to go to the bathroom? Pee? Puke?—"

Jun-hee's face turned bright red as she raised a hand to shush you. “Stop, [Name]nim, you’re embarrassing me,” she whispered, glancing nervously at her group. Despite her words, a small smile tugged at her lips, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“Hey! It’s [Name]nim!” Dae-ho’s cheerful voice cut through the moment as he jogged over to you.

“Dae-ho! Looks like I owe you a proper thank-you now, huh?” you said with a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing.

The three of you exchanged warm words, laughter breaking through the otherwise somber atmosphere. Nearby, the rest of Jun-hee’s group—456, 390, and In-ho—watched the scene unfold. As 456 and 390 moved away to sit down at their spot, In-ho lingered, his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer before he turned to follow the others.

Moments later, you found yourself joining the group, introducing yourself properly. 390, a man with a friendly demeanor, grinned and replied, “Ah, how could we forget you? Thank you for giving Jun-hee to us. She’s really skilled in ddjaki! The name’s Park Jung-bae by the way.”

Your eyes widened. “Jung-bae? Are you Young-sun’s husband?” You asked, pointing a finger at him.

Jung-bae blinked in surprise. “Huh? How’d you know my ex wife?”

“I live in Ssangmun-dong! I visit your pub often. Young-sun would always keep me company when I stopped by.”

Recognition dawned on his face. “Ah! I remember now! You’re the one who splurged like crazy that one night. You even had to crash at our place because you were too wasted to leave! Young-sun told me you were whispering someone’s name... what was it... In-h—”

Panic shot through you as you clamped a hand over his mouth, heat rising to your cheeks. “Don’t. You. Dare,” you hissed, glaring at him.

Jung-bae’s eyes widened, and with a nervous nod, he raised his hands in surrender. You slowly released him, muttering an apology under your breath as you tried to regain your composure.

Dae-ho and Jun-hee, however, were staring at you, their mouths slightly agape. Who knew the kind person they looked up to was a raging alcoholic? Behind them, In-ho’s expression shifted subtly, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Was it anger? Hurt? Curiosity? You couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty only made your heart race faster.

Breaking the awkward silence, Jung-bae cleared his throat. “W-well, speaking of Ssangmun-dong, my buddy here also lives there. We’re best of friends!” He gestured toward Player 456, who waved at you with a sheepish smile.

You bowed politely, offering a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Seong Gi-hun,” he introduced himself with a nod.

“What a small world,” you said, grateful for the distraction as the three of you fell into an animated conversation about your shared hometown.

From a short distance away, In-ho watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on you, his mind racing. Why were you talking about Ssangmun-dong like it was the greatest place in the world? What about Gyeonggi-do? What about the memories you shared there? What about him?

He paused, a flicker of something he refused to name surfacing in his mind. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn’t be—he wasn’t allowed to feel that way, not after everything he’d done to you. The very thought felt absurd. Yet, the knot tightening in his chest as you spoke to others wasn’t easy to ignore.

A nudge from Dae-ho jolted him out of his thoughts. He blinked, realizing all eyes, including yours, were on him, waiting for his introduction. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture and forced a polite smile.

“My name’s Oh Young-il. Young-il sounds like ‘zero one’, and that’s my number, see?” He gestured to the 001 embroidered on his jacket. Dae-ho raised his brows, impressed by the coincidence, but your gaze lingered on him, a storm of confusion hidden behind your composed expression.

You knew his real name. You knew that he was Hwang In-ho, not Oh Young-il. So why was he lying? The thought gnawed at you. Had he changed his name after getting married? But there was no wedding ring on his finger. Maybe he’d taken it off? No, no. The contradictions piled up, yet a part of you didn’t want to accept the truth. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, deliberately avoiding you. He was hiding something, and you wanted to know what it was.

The moment was interrupted as the heavy boots echoed across the room. Guards marched in, their presence commanding silence. The atmosphere shifted instantly as the square-masked guard stepped forward.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game,” the guard began, his voice monotone yet eerily loud. He pressed a button on a remote, and the massive piggy bank descended from the ceiling once again. Wads of cash began to tumble into the glass container, the sound of bills hitting each other. Eyes across the room were glued to the spectacle, greed and desperation lighting up every face.

“The results of the second game are as follows: 110 players were eliminated. Therefore the total prize money accumulated is now 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Despite the staggering amount, you couldn’t shake the pit forming in your stomach. 78.8 million won. It was a fortune—more money than you could have ever imagined—but instead of relief, all you felt was disgust.

How could you be thinking about the money when 110 people had just died? Faces flashed in your mind, the terrified screams, the sight of bodies collapsing. And yet, here you were, wondering if it was enough to pay off your debts. The thought sickened you, and your throat tightened as bile threatened to rise. When did I become this person? You had stepped into the games for survival, for a better future, but now you couldn’t tell where desperation ended and greed began. The numbers on the screen blurred as hot tears welled in your eyes, your breaths coming quicker. I’m no better than the ones who created this place. Am I even human anymore? You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to silence the spiraling thoughts, but they refused to stop.

You felt your body tremble, your vision narrowing as the room seemed to tilt around you. The walls felt closer, the hum of voices blurring into a distant buzz that drummed in your ears. Every blink brought a sting to your eyes, tears welling and threatening to spill over. You tried to focus—on the floor beneath your feet, the faint pattern of the tiles, anything—but it all blurred together, a haze of shapes and colors you couldn’t ground yourself in. Deep breaths came shallow, catching in your throat, each inhale fighting against the tightness in your chest. Your hands twitched at your sides, desperate for something to hold onto, but all they found was empty air. You whispered to yourself, hollow words of comfort you couldn’t even hear over the pounding of your heart. Your pulse throbbed in your ears, drowning out everything else. All you could feel was the weight of guilt pressing down on you, the silent judgment of the room—even if it existed only in your mind. You were spiraling, untethered, a storm of shame and helplessness that swallowed everything in its path.

Suddenly, a hand gently rested on your shoulder. The warmth startled you, and you whipped your head around to find its source. It was him. In-ho. Or Young-il, as he’d introduced himself. But he wasn’t looking at you; his head was turned toward the commotion among the players, who were now arguing loudly about the rules. His hand, though, remained on your shoulder, steady and deliberate.

Before you could process it, he began to rub your shoulder in slow, soothing circles. His fingers worked gently, almost instinctively, massaging the tension from your stiff muscles. You stared at him, stunned into silence. His expression remained neutral, his attention seemingly elsewhere, but his touch told a different story.

After all these years, he remembered. He remembered how you used to freeze up during moments of intense stress, how just a simple touch—steady and grounding—could help you calm down. You hadn’t needed to explain it to him back then; it was something he’d noticed, something he’d done instinctively. And now, after everything, he was still the same. His hand stayed on your shoulder, firm yet gentle, just like before.

He remembered how you hated when people stared at you in moments of weakness, so he kept his eyes elsewhere. He knew you felt exposed, ashamed even, as if everyone was silently judging you, so he never let that happen. 

He remembered how you felt guilty for needing comfort, for drawing attention to yourself, so he never made a big deal of it. No words, no questions—just a quiet, unwavering presence that said, I’m here.

And you were thankful for that, more than you could ever put into words. It gave you hope. Hope that maybe, after all these years, there is still something left between you. 

With a grateful nod, you looked away as his hand left your shoulder, already missing his warmth. The commotion around you had ended, and people were drifting back into small groups, discussing their next move. You knew you had to focus, to think through the decision, but your mind felt like it was breaking into pieces. Should I vote X? If it wins, you’d leave with 78 million won—not nearly enough to erase your debt, but at least it would mean you were alive. Or should I vote O? That meant continuing the games. No guarantee of survival, but a chance at something greater—a chance to fix everything.

You tilted your head to gaze at the piggy bank hanging above, its glowing light taunting you. Before you could fully weigh your options, a conversation behind you caught your attention.

“Oh, don’t worry. I want to stop here,” In-ho’s voice said casually.

You froze, listening.

“I should go and be with my wife at the hospital,” he added.

Oh.

It was like someone had snuffed out the flicker of hope you’d just found. The energy drained from your body in one cruel wave as the words settled in. A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, and you swallowed it down, shaking your head. Of course, he has a wife. How could you have thought otherwise? You felt like a fool for hoping, for thinking even for a second that those small moments meant something more.

Dae-ho’s voice broke your spiraling thoughts. “I’m telling you, we’ll get out this time,” he said with determination, tugging at the patch on his jacket like it was the source of all his problems. “A marine should think strategically and know when to retreat,” he added, giving Jung-bae a playful shake.

Jung-bae, looking utterly rattled, nodded weakly. “R-right… that’s true,” he muttered, though his nervous glances betrayed his doubts.

“We have to end the games here,” Gi-hun said firmly, stepping into the circle of your group. His eyes met yours briefly, and you nodded. It was a silent agreement, one that seemed to lift his spirits slightly.

In-ho, standing off to the side, watched the exchange with something that could only be described as malice.

Dae-ho clapped his hands, calling everyone back to attention. “Alright, let’s huddle up!” he said with a grin, thrusting his hand into the middle.

One by one, everyone joined in. Your hand landed just below In-ho’s, and you tried not to think about it, about how the warmth of his hands made you feel .

“In one, two, three… Victory at all costs!”

“Victory at all costs!”

“This time the vote will begin with Player 001. Please cast your vote.”

All eyes turned to him, including yours. In-ho met your group’s collective gaze with a calm, unreadable expression before walking up to the platform. Without hesitation, he pressed the X button. The distinct chime echoed in the room as the counter for X increased by one.

The next player—Player 006—stepped forward. Without much deliberation, they also pressed X, their vote adding another mark to the tally.

“Player 007.”

Your eyes flicked upward at the familiar number. It was one of your teammates from the second game, Yong-sik. You spotted him in the crowd, watching him lean down to exchange hushed words with his mother. Her expression was tight, desperate, begging him to vote X but he simply nodded before walking to the machine. His hesitation was visible as he stood there, torn between his choices. Then, the sound of O being chosen played, the button glowing bright blue as his vote was registered.

Your heart sank as you saw his mother’s face fall, her grief and disbelief plain for everyone to see. You averted your eyes, unable to look at either of them any longer. You understood both sides of the story—the desperate hope of a mother to save her child so they can go home and the equally desperate desire of a child to pay his debt fully, leaving his mom with no more worries.

The votes continued, each press of a button punctuating the room like a drumbeat of tension. Finally, your turn came. You felt the weight of the decision like a physical burden pressing on your shoulders. Part of you wanted to vote O, to take the gamble, to fight for a chance to win enough to pay off your crushing debt. But the thought of your group—the first people in years who had truly accepted you—stopped you. You had promised yourself that you would protect them, that they would go home safe to their families.

You stepped forward and pressed X. The red glow of the button reflected on your face as the counter ticked up. You removed your blue patch as a guard gave you a red one. You stuck it to your jacket before, giving a small bow to them before retreating to your spot.

As you walked back, you felt In-ho’s gaze following your every step. His eyes burned with intensity, but you didn’t look his way. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not when you knew the truth now. He had a wife—a life far removed from you. Whatever feelings you might have clung to in the past didn’t matter anymore. You would not degrade yourself into becoming a mistress in someone else’s story.

The voting continued until suddenly, a commotion broke out. Gi-hun stormed to the center of the room, shouting for people to vote X and urging them to end the games. His words rang out with desperation, but before he could fully plead his case, In-ho cut him off.

In-ho’s voice carried an edge of anger as he stepped forward, his composure cracking. “There’s no guarantee you’ll survive the next game! Do you really want to risk your lives for a few more million won?”

The room fell silent for a moment, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Player 100 stepped forward, shaking his head with disdain. “And what if we don’t risk it? We leave here with nothing but debt and regret. One more game, and we’re looking at at least 240 million each. That’s life-changing money!”

His argument ignited the room, and chaos erupted. Voices clashed, some siding with In-ho, others with Player 100. It spiraled into a shouting match, each side growing louder, more frantic.

You stood still, detached from the chaos. As much as you wanted to support your friends, you couldn’t bring yourself to intervene. This wasn’t a debate to be won; it was simply another game of chance, with lives hanging in the balance. The outcome wasn’t up to persuasion or reason. It was up to luck.

Finally, the vote was tallied. O won against X by a wide margin, 139 to 115.

Your stomach churned, fear creeping in as you processed what it meant. You weren’t scared for yourself but for Jun-hee, her kind heart too soft for the brutality of these games. You weren’t worried about your own safety but for Dae-ho, whose unwavering faith in others had been betrayed as Jung-bae—someone he admired and respected—voted O.

When the vote ended, your group regrouped, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions. You found yourself behind Jun-hee as she ate her portion of the day’s dinner. Her small frame trembled, though she tried to hide it, her hands shaking as she clutched the bread's wrapper.

Without a word, you placed your hands on her shoulders, massaging gently to ease her tension. You moved to her lower back, your fingers pressing lightly, offering what little comfort you could in such a bleak moment. She didn’t say anything, but the way her breathing slowed told you that it helped, even just a little.

Without a second thought, Dae-ho stood up, his face conflicted as he grabbed Jung-bae by the arm and dragged him over to your group. His eyes darted nervously between you, Jun-hee, Young-il, and Gi-hun before his gaze softened, and he let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, [Name], Jun-hee, Young-il,” he started, his voice low, his words laced with guilt. “Gi-hun, I’m sorry…” His apology hung in the air, sincere but laced with discomfort.

He went on to explain his decision to vote O, his voice shaky but determined. “You see, I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors have been harassing my ex-wife and kid. They’re threatening them, and if I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle the debt. So…” His words trailed off, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes.

Before you could speak up in defense of Jung-bae, In-ho cut him off, his frustration still fresh from the earlier commotion. His tone was cold, a sharp edge beneath the calm exterior. “Jung-bae,” he started, his voice low but heavy with disappointment. “You of all people shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t twice as righteous.”

You felt a twinge of sympathy for Jung-bae, but In-ho’s words were true. Deep down, you understood why In-ho was so disappointed.

In-ho’s gaze flicked back to Jung-bae as he continued, his words almost regretful. “But looking at the results, even if you two voted against it, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right? So it’s not really our fault,” Jung-bae quickly added, eager to find any shred of justification. He seemed relieved, like the pressure had been lifted slightly, but his eyes flickered nervously to the others, waiting for confirmation.

Dae-ho, who had been silently observing, scratched his head and gave Jung-bae a comforting pat on the shoulder. His movements were casual, though his eyes were thoughtful. “Honestly, I get why you did it. 78 million won isn’t enough. So when I went to vote, I really thought about going for ‘O’ too.”

You nodded in agreement, a soft murmur of approval escaping you. You understood the temptation, the overwhelming urge to fight for more when it felt like everything was slipping away. The money was too much to ignore.

Seeing the subtle nods of agreement from the group, Jung-bae’s confidence grew. He straightened his posture, eager to make up for his earlier decision. “Next game, I promise. I’ll—”

“Next game?” Gi-hun’s voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with a quiet intensity. “Next game, we might have to kill each other.”

The room went completely still. Everyone froze, the silence thick and suffocating. Gi-hun’s words hung in the air, their weight sinking into each of you. He was right, and the grim truth of it was enough to stop all conversation. There was no sugarcoating it. The next round could very well be the end, and the thought was unbearable.

The quiet that followed was heavy, the dread and uncertainty sinking into your bones. You couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver run down your spine, the magnitude of what was to come settling over you like a thick fog.

Annoyed by the uncomfortable pause, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. We all know there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just stay focused. We need to eat, get ourselves together, and prepare for the next round.”

The group seemed to agree with your statement, the momentary discomfort fading as they all began to refocus.

In-ho, ever the quiet observer, handed his milk carton to Jun-hee without a word, his gaze flicking to her briefly before he looked away. “I don’t drink plain milk,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the gesture was nothing more than a small, unnoticed act.

Jung-bae, following suit, offered his bread to Jun-hee as well, his eyes shadowed with guilt. “I don’t deserve to eat,” he said with an awkward chuckle, trying to mask the heaviness of his words with forced humor.

You watched the exchange, your heart twisting slightly, but before you could speak, Dae-ho leaned in, his voice light but with an edge of concern. “I’ll take the milk carton?”

When Jung-bae shot him a glare, Dae-ho hesitated, then pulled back, not wanting to push it further.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of what was ahead. The uncertainty, the danger—it all felt too much. But in this moment, you focused on your meal, knowing it was the only thing you could control for now.

You found yourself sitting beside Dae-ho, your bread in hand, chewing quietly as you both took a brief moment of respite. Dae-ho seemed lost in thought, his eyes darting toward you, hesitant yet full of unasked questions.

“If you have any questions, just ask me, Dae-ho,” you said, offering a small smile. “I’m not gonna bite, you know?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, caught off guard by your casual invitation. But he took a deep breath, calm now, and turned to face you fully. “Do you have kids at home, [Name]nim?” he asked, his voice low but sincere. “It’s just... whenever I see you with Jun-heesii, it reminds me of my mother taking care of me and my four sisters.”

You hesitated, feeling a slight pang of discomfort as you realized the question would require a vulnerable answer. In-ho, sitting nearby, seemed to listen in, his curiosity piqued. Part of him, though, wished you didn’t have any children, that you weren’t settled in on with somebody, a selfish thought he quickly pushed away.

“Ah, this is embarrassing,” you murmured, a soft laugh escaping you as you fidgeted with your bread. “I actually don’t have any kids or a husband... I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Boys don’t really look at me like that, if you know what I mean. Life wasn’t that nice to me, especially after we moved. I didn’t have the time or luck for any of that…”

Dae-ho’s expression softened with guilt. He immediately regretted asking the question, but when he saw the faint longing in your eyes, he paused. There was something more behind your words—something unspoken, something that told him you longed for a family, for the chance to live that dream.

In-ho, overhearing, felt a pang in his chest. What had happened to you? He knew things had ended badly between the two of you, but he never expected life to treat you so harshly. You were kind, generous, and had always believed in the goodness of people. He couldn’t understand why life had been so difficult for you. You didn’t deserve that.

Before the silence could grow any heavier, Jung-bae mischievously broke it with a suggestion. “Well, if you like, I can set you up with someone back in Ssangmun-dong. Right, Gi-hun?”

Gi-hun, who had been quiet up until then, blinked in surprise, his confusion evident. “Huh? Who?”

“You know! Sang-woo! The Pride of Ssangmun-dong!” Jung-bae grinned, clearly amused by his own suggestion. “I think he and [Name] would make a great couple, don’t you think?”

At the mention of Sang-woo, Gi-hun’s face shifted. His expression faltered, a wave of guilt and sadness clouding his features. A pained smile tugged at his lips as he nodded absently. “Yeah... I think so too,” he murmured, his mind clearly elsewhere as he drifted off into his own thoughts.

The sudden change in Gi-hun’s demeanor caught your attention. His usual angry and tense self had been replaced with something quieter, a deep sadness that seemed to pull at him. You looked to Jung-bae for an explanation, your brows furrowed in concern.

In a soft voice, Jung-bae filled in the blanks. “Gi-hun and Sang-woo were childhood friends, but... he’s been missing for years.”

You nodded, understanding the pain behind Gi-hun’s words. You could relate to that feeling—the ache of a long-lost connection. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your own heart as well. Even though the lost connection was right in front of you, and he still felt so far away.

Gi-hun’s sadness wasn’t a good look on him. He was always either grumpy or happy, never in between. You wanted to change that. You thought back to when you missed In-ho so much, you’d drown your sorrows in alcohol and chatter to Young-sun about him. Maybe, just maybe, getting Gi-hun to talk about Sang-woo could help him, even if it was just for a little while.

“Hey, Gi-hun,” you called softly, breaking the silence. “Tell me more about this Sang-woo guy. Who knows, maybe we’d click together, you know?”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your question. But something in his gaze softened as he began to talk. He recounted bits and pieces of his childhood with Sang-woo, his voice lighting up with nostalgia. His eyes shined as he described his friend’s strengths, quirks, and all the little memories they shared.

From the way Gi-hun spoke, you could see how much Sang-woo meant to him. The same way you felt about In-ho, the weight of love and loss behind every word. You silently prayed for their reunion. Gi-hun deserved happiness, and you wished for him to find it—whether through Sang-woo or another way.

In-ho’s jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes. If they were going to give you a partner, they should give you someone who can protect you—someone who knows you, your likes and dislikes, your type... His thoughts were possessive— jealous. His hands clenched into fists, though he forced himself to stay composed. He wasn’t sure why the thought of you with someone else hurt so much, but it did. It hurt more than he was willing to admit.

As the conversation shifted and laughter filled the space, In-ho stayed silent, the weight of his unspoken emotions heavy in the air. The conversation ended when they all went to the bathroom, leaving you and Jun-hee alone. She wasted no time asking a question that had been bothering her ever since she noticed something strange.

“[Name]nim, do you know Young-ilnim? Like, before the games?”

You were taken aback, your surprise evident in the way your eyes widened. What prompted her to ask such a thing?

“No, not that I remember,” you replied, a small ache tugging at your chest. It was hard to say those words. “Why do you ask?”

Jun-hee hesitated, her gaze flickering down to her hands. “It’s just that… I always see Young-ilnim looking at you, or staring at you. Especially when you helped me during the second game. His stare... it was like there was something there.” She trailed off, her voice quiet, unsure if she had crossed a line. “I thought you two might know each other. Sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, no... don’t apologize, Jun-hee. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassured her with a small smile. “Maybe I just remind him of someone?”

The conversation shifted, and though the topic ended there, you couldn’t help but linger on what Jun-hee said. In-ho, looking at you? Your mind spun with questions that you couldn't quite answer. But before you could dive deeper into your thoughts, the group returned from the bathroom, and the moment was gone.

Gi-hun gathered everyone, asking them to bring their mattresses and bedding to your designated spot. You all exchanged confused looks but did as instructed, gathering pillows and blankets. It was clear there was something important going on, and it wasn’t lost on anyone.

As you and Jun-hee handed out the bedding, the tension in the air grew. Jung-bae spoke up. “Hey, is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under here.”

Gi-hun continued setting down blankets without looking up. “Once the lights go out, someone might attack us.”

His words grabbed everyone's attention, and you paused, glancing around. Dae-ho, curiosity now evident in his eyes, asked, “Why would anyone do that?”

“The prize money goes up every time someone dies. It’s part of the game they designed,” Gi-hun explained, his voice tense with the weight of the situation.

You frowned, the idea feeling far-fetched at first. But as you thought about the desperation you’d seen in people—and the way some of the others eyed the prize board with hunger—it started to make a disturbing kind of sense. Gi-hun’s words seemed to settle over the group like a cold shiver, but In-ho wasn’t convinced. “Gi-hun, I think you're overreacting,” he said, shaking his head. “Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun turned to him sharply, fury in his eyes. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here, you have no idea how people can change in a place like this…”

In-ho trailed off, looking away, clearly uncomfortable. “I see… I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, but Gi-hun, though still angry, nodded with some understanding. “We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.”

“I’ll take the first watch. You should decide the order for the rest,” Gi-hun added, continuing to spread the last of the blankets.

It wasn’t long after that you found yourself lying on the bottom bed, the silence in the room heavy. You couldn’t tell what time it was, but sleep seemed distant. With your eyes closed, you tried to rest, but your mind kept wandering. You couldn’t shake the thoughts of Jun-hee’s question, of In-ho’s gaze, and of all the tension in the air.

After what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t stay still any longer. You quietly rolled out of the bed, careful not to disturb Jun-hee beside you. As you stood, you rubbed your eyes, still groggy but wide awake. You walked over to the one who was supposed to be keeping watch.

“Hey... get some sleep. I’ve got it from here,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath in the darkness.

When no response came, you paused, your heart beating a little faster. Had you imagined it? You slapped your cheek lightly, half-expecting to wake up from a dream, but the sting was real. This was no dream. You were still in the game. But who was supposed to be guarding?

As you glanced toward the guard, your breath caught in your throat. There, in the dim light, stood In-ho, staring at you with wide, almost startled eyes.

“In-ho...” you whispered, the name escaping before you could stop it.

He blinked, his expression unreadable. “[Name]... sit down, will you?” His voice was quiet, laced with an undercurrent of tension. You did as he asked, your body moving on its own, though the atmosphere between the two of you felt thick with unspoken words.

You sat there, your knees pressed together. The silence stretched, heavy and thick. There were so many things unsaid between you, so many apologies left unspoken, so many reasons left unexplained. Neither of you seemed to know where to start, but the distance between you had never felt more real. You had shared a bond once, and now it was hard to find the words to bridge the gap that had formed.

In-ho shifted slightly, as if searching for something to say, but still, nothing came. Neither of you moved for what felt like hours, both of you stuck in a place neither knew how to navigate.

The silence between you and In-ho lingered, thick and suffocating, each of you carrying the weight of the years since you’d last spoken. Finally, In-ho shifted, breaking the stillness, his voice low and tight.

"[Name], I—I'm sorry," he started, his words hesitant, as though testing the waters.

"I shouldn't have acted like that, not when you were leaving. On our last day together, I—" He stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours, searching for the right words in the dim light. "I was so angry, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t mean to push you away. I never should have let my emotions control me like that, especially when I knew you were going away."

Your chest tightened at his words. The apology you’d waited for, yet feared to hear, was finally being spoken, but the bitterness still clung to you. You swallowed hard, forcing the anger down, trying not to let it rise again. It felt like you were walking a fine line, torn between the hurt and the understanding you wished you could give him.

"You know," you said softly, voice wavering, "I was angry, too. You pushed me away, In-ho. I never got to explain myself, to tell you why I had to leave. It hurt so much that you didn’t even give me a chance." You paused, trying to steady yourself. "I don’t know what you thought, but I wasn’t running away from you. I... I never wanted to hurt you."

In-ho’s eyes flickered, regret and guilt tugging at his expression. His hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed at his side, as if searching for the right words but struggling to find them.

"I thought you were just... leaving, leaving me, leaving us." he said quietly, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know if I could let you go. But you were going, and it felt like I was losing you, like you’d be gone for good. I was angry that you didn’t even try to stay. I thought you had already made your choice." He swallowed hard, his gaze still on the floor. "I thought you didn’t care about me the way I cared about you."

Tears threatened at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was it. The truth you’d wanted to hear, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. The anger you’d carried for so long still clung to you, but in this moment, it was tinged with understanding.

"I didn’t know you felt that way," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I thought you hated me for leaving. I thought I’d ruined everything, and you’d never forgive me for it." You took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking in your chest. A tremor crept into your voice as you fought to hold back the emotions welling up inside you. 

"I understood why you did it," you said, voice cracking slightly. "I understood it at the time. You were scared, just like I was. But it didn’t make it hurt any less." Your voice dropped. "I didn’t know how to feel. You were the one person I thought I could rely on, and then you turned away without a word. And I had no choice but to carry that weight with me."

Your eyes locked onto his, your heart aching at the sight of the guilt in his expression. “I spent so much time angry at you, blaming you for leaving me like that. But now... now I know we were both just lost. I didn’t know how to handle it, and neither did you.”

In-ho’s face softened, his expression full of regret. "I wish I had known how to handle it better. I wish I had been braver... for you, for us. I should’ve told you how I felt, instead of shutting myself off."

The words hung in the air for a long moment, both of you silently processing what had been said. Then, as if a dam had broken, you continued, feeling a rush of emotions that you hadn’t been able to express before.

"All those years... I kept wondering if I could’ve done something different. If I could have convinced my parents to stay. But I was too proud, too scared. And when we left, it felt like the world just... stopped. I couldn't move forward, not without you. I didn’t know how to move on. And I don’t know if I ever truly did." Your voice cracked, the weight of it all coming crashing down in that moment.

In-ho’s breath hitched as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. “I was scared, too. I didn’t know how to handle the idea of losing you. But I realize now... that by pushing you away, I was only making it worse. I’m sorry, [Name]. I’m so sorry for everything.”

You both sat there in the quiet, the weight of the past hanging heavily in the air between you. In-ho’s voice broke through the silence again, softer this time. “I should’ve been better for you. I should’ve told you how I felt, not let my fear take over.”

Your heart ached hearing the sincerity in his words. He was so close now, but there was still a lingering distance between you. His hand hovered near yours, unsure if you’d let him in. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. The touch was like a lifeline, pulling you both back from the uncertainty.

In-ho’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand finally resting on top of yours. He shifted slightly, moving a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze now, something you hadn’t seen in him before. “I don’t want to lose you again,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to swallow hard to keep them from spilling over. For so long, you’d carried this burden of unspoken words, of lost time. But now, sitting here beside him, it felt like the weight was lifting, bit by bit.

In-ho seemed to sense your struggle, his hand gently squeezing yours. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I never wanted you to feel abandoned or alone.”

The words were all you needed. With a shaky breath, you leaned toward him, resting your head on his shoulder. The closeness between you felt like a reunion, a connection rediscovered after years apart. In-ho’s arm slipped around you, pulling you just a little closer, as though he never wanted to let go again.

He ran his hand through your hair, slowly, gently, as if trying to calm the storm inside you. The motion was soothing, and for the first time in so long, you felt at peace. The anger and the hurt slowly started to fade, replaced by something new—something warm.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

In-ho paused, his breath hitching as he processed your words. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his face inches from yours. “I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

You both sat there in the quiet, letting the words hang in the air, surrounded by the unspoken promise of a new beginning. The past wasn’t something that could be erased, but it didn’t have to define you anymore. What mattered now was that you were here, together, in this moment.

In-ho held you close as you let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything you’d kept inside for so long. You felt his chest rise and fall against you, steady and warm, as his presence grounded you. After a long moment of silence, he pulled back just enough to look at your face, his expression filled with concern and curiosity.

“What happened to you, [Name]?” he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. “What happened all of this? I’ve been wondering for years.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as the memories threatened to spill out. But, in his embrace, it felt safer to finally speak the truth. Slowly, you opened your mouth, your voice a whisper against his chest.

“I didn’t want to leave, In-ho,” you murmured. “But I had no choice.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of your past pressing down on you. “My parents... My father left for someone else, and my mother... she just disappeared. One day she was there, and the next, she was gone. I was... alone.”

You felt In-ho’s grip tighten around you as you spoke, but he said nothing. He just listened, offering his silent support.

“I tried to hold it together,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But the bills kept piling up, and I couldn’t see a way out. I was working non-stop, just trying to keep up, but it never seemed to end. So, I thought, maybe a small loan would help... just to get by for a little while. But it only made things worse. I kept borrowing, and the interest kept stacking up. Eventually, I couldn’t keep up at all. To cope with everything, I started drinking. I just needed something to numb the pain.”

You paused, trying to steady your breathing. It felt like the floodgates had opened, and now there was no stopping it.

“After a while, it became a habit,” you said, your voice shaking. “I couldn’t face the world without it. And... I lost everything. My job, my sense of myself. I kept pushing people away because I didn’t know how to fix anything. I didn’t even know how to fix myself.”

In-ho’s hand gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer against his shoulder as if to shield you from the weight of your own words. He didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence settle between you. Then, his voice broke through the stillness.

“I’m sorry, [Name], I wish I was there with you during those times,” In-ho murmured, his voice filled with regret, each word heavy, like it carried all the years of silence and distance between you.

You let out a quiet sigh, the ache in your chest growing as you tried to push back against the weight of the past. The pain, the loss—it was all there, hovering just beneath the surface, but you chose to focus on what was right in front of you now. You chose the present. “It’s okay, In-ho,” you said softly, trying to steady your voice, but your heart was louder than it had been in years. “What matters now is you’re here with me, just like before.”

He was still so close to you, your bodies pressed together in the embrace, his breath uneven against your shoulder. His hand traced the back of your neck, his touch gentle, as though trying to reassure you, to hold you together. But there was more to it—something unspoken, a pull between you that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence, felt so right, and yet, it stirred something deeper, something dangerous.

His fingers grazed your cheek, his touch soft and hesitant, like he was testing the waters. He lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. The tension between you was palpable, and you could feel that silent question in the air, one you had both ignored for so long. Could you finally give in? Could you finally let go of the years that had kept you apart?

You wanted to lean in. You wanted to close that distance, to feel his lips against yours and forget everything else. All the pain, the years apart, the weight of the world—it could disappear, just for a moment. But your mind raced with doubts. What if this wasn’t real? What if it was just a fleeting feeling? What if you were getting swept up in the moment, in the desperation of it all?

And then, In-ho’s lips brushed against your forehead, his kiss tender and almost like a promise. You didn’t hesitate this time. The distance between you seemed to disappear, and without thinking, you leaned in. Your lips parted, and your breath mingled with his as you slowly closed the gap, inch by inch. Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears. It was all so familiar, yet so new. You could feel everything—the pain, the longing, the need. You wanted to erase the distance, to bridge the gap that had haunted you both for so long.

But just as you were about to close the distance completely, just as you were about to feel his lips against yours, something flashed through your mind. The memory of him speaking of his wife, of the woman who was supposedly ill in the hospital, came crashing back. Your chest tightened. He was already married. You pulled back suddenly, your breath caught in your throat.

“What about your wife, In-ho?” Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. The words had been building inside you, but you couldn’t stop them. The questions came rushing to the surface. The connection, the closeness—it felt so real, but how could it be? How could you trust this moment when he had a sick wife waiting for his return?

In-ho froze, his eyes widening for a brief moment. Then, as though realizing the weight of what he’d said, his expression softened. He reached for you immediately, his hands cupping your face gently, almost desperately, like he couldn’t bear the space between you now.

“No,” he said, his voice low and strained. “You don’t understand. I lied to them. The wife... the illness... even my name. I did it for safety.” He explained as fast as he could.

“I swear to you, [Name], I wanted you. I always have. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve been waiting... waiting for you. All these years.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping over everything you had believed. The confession shattered your doubt. The years apart, the silence, the feelings that had never gone away. You had thought he was moving on, that he had a life without you, but now he was telling you that it had always been you. That he had always wanted you.

You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth, and for the first time in years, you saw it—his vulnerability, his sincerity. He had waited for you. He wasn’t lying now. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and in that moment, you whispered, almost to yourself, “I never stopped thinking about you, either.”

That was it. Your hands, almost on their own, moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The hesitation, the doubt, all of it was gone. You leaned in again, this time with no fear, no second-guessing. You could feel his lips, just inches from yours, and this time, it was going to happen. There was no turning back.

But just as you closed your eyes, just as you felt the warmth of his lips moving toward yours, the room suddenly lit up. The loudspeaker crackled to life, its cold, mechanical voice slicing through the moment like a knife.

“Third game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready.”

The announcement shattered the moment like glass and reality rushed in. You pulled away quickly, both of you flustered, eyes wide as reality snapped back into place. In-ho let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. His gaze, still soft from the moment, quickly shifted into irritation.

You, too, felt your cheeks burn with the sudden shift. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all washing over you. “Of course,” you muttered, voice a little shaky. “Couldn’t be that easy, huh?”

In-ho shot you a look, a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “I swear, they have the worst timing.” He shook his head, clearly irritated by how things had unfolded, but there was a trace of humor in his voice that made the tension feel lighter.

You both sat there for a moment, the awkwardness of the interruption still hanging in the air but somehow feeling less heavy. It was like you’d both just come back from the edge of something important—and the abrupt break made you laugh despite the weight of everything. In-ho let out a short chuckle too, the irritation in his eyes still there but fading, replaced by a sense of shared frustration with the situation.

You glanced at him, eyes still lingering as you both realized how close you'd come to crossing that line. But there was no point in lingering on it now—not with the game calling you back to reality.

“Guess the universe isn’t ready for us yet,” you said, shaking your head.

In-ho gave a soft, exasperated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “Yeah, well, it never really was on our side before,” he muttered, then stood, adjusting his clothes and brushing off the frustration like it was nothing.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before turning your back, to tend to the pregnant girl you had been caring for. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t feel quite as impossible as it had before. In-ho followed suit, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary. For a moment, the room felt like it belonged to just the two of you again. But the third game was calling, and you both knew you had to face it. Together, this time.

The third game was Mingle. A game where you had to form pairs based on a number assigned and get into a room within 30 seconds. As the platform spun beneath your feet, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you. It reminded you of times spent playing this game with friends back in Gyeonggi-do. You remembered one time in particular, when he had gotten into a fight with a common friend, because of the said game. You laughed softly at the memory, causing In-ho to glance over at you, curiosity in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low but still full of interest.

“Nothing,” you said with a soft chuckle. “I just remembered how Byung-hun was angry when you pulled him off of me, so you and I could be partners instead. Didn’t peg you to be a jealous kid.”

In-ho immediately bristled, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Hey, I wasn’t jealous. He was hurting you by gripping you so hard.”

“It didn’t even hurt!” you teased, but the corner of your lips twitched upward, unable to keep a smile off your face. “You’re just jealous.”

“Whatever you say…” In-ho muttered, stepping onto the platform. You followed him, shaking your head but smiling at the same time.

After four rounds, you all began preparing for the final one. The rounds were nerve-wracking, the tension palpable, but you had made it this far with the help of your amazing group. The platform began to spin, the music creating a frantic rhythm as it played in the background. You found yourself standing beside Jun-hee, instinctively holding her steady to keep her from stumbling as the platform jerked beneath your feet.

“What do you think the next number will be?” Jung-bae asked, his voice alert as he looked around.

Without hesitation, In-ho spoke up. “Two.”

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, glancing at In-ho, silently asking him to explain.

“There are 50 rooms, and 126 people still alive. Everyone will need a partner, but there won’t be enough rooms. This is how they conduct these games.” In-ho’s eyes were sharp, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of awe at how quickly he had figured it out.

And as it turned out, he was right.

2.

Everyone paused, looking around at each other, wondering who would pair up with whom. Before you could grab Jun-hee to pair up, In-ho suddenly grabbed your arm, pulling you along with him. The rest of your group—Dae-ho with Jun-hee, Gi-hun with Jung-bae—quickly followed, all of you rushing to find a room.

You spotted an open door and, without thinking, you shouted. “Over there!” You both sprinted toward it, but before you could step inside, a man suddenly tackled you to the ground. Your head slammed hard against the floor, and for a moment, everything spun.

In-ho’s face twisted with fury as he watched the man try to crawl into the room you had been aiming for, disregarding you entirely. Without thinking, he reached for the man, grabbing him by the neck and shoving him away from you.

“Get in the room!” In-ho shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. You were dizzy and nauseous, the world spinning around you, but you didn’t hesitate. You stumbled to your feet, still feeling the lingering effects of the impact, and forced yourself into the room, fighting through the haze in your head.

But as soon as you entered, something coiled around your neck, a vice-like grip tightening with brutal force. You gasped, your throat constricting as you tried to draw in a breath, but the air seemed to vanish. Your vision blurred, dark edges creeping into the periphery of your sight. Panic surged like a tidal wave, and you clawed at the hands choking you, but they were relentless. Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one feeling more like a plea for life than a simple breath.

The world around you was fading, your chest tightening, your limbs growing heavier. You struggled harder, your body thrashing, trying to free yourself, but the darkness was swallowing you whole.

And then—just when you thought you would lose consciousness—there was a shift. The grip loosened. The constriction around your throat vanished in an instant, and you gasped, desperately drawing in the breath you had been fighting for. The air tasted sharp, bitter, as if the world itself was trying to punish you for the terror you had just experienced.

And there he was—In-ho.

He stood over you, his face a mask of fury, eyes wild and unrecognizable with the force of his anger. His knuckles were white, gripping his fist tightly, as though the act of hitting the man who had attacked you had only just begun to settle in. His face was twisted in a way you’d never seen before. Something inside him was unraveling—breaking.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned on the man who had attacked you, and the sound of his fist meeting the man’s face was deafening. A sickening crack echoed through the room, sharp and cruel, as In-ho’s punch sent the man crashing to the floor. But In-ho wasn’t done. The fury inside him was a beast, a monster he couldn’t control. He grabbed the man by the neck, his fingers tightening with savage force, twisting, until there was an awful snap.

The sound of a life being crushed, broken beyond repair, sent a shockwave through your body. Your stomach turned violently, and your chest tightened, as though you could feel the man’s life draining out of him, just like your own hope of ever seeing In-ho as you once had. It wasn’t just the man who had died. In-ho had killed, and something inside him had died, too.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t move. You stared at him, frozen by what he had just done, your heart racing as the gravity of the moment began to settle in. His chest heaved, each breath coming out ragged and uneven. But it wasn’t the man’s blood on his hands that terrified you the most. It was the look in his eyes. Dark. Soulless. As though he was searching for something—anything—to bring him back to the man he once was. But it was gone. That warmth. That kindness. All of it.

"In-ho..." you whispered, your voice cracking as you reached for him, but he wouldn’t look at you.

His gaze was distant, bloodshot, as though he couldn’t even recognize the person standing in front of him. For a brief moment, you feared you were losing him—losing the man you thought you knew.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

“In-ho,” you whispered again, more urgently this time, your voice thick with unshed tears. “Thank you. For saving my life. Again.”

His jaw clenched, the guilt settling into every line of his face. “I’m sorry, [Name],” he said, his voice breaking, and you could hear the remorse in every word, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, your heart hammering as you let out a shaky breath. “What are you sorry for?” Your voice was stronger now, fueled by a strange mixture of anger and desperation. “That bastard almost killed me, and I’m glad he’s gone. I’m glad he’s dead. What’s there to apologize for, In-ho? You saved me. You did what had to be done.”

But In-ho’s gaze softened for only a moment before it hardened again, his hands curling into fists. He was still haunted by what he had done. You could see it in the tight set of his shoulders, in the way he stood, as though he was trying to hold himself together. But the cracks were showing, and you couldn’t let him fall apart in front of you. Not when you needed him most.

Before you could say anything else, the adrenaline that had kept you both on edge began to fade, and the weight of everything—the violence, the pain, the fear—settled into the pit of your stomach. You threw your arms around him, not caring about anything else. Not the blood, not the death, not the mess that surrounded you.

You held him tight, pressing your face into his chest as sobs wracked your body, uncontrollable and raw. “I thought I was going to die…” you whispered between breaths, your voice trembling with the weight of the fear you had felt. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know what was going to happen...”

In-ho didn’t say anything at first. He just held you, his arms coming around you in a protective, desperate way, like he was trying to shield you from the madness, from the horrors that were closing in on you both. His chest was shaking with the same unspoken terror, his breath ragged in your hair as he held you closer, as though afraid you might slip away if he let go.

You closed your eyes, pressing harder into him, the weight of his words sinking into your heart. But no matter how tightly he held you, there was a part of you that was already broken, already afraid that the man you had just seen—the man who had crossed a line he never should’ve had to—was never going to come back.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered, barely audible. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

You both stood there in silence for a long moment, caught in the aftermath of what had just unfolded, the weight of the violence and the fear finally catching up to you. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you knew—no matter what happened next, you weren’t alone.

After the third game, the group gathered in the makeshift fort Gi-hun had set up, each player lost in their own thoughts. The atmosphere was heavy as they processed the brutal reality of the games. Gi-hun asked Jung-bae to report the number of players who had voted to continue. The tally revealed 56 players had voted O, while the X team remained outnumbered by twelve votes.

In-ho suggested that if six players switched their votes, it would result in a tie, and seven switches would tip the scales in their favor. The tension was palpable as everyone prepared for the vote. When the results were announced, it was a tie. Relief spread through the group, prompting cheers, but their celebration was short-lived.

The guards announced that a tie meant another vote would take place the following day. Dinner was served, and while the group shared light moments to ease their nerves, the tension lingered, a silent reminder of the stakes.

That night, chaos erupted when a fight broke out in the bathroom between the two sides. The O team accused the X team of initiating the attack, while the X team retaliated with their own accusations. The conflict escalated quickly, spreading through the room like wildfire. By the time order was restored, Team X had gained an advantage, now numbering 48 players compared to Team O's 47.

“Two people died on our side,” Player 047 said grimly, sitting down. “We lost three overall, but we’re still ahead by one vote.”

Jung-bae tried to remain optimistic, his voice steady. “As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win tomorrow.”

Suddenly, the announcement broke the silence.

“Attention, please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”

Player 047 turned to the group, his voice firm. “Listen, no one can change their mind, okay? We’ll win tomorrow. Stay strong, and we’ll make it through.”

The group murmured their agreement, but Gi-hun’s expression remained tense.

Dae-ho leaned in, glancing toward the opposing team. “Those guys are acting really suspicious. They’re planning something—I can feel it.”

Jung-bae waved him off. “Whatever. Once we win tomorrow’s vote, it’ll all be over.”

“No. Once the lights go out, they’ll attack us.” Gi-hun spoke, his voice calm but filled with tension.

The room went silent. Player 007’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, They know we’re at an advantage,” He said, voice steady despite the situation. “They’ll try to kill some of us tonight to even the odds and raise the prize money.”

“Then we should attack first. We need to take them by surprise,” In-ho suggested, his tone firm. His words were met with agreement from Player 047, who nodded and added, “We have the women and elderly on our side. If they attack first, we’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”

But Gi-hun raised a hand, his expression grim. “No. We can’t start a fight like that.”

The group turned to him, confused by his sudden objection. Gi-hun’s voice cut through the growing tension, calm yet weighted. “We need to stay calm. If we kill each other, that’s exactly what they want.”

“Who are they? Who are you talking about?”

“The makers of the game,” Gi-hun said bitterly, his eyes burning with anger. His words hung heavy in the air, silencing the murmurs around the room. “They’re the ones who want us to kill each other. They’re watching us right now.”

A chill ran down your spine as you processed his words. The room fell silent, each player lost in thought. Dae-ho broke the quiet, his voice tight. “Where are they?” 

Gi-hun slowly looked up, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Up there,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. You all follow. His eyes seemed to pierce the walls as though he could see straight into them. “The control rooms are above us. Their leader wears a black mask. If we capture him, we’ll have leverage.”

In-ho scoffed slightly, though there was no mockery in his tone. “How are you going to fight them? They’ve got guns.”

“We’ll take their guns.”

“From the masked men?” Player 246 asked, his disbelief evident.

Gi-hun nodded resolutely. “Yes. We’ll catch them off guard. They won’t expect it.”

“That’s too dangerous,” In-ho said, shaking his head. “Even if we manage to steal their guns, we’ll be outnumbered.”

Gi-hun’s gaze hardened. “What’s your plan, then? Sit around and wait to die? Watch as they pick us off, one by one? Is that your idea of survival?” His voice rose slightly, the desperation in his tone cutting through the tension.

The silence that followed was suffocating, each player wrestling with the grim reality of their situation. You could see some heads nodding in reluctant agreement, while others remained still, their fear paralyzing them.

Player 120 spoke up hesitantly, her voice trembling. “Do we even stand a chance?”

“We do,” Gi-hun said, his voice unwavering. “If we strike first, we catch them off guard. They’ll never see it coming. The people running this game think we’re powerless, but we have the upper hand now. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

“How do you plan to take their guns?” In-ho asked again, his skepticism still evident.

Gi-hun didn’t hesitate. His determination was clear, as if he had already played the scenario out in his head. “Once the lights go out, we’ll have our chance.”

Lights out in ten.

The countdown began, the numbers pounding in your skull like the beat of a war drum. You lay stiffly on your bed, your muscles tense and ready to spring. Your heart raced as Gi-hun’s instructions echoed in your mind—Once the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quickly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us.

You clutched the edge of the bed, your nails digging into the rough wood. The seconds dragged, each one stretching impossibly long, amplifying the terror building in your chest.

One.

The lights flickered violently before plunging the room into suffocating darkness. The sudden silence was deafening. You could hear every breath you took, each one louder than the last, as if your own body was betraying you.

For a brief, terrible moment, the room was still.

The silence was suffocating, a heavy void pressing down on you as though the darkness itself were alive. You held your breath, every muscle locked in place, straining to catch the faintest sound.

Then the chaos began.

Screams erupted, raw and animalistic, tearing through the suffocating silence like claws raking through flesh. Heavy footsteps thundered across the room as bodies scrambled and collided in the dark. The sound of someone slamming into a metal bed reverberated like a gunshot, followed by the sickening, wet crunch of bone meeting steel.

The sharp clang of makeshift weapons rang out, chaotic and dissonant, punctuated by the grotesque, unmistakable sound of flesh being pierced. It was chaos, raw and brutal, an orchestra of horror conducted by desperation.

You didn’t think—there wasn’t time to think. Instinct took over as you dove to the floor, crawling under the bed as Gi-hun had warned. Your breath came in short, panicked bursts, and you pressed yourself flat against the cold floor, willing the shadows to swallow you whole.

The room was a nightmare brought to life. The desperate shrieks of the dying mingled with the guttural grunts of attackers. Somewhere close, you heard a chilling, high-pitched laugh—a sound that sent icy needles of fear racing up your spine. The stench of sweat, blood, and raw terror filled your nose, a nauseating cocktail that made your stomach churn.

A body hit the ground nearby with a sickening thud, so close you could feel the vibrations reverberate through the floor. You froze, every nerve in your body screaming as you listened to their gasping breaths turn into choking, gurgling sounds.

You wanted to turn away, to block out the awful noise, but there was nowhere to go. Even pressing your hands over your ears couldn’t drown out the terrible symphony of suffering.

The screams were getting closer. You clenched your jaw, biting back a whimper as you pressed yourself tighter against the floor, your trembling fingers digging into the cold metal beneath the bed.

Your heart stopped when you felt it—a hand clamping down on your shoulder, strong and unyielding.

Your blood turned to ice, the chill spreading through your veins. Panic seized you, and you thrashed instinctively, your mind consumed by the singular thought that someone had found you. You opened your mouth to scream, but a second hand covered it before a sound could escape.

For a moment, terror blinded you, until a familiar face appeared as the lights flickered.

It was In-ho.

His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the room with laser focus. “Quiet,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, barely audible over the chaos.

Relief swept over you, so sudden and overwhelming that it left you momentarily breathless. But it didn’t last. 

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, followed by the sickening sound of someone being dragged across the floor. You flinched violently, but In-ho’s hand tightened on your shoulder, grounding you. His grip was firm, steadying you even as your body shook uncontrollably.

The two of you stayed motionless, his presence the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as the violence raged around you. Every scream, every thud, every awful, wet crunch seemed amplified in the darkness, etching itself into your mind. You wanted to shut your eyes, to block it all out, but the terror kept them wide open, unblinking.

Gradually, the chaos began to subside. The screams turned into weak sobs, the sounds of struggle fading into an eerie, oppressive silence. Then came the mechanical hiss of the doors opening, cold and detached, signaling that the nightmare was over.

But you knew better. It was far from over.

In-ho’s hand finally relaxed on your shoulder, and you turned to him. His face was unreadable in the dim light, but there was something in his eyes—something fleeting, unspoken. Before you could say a word, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. Then, without waiting for a response, he crawled out from under the bed, disappearing into the shadows.

You stared after him, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. The display of affection, so sudden and unexpected, left you reeling. By the time you snapped out of your stupor, he was already gone.

The sound of gunfire shattered your thoughts, sharp and jarring, each shot echoing like a death knell in the enclosed space. You curled into yourself, covering your ears as tears pricked at your eyes.

Please let them be safe, you prayed silently, over and over again, the words a desperate mantra. Please let them succeed.

After a while, Gi-hun’s voice finally rang out—calm but commanding—it felt like the first breath after being submerged underwater. “Hold fire!”

The gunfire stopped.

Slowly, you crawled out from under the bed, your limbs trembling so violently it was a struggle to move. The room was a battlefield, littered with bodies and soaked in blood. Your eyes darted frantically, searching for one face, one person who mattered more than anything in that moment.

Your heart leapt when you spotted Jun-hee crouched nearby, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Jun-hee,” you whispered hoarsely, stumbling toward her. You dropped to your knees, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to you like a lifeline, her body trembling against yours.

The two of you stayed huddled together, finding solace in each other’s presence, until Gi-hun’s voice called out again.

“It’s safe to come out now.”

When everyone was told to gather in the middle of the room, you lingered, pretending to adjust your shoes. Jun-hee gave you a worried glance, but you waved her off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right there. Just... something I need to do.”

She hesitated before nodding, her small frame disappearing into the growing crowd.

Your heart raced as you scanned the room, the chaos of bloodied survivors and flickering lights making it harder to find him. But then you saw him—a familiar silhouette, half-hidden in the shadows of a secluded corner.

In-ho.

He was focused, his movements precise as he disarmed a fallen attacker, slipping the weapon into his grasp. His stoic expression didn’t falter as he worked. Even now, in the aftermath of chaos, he was calculating, steadfast, and unshaken.

Your breath hitched. You knew this wasn’t necessary. You knew you should be with the others in the middle of the room like you’d been instructed. But the ache in your chest, the fear gnawing at your sanity, pushed you forward. You couldn’t leave without speaking to him—without feeling the warmth of his presence one last time.

When you spotted him in a secluded corner, hunched over a stash of weapons he was collecting from fallen players, your resolve solidified. Silently, you crossed the chaotic room, weaving past overturned beds and scattered bodies. Your heart thundered in your chest, not from fear, but from the weight of what you needed to say.

Without a second thought, you ran towards him, your steps quick and silent. When you reached him, you didn’t wait for him to notice you. You immediately threw yourself into his arms, catching him off guard.

“[Name]!” he gasped, his voice sharp with surprise as he caught you. He always caught you. His hands steadied you automatically, even as confusion flashed across his face. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be with the others. It’s not—”

Before he could finish, you cupped his face and kissed him deeply. The movement was so sudden, so full of everything you’d kept locked away, that it caught him off guard. He froze, his lips still against yours, the cold metal of the gun slipping from his grip and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you thought your heart might shatter. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he kissed you back. His hands moved to your waist, holding you as though you might slip away if he let go. The kiss deepened, his lips trembling against yours, and you could feel the war inside him—the pull of his duty against the part of him that wanted to stay here forever.

His lips moved against yours, his hands gripping your waist as though anchoring himself to you. The kiss was messy, desperate, and full of everything you couldn’t say out loud.

When you finally pulled away, your breath mingling with his, your voice broke. “In-ho…” You could barely get his name out.

“[Name],” he murmured, his voice low and trembling. “You shouldn’t be here, you know that.”

“I don’t care.” You gripped the front of his jacket, your tears spilling freely now. “I don’t care about any of that. I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice cracked, betraying the lie. His hands shook where they rested on your waist. “But you—you need to go back. You need to stay safe. I can’t…” He trailed off, his eyes darting away, as if meeting your gaze might break him completely.

“In-ho,” you choked out, clutching his jacket tightly. “Won’t you stay, In-ho? For me?” your voice crackled with desperation.

His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. For a second, you thought he might say yes. But then, his face crumpled, and he shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking. “I want to—I want to so badly. But I can’t. I have to help them, [Name]. I have to make sure they have a chance.”

You tried to hold back the tears, tried to be strong for him, but the floodgates opened anyway. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face against his chest. His arms wrapped around you fully now, steady and grounding, even as your world fell apart.

Of course, this was In-ho. The one who always puts others before himself. The one who bore every burden silently, who carried the weight of guilt and responsibility like it was the only thing keeping him alive. This was In-ho—your In-ho. The man who had always been so much more than you deserved.

And yet, even if it hurt, you loved him for it. You always would.

“What about me?” you whispered, tears streaming freely down your face. “What about us? Don’t we matter?”

His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears even as his own filled his eyes. “You matter,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’ve always mattered. More than anything. More than anyone. But if I don’t do this… none of us will make it out of here.”

“In-ho…” Your voice broke, and he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered into your hair, his voice unsteady but full of resolve. “I swear, I’ll come back to you.”

“Please,” you choked out, clinging to him like your life depended on it. “Please, In-ho, don’t make me lose you again. I can’t—I can’t do this… not without you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own uncertainty. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if trying to memorize the feel of you. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Deep down, you both knew his promise was a fragile thing, held together by hope.

He leaned down, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His lips met yours once more, this time in a lingering kiss, slow and deep, filled with everything he couldn’t bring himself to say. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. The chaos around you faded into a distant hum, and the weight of the moment lightened just enough for you to feel the depth of his love. A love as desperate and fleeting as the seconds you shared.

When he pulled away, his lips brushed against your forehead, a soft sigh escaping him as if the kiss had stolen the last of his strength. “I’ll be extra safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his eyes betrayed the agony tearing him apart. “I promise, [Name].”

The promise felt hollow, like a brittle shell barely holding together.

You nodded weakly, though every fiber of your being screamed at you to pull him close, to make him stay. But you knew. You knew who he was—knew that In-ho was the kind of man who always put others first, and there was nothing you could say or do to change that.

“I’ll come back to you,” he said, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as you. “You have to believe that.”

Your voice wavered as you whispered, “I believe you, In-ho.” But the ache in your chest said otherwise.

He took a step back, his hands lingering on your arms before they fell away entirely. The warmth of his touch disappeared as he turned, moving toward the shadows with quiet determination.

Your heart shattered as you stood there, frozen in place, watching him walk away. It felt like every part of you was being ripped apart, your chest heaving with silent sobs. You wanted to scream his name, to demand he turn around, to beg him not to go. But the words caught in your throat, strangled by the raw, suffocating pain of letting him go.

As his figure grew smaller and smaller, the reality of what just happened sank in. The promise he made, the kiss he gave, the pain in his eyes—they all felt like goodbyes masquerading as hope.

As the silence closed in, the thought struck you with brutal clarity. This was the last time you would ever see him.

And it broke you, how painfully right you were.

RAHHHHH I NEED THEM BOTH 😫

Mine

Pairing: The Front Man /Hwang In-ho x Female Reader x The Masked Officer

Requested by anon: Reader being with the frontman, and the black guard just like to tease her and get the Frontman angry. Little did he know that the frontman was watching everything and put them both in their place.

Warnings: Nsfw, Smut, Oral Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Unprotected Sex, Cumshots.

"Mask off."

You obeyed the Officer's command, holding your gaze to the floor as the handsome man approached you.

"How many times have you been here now, y/n?"

"Five, Sir."

"You know, I've always wondered why a pretty, little thing like you ended up here of all places."

"Does it really matter?" you asked and looked up at him defiantly.

The Officer chuckled and stepped closer to you, running his finger down your jawline. You could feel your heart racing at the closeness of his body and the gentle touch of his finger.

"I guess not. But I know why you keep returning. Is the Front Man really that good of a fuck that you continue killing people just to get his dick?"

Your eyes widened and your face heat up. How could he possibly know this?

"I-It's not like that," you whispered and lowered your head.

The Officer's eyes widened in realization and he smiled mockingly. "Oh, I see. You love him. I'm sorry to say it, sweetheart, but he will never love you back. That man's heart is cold as stone."

"And yours isn't?" you asked, looking up at him again. You known for a long time now, that he wanted you. He was always flirting with you, calling you to his office for no apparent reason, just to tease you. And you would be lying to say that he didn't have an affect on you, he was a handsome and attractive man for sure. And a part of you wanted to make the Front Man jealous, to find out if he really cared about you or not.

The Officer smiled at your question. "You're probably right. In a place like this, who has the time to care about someone? But, it can't stop one from having a little fun."

He palmed your face and you held your breath as he lowered his face to yours, his lips nearly touching yours...

"Officer, back away."

You gasped at the Front Man's voice, the Officer only let go off your face and looked at his captain with a wide smirk, not caring about the fact that his helmet was off in front of his superior officer.

"Sorry, Captain. We were just...having a little conversation."

The Front Man walked up to the two of you, placing himself behind you with his hand on your shoulder.

"I do not share my belongings, Officer. And this one belongs to me."

A pang of heat rushed through your belly at his words.

"Oh? Are you sure that's what she thinks too? That she belongs to you?"

"I know so. Because she does everything I demand of her," the Front Man replied. "Now, sit down, Officer."

The Officer glared at the Front Man but did what he ordered, knowing what the consequences would be if he disobeyed.

"Y/n. Take your clothes off."

A wave of heat rushed through your core at his words and you bit down on your lip as you glanced up at the Officer and saw the spark of interest in his eyes where he sat in his armchair with his legs crossed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to calm your nerves. What choice did you have but to obey? And did you really want to disobey him? Opening your eyes, you held your gaze on the floor as you took of your mask and started undressing with trembling fingers, too self-conscious to meet the Officer's eyes.

In-ho smirked where he stood behind you, his dick twitching at the sight of your naked, tempting form.

You shot a glance upwards at the Officer, arousal spiking through your at the sight of his lust-filled eyes staring at your naked body.

"On your knees, y/n."

Cheeks flushed, you obeyed his command and dropped down to the floor.

In-ho smirked and lifted your chin, his voice dark and husky as he spoke again.

"Open that pretty mouth of yours."

You obeyed again, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue as the Front Man zipped down his slacks and took out his cock.

The Front Man tapped the head of his cock against your tongue. You flicked your tongue across the slit of the head, earning a breathy growl from the Front Man. Encouraged by his noises, you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Slowly, you started bobbing your head, sliding your lips up and down his length. With each bob, you took more and more of him into your mouth until you started to gag.

"See what a good girl she is?" In-ho smirked and looked up at the Officer who kept staring at the sight in front of him. "She does everything I tell her to do. Even here. In front of you."

The Front Man grunted and grabbed your head, pressing you down on his cock and bucked his hips against your face. You choked and spluttered as his length pushed down your throat. The Front Man growled and released the grip on your head, allowing you to breathe. Gasping for air, you stared up at him and glanced over at the officer. A pang of heat rushed through your belly when you saw the cock in his hand, his brown eyes focused on you as he stroke himself.

The Front Man wrapped his hand around your throat and forced you to look at him. You gasped and stared up at the masked man.

"See how much he enjoys seeing your mouth wrapped around my cock? I bet he's gonna love seeing me ravage you."

"Please...," you whimpered, squeezing your thighs together to lighten the throbbing arousal.

"What's that?" The Front Man snickered and lowered his hand down between your legs, slipping his long finger through your wet folds and into your soaked pussy. You gasped and grabbed his arm, moaning with pleasure at finally having something inside your aching core. In-ho growled at the sensation of your spongy flesh gripping his finger and the sloppy noises your pussy was making as he moved his finger inside you.

"You're absolutely drenched. You want me inside you, little one?"

"Y-Yes, Sir...please...," you mewled, nearly sobbing as you desperately rode his finger.

The Front Man chuckled and removed his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and greedy for more. Your blurry mind was abruptly woken by his cock plunging into you from behind. Back arching and eyes widening, you looked at him over your shoulder, at the erotic sight of him crouching above you and pounding his cock into your gaping, soppy count. You caught something in the corner of your eyes and suddenly remembered the Officer was there. The sight he was giving you sent another wave of pleasure through your belly. He was still stroking himself, his pace faster now, matching the pace of The Front Man's hips. His mouth was half open, his chest heaving rapidly with breathy moans as he watched The Front Man fucking you from behind.

All of these impressions flooding your body and mind were too overwhelming, and you couldn’t control your body anymore as another gush of pleasure swept through your body. Throwing your head back, you pressed your ass back against The Front Man's hips, rutting against him erratically as your orgasm rolled like waves through your body.

In-ho growled and threw his head back at the feeling of your fluttering, clenching walls gripping his cock. He slammed into you one last time, his cock swelling and throbbing as spurts of his thick cum released into your cunt. Your eyes landed on the Officer just as he came, and a fountain of white semen erupted from his cock and painted the floor. You mewled softly at the sight, your pussy gently clenching around the Front Man's cock still lodged inside you as your body relaxed in post-orgasmic bliss. Then, you felt The Front Man's fingers in your hair and you gasped as he yanked your head back, forcing you to look at the Officer.

"This pussy will never be yours, Officer," The Front Man snarled. "You understand that? It belongs to me and I can fuck it whenever and wherever I want. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," the Officer swallowed nervously and quickly put himself back into his jumpsuit.

"Good. Now, come along, little one. I'm not finished with you."

Face flushed with embarrassment, you stood up and scrambled your clothes together, following the The Front Man with your head bowed, already feeling the burn of his paddle on your ass.

Is it weird I love this like alot 😭

RIDE HOME ✦

pairing | dad’s best friend byunghun x fem!reader

summary | late at night, he catches your sneaking out and offers a ride home—but things take an unexpected turn.

warnings | 18+, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, age gap (40 n 19), obsessive behavior, dom!byunghun, sub!reader, sir kink, praise kink, etc.

a/n | hello tysm for showing love to my previous post!! i hope you all enjoy!!! (pretty long maybe 10-15k words idk lol)

the cold air bit at your skin as you slipped out of the house, your footsteps barely audible on the deserted street. you needed to clear your mind somehow; being sneaky out at night and scrolling through your neighborhood wasn’t helping.

you tried everything to stop thinking about him, to stop feeling the way you did. you buried yourself in distractions, surrounded yourself with noise, but none of it worked. every stolen glance, every fleeting touch, every low, murmured word from him had carved itself in your mind, replaying endlessly. you had indulged yourself in everything about him—the way he moved, the way his voice could slip beneath your skin like a secret you two only shared. it wasn’t just his presence; it was his absence, too. even when he wasn’t there, you felt him. you wanted to escape it, wanted to free yourself from the pull of him, but the more you tried, the deeper you sank. he was everywhere now, in every thought, every breath, every ache you didn’t know how to silence.

the street was eerily quiet, the faint hum of distant traffic the only sound cutting through the stillness. you kept your head down, hands stuffed into the pockets of your jacket, walking quickly but not too quickly—just enough to feel the invisible shadows.

then came the low rumble of a car engine.

your heart skipped, your steps faltering as you glanced over your shoulder. a sleek, black car was creeping alongside you, its headlights slicing through the night. you quickened your pace, trying to shake the unsettling feeling prickling at your neck. the car didn’t speed up or pass you. it matched your movements, sticking close.

you chest tightened. you kept walking.

the window rolled down.

“out a little late, aren’t you?”

the voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. you froze, the familiarity of it making your stomach lurch. turning your head around slowly, your breath hitched when you saw him.

he leaned one arm against the edge of the window, his eyes hard, unrelenting. there was no hint of softness, only sharp edge of disapproval that made your pulse race.

“what the hell are you doing out here?” he demanded, his tone low but with a roughness that left no room for excuses. “do you have any idea what time it is?”

you opened your mouth to answer, but no words came. the weight of his gaze pinned you in place, your carefully constructed rebellion crumbling under his authority.

“get in,” he ordered, not waiting for an explanation. “now.”

your feet hesitated against the pavement, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him. you considered ignoring him, turning and walking away—but the hard edge in his eyes told you that wouldn’t be an option.

“i’m fine,” you managed to say, your voice weaker than you intended. “i don’t need a ride.”

his jaw tightened, his knuckles flexing against the steering wheel. “that wasn’t a question,” he said, his tone sharper now. “get in the car.”

you glanced down the empty street, debating your options. run? keep walking? pretend you didn’t care that he’d caught you like this? but something in the way he watched you—like he wasn’t in the mood for games—left you no choice.

with a reluctant sigh, you moved toward the passenger side, your fingers trembling as you opened the door and slid in. the silence inside the car was suffocating, the weight of his presence filling every corner.

he didn’t say anything at first, just shifted the car back into gear and pulled away from the curb. the low growl of the engine matched the simmering tension between you two.

“what were you thinking?” he asked finally, his voice low and dangerous. “sneaking out in the middle of the night like that? alone?”

you turned your face toward the window, unwilling to meet his gaze. “i just needed some air,” you muttered.

“air,” he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief. “you think wandering around at this hour is safe? do you even realize what could’ve happened to you?”

“it’s not that big of a deal,” you snapped, the sharpness in your voice a weak attempt to mask your guilt.

he laughed, but it wasn’t warm—it was bitter, incredulous. “not a big deal?” his hand gripped the steering wheel tighter, his jaw clenched. “you’re lucky it was me who found you and not someone else.”

your stomach twisted at his words, the weight of your own recklessness suddenly crashing down on you.

“why do you even care?” you blurted out, her voice shaking now.

the car jerked slightly as he pulled over, slamming the gear into park. the sudden stillness made her breath catch.

“why do i care?” he repeated, his voice quiet but seething. he turned to face you, his eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite name—anger, frustration, concern, all tangled together.

“because,” he said slowly, leaning closer, his voice like a low growl, “whether you like it or not, you matter to me. and if you think i’m going to let you do something this stupid again, you’re dead wrong.”

you blinked, your breath hitching at the intensity of his words. for a moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. the air between you two was thick, charged with something you weren’t sure how to handle.

the silence stretched on, and he finally leaned back, running a hand through his hair as if trying to compose himself. “just… tell me where you were going,” he said, his tone softer now but no less firm.

you swallowed hard, unsure of what to say, your thoughts spinning out of control.

the car’s engine purred softly as the two of you sat in heavy silence. the air inside was charged, almost suffocating, thick with the unspoken words and emotions between them. you shifted in your seat, your gaze darting to the window, then to your lap, anywhere but at him.

but you could feel him. his presence was overwhelming, every movement drawing your attention—the flex of his fingers on the steering wheel, the subtle clench of his jaw, the way his gaze flicked to you briefly before returning to the road.

your chest felt tight, your pulse thrumming in your ears as if your own body was betraying you. you didn’t understand it—this magnetic pull, this raw, electric energy that seemed to crackle between each other. every second in his car felt like walking a fine line between control and something far more dangerous.

you crossed your legs, trying to steady yourself, but even the movement felt amplified in the charged atmosphere. your skin felt hypersensitive, your body responding in ways you couldn’t control, your breaths coming shallow and uneven.

“you’re awfully quiet now,” he said, his voice low and rough, cutting through the tension like a spark to dry kindling. “got nothing to say for yourself?”

your head snapped toward him, and the weight of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes held yours, unrelenting, piercing through your defenses like he could see everything you were trying so desperately to hide.

“i-i don’t know what you want me to say,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

the corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, more like he was weighing your every word. “i want the truth,” he said, his tone softer but no less commanding. “why were you out there?”

your fingers twisted in your lap, your heartbeat a drumbeat against your ribs. “i just… needed to clear my head,” you admitted, the excuse sounding hollow even to yourself.

“and is it clear now?” he asked, leaning slightly towards you, his voice dropping an octave. “or is it just as messy as it was before?”

you swallowed hard, the intensity of his words sending a rush of heat through you. you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—could only feel the tension in the small space between you two, the way it seemed to pull you closer to him without your permission.

the silence stretched, and you could see his hands gripping the wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening slightly. it felt like the air in the car was about to ignite, the tension unbearable, pressing in from all sides.

“look at me,” he said suddenly, his voice soft but firm.

you hesitated, but the command in his tone left no room for defiance. slowly, you lifted your gaze, meeting his. the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. it wasn’t just anger or frustration anymore—it was something else, something deeper, something you wasn’t sure you were ready to name.

the weight of his stare sent another shiver coursing through you, your pulse quickening as the air between the two seemed to shrink even further.

moving his hand from the steering wheel, his fingers deftly fumbled with the waistband of your pants, the action sending a jolt of shock through you. your breath hitched, and your gaze locked onto his, wide-eyed and searching.

“b-byunghun… what are you doing?” you stammered, your voice trembling, the question barely escaping your lips.

unconsciously, your body betrayed you, your legs parting slightly without you realizing, as though responding to the magnetic pull of his presence.

“this will teach you something about sneaking out, sweetheart..” he said, his fingers stroking softly over your damp clothed pussy, that ache softly for some friction.

“byunghun..” you moan softly as you feel his gentle strokes turn more firmly. he moves your panties to the side, now being able to feel your cunt completely with no restrictions in the way.

“look at you…so fucking wet for me baby…” he whispers softly as his gaze shifts to the empty road and you. his fingers move up to circle on your clit, the movement sending waves of shock all over your body.

“fuck sir…please” you plea as one of your hands hold onto the door and the other his wrist. “what was that, baby?” he asks softly with a smirk plastered on his face, soft chuckles erupting from his throat.

“please sir… i need more..” sweat trickled down from your forehead, the heat of the two of you seeping through the car. having heard your pleas and sounds of pleasure made him fulfill your wish, as he inserts two of his fingers in your entrance wasting no time to let you adjust as he plunges them in rapidly.

“n-ngh sir!” you gasped as your legs tremble furiously, his fingers stroking you wet walls exceptionally. your fingers digging on his wrist, you were sure it would leave a mark but you could care less as your mind was gratified on his fingers curving inside you.

“bout to- ah -cum!” your eyes rolled back as your body arched off the seat. “cum for me baby..” he’d whisper against your ear, his eyes every once in a while meeting your pleasured out state, just as he demanded, his fingers were then coated completely as you came undone.

“you can do it again, right baby?” he asks as he doesn’t take his fingers out, you’d gasp at the overstimulation he was giving you. the first orgasm was already too much for you and it was going a lot worst at the fact he wasn’t stopping. tears brimmed as you’d gasped and pleaded him to stop.

“too much—sir!”

“too much?” he mocked you as he chuckled at the sight of you tears streaming down your face. he was coming closer to your house but before that even happened, he wanted you to cum again. “you can take it baby, i know you can. matter of a fact, why don’t we add one more, huh?”

“you can take three..” he slipped out of your cunt only to slam three fingers into you again, your body lurching forward as you gripped the dashboard. “sir! f-fuck please!”

“good girl..you’re taking it so well sweetheart..” he whispered soft praises against your ear as he felt you clench around his fingers, he swiftly parked the car in front of your house, his left hand abandoning the steering wheel as he placed it on your clit, harshly abusing it.

“ah! n-ngh sir! s-stop!” you’d moan loudly your head tilted back as your leg shook violently. “fuck..baby..” he’d groan, his boner erected and visible, all from how you looked and took everything he gave you.

your orgasm was coming quick and it felt a lot stronger than before, “sirrr—! please—i can’ttt—!” you moaned loudly as your orgasm ripped through you, your body arched and shaking violently. “fuck baby.. you squirted..” he groan against your ears as he licked your cum off of his fingers, body still shaking from the intense orgasm he had given you.

“next time baby, don’t sneak out—and make it so obvious of who you’re trying to forget..”

a/n: okayyy i’m ngl this might be my best work yet and i loved it so much (as you can tell i got carried away loll) but tysm for reading, any comments, reblogs and likes would be greatly appreciated <3

mxymii out!

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.

OMG I WAS CRAVINGG FOR THISS I LOVEE ITTT SO MUCHHHH 🩷🩷

BREEDING — HWANG IN-HO

WARNINGS: Soft In-ho, slightly OOC, mentions of sex, pregnancy, the baby is a boy (for plot reasons), Breeding kink. A/N: I am eating, sleeping, and breathing squid games rn. It’s in my blood stream. Please give me more ideas y’all.

ꨄ After the loss of his first wife and unborn child, In-ho was completely destroyed. He thought he would never find love or have the chance to have a child of his own again…until he met you.

ꨄ While you probably fell first, In-ho would fall harder. Someone who sees a different side of him? Someone who isn’t a cold-blooded killer? He is completely whipped.

ꨄ You probably met outside the games, having no idea what your lover does for work—which he wants to stay that way…kind of. While In-ho doesn’t want you involved in his work at all, you deserve to know the truth, right?

ꨄ Will eventually tell you the truth, and couldn’t be happier when you accept him anyways. He vows to never show you the cold heartless frontman he has to be for the games.

ꨄ Once the two of you are married, In-ho goes crazy for your body. I mean you two had sex before marriage…but now? Man, he absolutely worships your body, as if you’re a goddess.

ꨄ In-ho fucks his cum into you, making sure not to waste a precious drop. He wants it to take after all. Will tell you how beautiful you would look carrying his children while he pounds into you.

ꨄ Really wants to get you pregnant and have a child with you, more than anything. So when he hears the news after returning from one of his ‘trips’ to the island, he is overjoyed.

ꨄ Makes sure your every need is met. If he can’t cater to you, he’s making sure his servants or the circle guards are waiting on your hand and foot. Only the best for his queen.

ꨄ Might even bring you to the island to keep you safe through your pregnancy. He is going to make sure both you and your baby surivive the best he can.

ꨄ Once your son is born, he can’t stop holding him. He lets the little baby wrap its hands around his finger as he gently cradles him in his arms. He may be a cold-blooded killer, but to you, he is just your warm and caring husband.

EXTRA: Your son definitely becomes the next frontman whether you like it or not. In-ho can’t help it. It runs in the family.

BOOMSHAKALAKA🔥 THANK YOU FOR BLESSING MY EYES WITH THIS

Playing Dangerous

Pairings: Hwang In Ho x Wife!reader

Summary: Mr. Hwang does not like it when his wife ignores him. He decides to show what happens when you upset him.

Warnings: Smut (18+) mdni, Yandere behavior, In ho is obsessive and controlling, dub con, public sex, breast play, mentions of captivity and stalking, a bunch of rich assholes.

Take the driver with you.

Did you reach yet?

I'm waiting for your answer.

Swirling the glistening champagne in your claw you leaned into the conversation, feigning interest into whatever story was being told. Mr. Richie, the President of a luxury brand of perfumes was bragging about his most recent visit to Luxembourg; how he surprised his wife by renting one of the castles for the week and how much money he burned through to make her happy.

He stood surrounded by some of the most powerful and elite people in the country as he drawled on and on about his stay. Bit overkill with how much money he spent for your taste but you were used to it by now.

From rare antiques to color vomits on canvases, these were awfully boring people who always talked about the same few conceited experiences. But you indulged in their conversations. You had to appease to them after all.

You had to play the perfect wife.

Nodding your head you smiled, as if you hadn’t zoned his story out completely. It was easier attending events alone. No one paid much attention to you without the loaded man beside you. You prayed that no one asked about why your husband was missing because frankly you didn’t have an answer.

As if sensing your thoughts Mrs. Richie asked, “Will Mr. Hwang not be joining us tonight?” interrupting her husband’s museum story.

“Oh yeah, I’m afraid he won’t be able to make it. He has so busy these days with meetings and that big launch coming up.” You replied.

They raised their heads oh in understanding. In truth, there was no launch. You just lied so they wouldn’t pry too much.

Mrs. Richie clutched her pearls, “That makes me so upset! He has such a strong aura around him, always brightens up the room with his presence.” She talked as if his absence was her personal loss. As if another moment without him would cause her to wither in physical pain.

In hindsight it should have really bothered you. Hearing another woman yearn for your husband should have had you pulling her hair and throwing her to the ground. But your relationship with Mr. Hwang wasn’t like that. It was all only for show; a signed inconvenient obligation. You two didn’t even looked at each other unless there was someone watching.

 “Yes, it is quite upsetting.” You said with the most heartbroken smile you could muster. ”But sometimes you have to sacrifice time-”

As you spoke a shiver ran down your spine. Your heart started beating faster as a knot formed in your stomach. It was as if your body was warning you.

You could feel his presence even before you could see him.

Every single person in the room had turned their heads towards the entrance. His black polished shoes clicked as silence fell around.

Mr. Hwang was the kind of man who commanded unwavering attention. It was impossible to ignore him. Not when he walked with a sense of ownership. As if every living and breathing thing belonged to him.

He was the kind of man who could will mountains to move on their own; the kind of man who could make a ballroom like this feel like a cramped elevator. Dressed in his signature black look he walked in with a sense of control. Every stride oozed power.

Alarm bells started ringing in your head as he walked towards you.

“Oh look he is here!” Mrs. Richie exclaimed. She looked seconds away from rolling her tongue out for him to walk on.

Color threatened to drain from your face as he slipped his long cold fingers around your waist and placed himself beside you. His touches always made you nervous, no matter the months you’ve spent with him. The haunting scent of his strong cologne filled your senses as his towering body pressed into your side like this was the most natural thing in the world.

You dragged out a surprised smile as he bent down to place a lingering kiss your cheek.

“You’re here.” You said finally, a ghost of a whisper.

He tilted his head to look into your eyes and smiled back at you. “When your wife doesn’t respond to your texts, you just have to come find her, am I right folks?” He turned to the group as they all threw their heads back in roaring laughter. It was kind of pathetic how much they seemed to want his approval.

Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake. You acted to feel around for your phone and said, “Really? I don’t remember checking my phone. I must have missed them.”

He just continued to stare down at you with a frown, “You know how worried I get. Should have just gotten you the phone with an inbuilt tracker” he said with a chuckle and people laughed again. But you both knew he wasn’t kidding. Anything this man couldn’t control drove him crazy.

You playfully patted his cheek and laughed. “He is so silly sometimes.”

He simply pulled you closer and squeezed you in his embrace, “I just want my wife to be protected that is all”. People took that as a hint to slowly start dispersing. When the last person left you tried to move away from him but he held still. “Don’t. They’re still watching.”

“Why are you here?” You asked with an accusatory tone.

He didn’t bother answering that. Instead he asked, “Why did you ignore my messages?”

So that’s why he came. The minute you refused to play along like his little doll he had to show up.

Fidgeting with the strap of your watch you replied, “I was preoccupied.”

“Were you avoiding me Mrs. Hwang?” His voice dangerously calm as he drawled on the possibility. He knew how much you hated it when he called you that. It felt derogatory. It was a reminder that you were just another one of his little slaves who had given into his power.

When you stayed silent, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time, I will hunt you down and drag you out by your hair if I have to.”

“Just be very careful with your actions love.” he kissed your shoulder and left towards to bar.

To everybody else he was the perfect husband; the one who showered you with jewels and admiration. Who blindly bought you everything you touched. Your brain itched every time they would congratulate you and tell you how much you lucked out.

How you wished it was true.

The tap water trickled as you stood counting the droplets one by one. You had excused yourself to the restroom, thinking a few silent moments would help you find the energy to go back and attend the event with your husband. But the more time you spent here, the more this little bathroom started to feel like your refuge.

Just five more minutes and then we go, you thought for the 8th time.

The door slowly swung open.

“Occupied!” you called out. But the intruder continued in. You turned around to tell off whoever entered but stopped when you saw those black polished shoe.

Your heart started hammering as his shadow came into full view. He invited himself inside and locked the door in one quick click.

With each step he took forward, you took one back; moving back till you felt the cold ceramic sink hit your back. The look in his eyes was animalistic. You felt caught. Like one wrong move and you’d be engulfed in a huge trapping net.

“So you are ignoring me I see.” Mr. Hwang concluded.

“I just feel a little tired from all this.”

He scoffed, “Do you find pleasure in defying me?”

You looked around at everything but his face. You were afraid of what you might find if you looked at him right now. Placing his palms behind you, he gripped the sink, locking you in front of him. His breath fanned your face as he said, “I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

“I am an honorable man. I have been as patient as I can be but you just make it so difficult” he rasped.

“Do you remember what you said before you signed our papers?”

His jaw clenched as he ordered, “Answer me.”

“I said I would do anything if you saved my brother.” Your body had started shaking.

His eyes sparkled as he grinned deviously; finally getting the answer he was desperately waiting for. “Anything? Are you sure? A lot can happen with anything.”

He dropped his head into your neck and traced a slow line with his tongue, painting your bare skin with his saliva till he reached the top of your neckline. You clenched your eyes shut, your hands closed in a tight fist as his mouth roamed your chest.

“The question is how far are you willing to be pushed my love?” He sucked on your sweet spots as you turned into an unstable block of mass in his arms. He knew you wouldn’t fight him.

He had pulled that one string to puppet you, that one weakness you would lose to every single time. He had you right where he wanted you. Digging his fingers into your hair, he pulled your mouth near his and started devouring you with his soft mouth.

“I hate this dress." He said between kisses. "I hate that everyone saw you looking this fuckable.” His hand glided up your thigh, slowly massaging the smooth skin up and down with his palm.

His teeth hooked around the strap of your dress and pulled them down. When the sleeves fell down, his mouth attacked your already sensitive nipples. He sloppily circled around them through the fabric of your bra. Your hand tugged his hair as he continued to suck. It became impossible to stop the moans escaping you.

 “You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back. I have been nothing but a respectable man to you. But I’m beginning to think that perhaps you do not like it.” His words scared you. He seemed to have taken this as some sort of challenge. The look of terror between your eyes made him rock hard. He forced your legs open with his knee. You could feel his cotton trouser pressing into you through your underwear.

“Perhaps you don’t deserve my restraints anymore.”

Your head fell back as his knees started rocking. He almost came right there when he felt your juices starting to drench his pants.

 “You have no idea how far I’m willing to go. Trackers? Trackers are nothing. I will tie you and gag you till no one can hear your screams. You will be at my complete mercy and no one will come save you.” He moaned as tears started falling uncontrollably from your eyes. He continued rocking till you were a complete sobbing mess.

You should’ve known better than to displeasure him.

He pulled back right before anything progressed further. Straightening his coat he kissed the side of your head. “See you at home Mrs. Hwang.” And with those six words he left, leaving you half naked and dazed. In that moment you realized you had started a very dangerous game in just one evening and you weren’t sure if you could handle playing against Mr. Hwang.

A/N: I wanna play his wife so bad

DAYUMM I HAVE NO WORDS

In Ho headcanons | (NSFW)

Pairing: Hwang In-ho (player 001/the front man) x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, dub/noncon, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. thanos story in the works rn!! I have writers block so to help a little I'm making some hcs 4 this baddie (prob ooc)

hwang inho, the man that protected you from Thanos and his stupid friend during the first day of the games. he shoo'ed them away. stopping their harassment and took you with him with the rest of the group

hwang inho, the man that gives you his milk. reassuring you every time that its okay for you to have it, and it'll help you get stronger.

hwang inho, the man that checks up on you throughout the night. standing over you to make sure you're getting your nights rests. making sure no creeps try touching your delicate skin.

hwang inho, the man that lets touches linger a little longer than they should, whether its on your hands, thighs, waist..his touches feel more than platonic

hwang inho, the man that tells the guards to make sure you stay safe, to kill a player that hasn't broken the rules if they had to. anything to make sure you stay safe.

hwang inho, the man that would excuse himself to the bathroom just to touch himself to the thought of you. whether its your calm voice or plush hands that feel so soft and delicate...he just couldn't help it.

hwang inho, the man that squeezes your thighs when no ones looking...and when you express discomfort he used his past generosity as an excuse for it.

hwang inho, the man that will kiss you in the middle of the night with no warning. telling you to be quiet and take the kiss because if it were any other man it would've been worse.

hwang inho, the man that will find the perfect timing to sneak away from everyone else with you. he'll make you strip for him in the bathroom. savoring every inch of your body before he sends you away, leaving him in there alone to masturbate.

hwang inho, the man that wont let you sleep. he'll grope and squeeze your thighs, tits and ass. feeling you up while you hold in tears.

hwang inho, the man that reminds you this is your fault when you cry to him during a bathroom strip session. expressing how uncomfortable this makes you and how you don't want it anymore.

hwang inho, the man that will tell you nothing in the world is free. and your body will be the payment he receives for being so generous with you.

hwang inho, the man that gets hard thinking about your age gap. how youre only 19 and he's in his 40's..he loves it.

hwang inho, the man that slips his fingers inside of you when the lights are off, fingering you aggressively. reminding you once again that it'd be so much worse if he wasn't such a nice man.

hwang inho, the man that captures you during the raid against the guards. forcing you to stare into the eyes of your past friends as he kills them.

hwang inho, the man that keeps you as his pet after the games end. reminding you you're lucky because he spoils you with money.

hwang inho, the man that doesn't let you socialize with anyone after he's gotten his grip on you.

Another not: this one is pretty short compared to my last fic, this was to just try n get me out of writers block. expect a Thanos fic to pop up tmr. sorry if this sucked/was ooc, I tried my best T T~~

‘TILL THE END

hwang in-ho x wife!reader

you played the games before your husband played in 2015. the money you won was enough to convince your husband to play and stay as the frontman. but not without you by his side.

─────౨ৎ─────

faking your death isn’t as hard as it seems to be. is just as easy as a disappearance

you had been missing for a while. everyone had been worried. your parents,your siblings, and especially your husband. the moment he saw you, he felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

then the questions started, "where have you been? do you even know how worried I was? ". which you could only answer by showing him the fruit of your success. the 45.6 billion won in your bank account made him go completely silent from his long rant.

although he didn’t seem to believe the place you were describing, which was quite understandable, you knew exactly what would.

"join the games", you had whispered to him in between kisses. "I’ll help you find the salesman. but please. just join the games." and so he did exactly what his wife told him to do.

that is when the opportunity of becoming the frontman was offered to him.

leaving your old life behind was part of the contract. his old life, meaning you and everyone he’s ever loved, they had told him. he had immediately refused. if you weren’t allowed to join him, he would never step foot on that island again.

to you, this had been the best decision you had ever made as a couple. you were ready to spend the rest of your life beside him. helping him control the games, the players,but especially having your own little family grow up on that island

─────౨ৎ─────

a/n: its almost midnight and i cant go to sleep . so this is what i do instead. btw this is not proof read so if there’s any mistakes let me know!!

02 - a piece of me | just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

|| masterlist ||

previous chapter | next chapter

——

The room was cold. Not from temperature, but from design — sterile and steel-lined, walls pressed tight in perfect symmetry, not a single window to the world outside. You sat among dozens of other guards, each clad in the identical matte uniform, each face hidden behind a black visor with a single geometric shape. You were in a sea of circles - a hierarchy forged not in character, but in obedience.

You felt your breath fog slightly beneath the mask. Even now, after years of wearing it, there were moments it felt like a muzzle.

Then, the door at the far end hissed open, revealing the creator, host, and God of this hell.

Oh Il-nam.

His hair was thinner now, his skin clung tighter to the ridges of his skull, but his eyes — sharp, glinting like polished glass — scanned the room with that same quiet cruelty you remembered from the archives. He walked with a slight limp, supported by a black cane, his mask tucked beneath his arm like a crown he didn’t need to wear to remind you who he was. He was dressed in deep crimson — formal, commanding, and flawless. The color of blood dried into velvet.

He stood before the room of guards and overseers, calm and calculating, as if he were welcoming guests to a dinner party rather than orchestrating death. He spoke softly, but the room bent toward his words like blades of grass in the wind.

“Welcome to the 33rd Season of the Games,”  Il-nam began, his voice low and controlled. “Do you know what that number means?”

Silence answered him.

“It means that the world hasn’t changed. The hunger still lives. That desperation is still the most powerful currency.”

He paced slowly before the first row, hearing his cane tap against the ground with every step.

“The rules remain the same. The games — Red Light, Green Light. Dalgona. Lights Out,” he paused at that, smiling faintly. “Yes, it’s officially part of the cycle now. Chaos has structure. Isn’t that beautiful?”

You remained still, but your stomach twisted. You remembered the screaming, the way the night didn’t hide the dying. You remembered the man bleeding out on the floor, who now sat behind black glass in a tower above, a Front Man forged from your mistake.

“Tug of War. Marbles. And most importantly, the Squid Game,” Il-nam continued. “You will uphold the structure. You will maintain the illusion of order. But most of all—“ he stopped now, facing the crowd directly— “you will not disobey.”

Murmurs didn’t follow — they weren’t allowed. But the tension thickened. Lights Out was once an unofficial chaos was now part of the rulebook. You felt it all rushing back, blood pooling across tiles, and a hand reaching up in the dark. His voice was breathless, shaking, whispering the words, “Why…?”

“Any form of aid to players, any deviation from assigned protocol, any mask that dares to feel… will be punished.”

You flinched, barely, but you knew the sting was meant for you.

“Some of you have already failed us before,” he said, eyes grazing across the room, almost like he could see behind the masks. “You’re here again because we believe in second chances… not forgiveness.”

The word struck like a lash. You didn’t move, but inside, the fire of the truth burned anew. 

The punishment wasn’t execution, at least, not for you. It was service, a reassignment, and a demotion. A demotion that dragged you into night shifts, into silent bedrooms and glided masks, into the leering eyes of VIPs where no screams escaped and no names were spoken. And every morning, you returned to pink.

“Uniforms and role assignments are waiting in Hall B. You will report immediately. Any delay is noted.”

The square guards began barking orders immediately. Role assignments, room numbers, escort teams, firearm calibration checks — all familiar routines returned like a tidal wave. The masked figures rose, each moving with choreographed efficiency toward their fate. 

Season 33 had begun, and you would do anything just to survive.

——

The metal platform groaned beneath your boots as you stood at the edge of the training hall, rows of pink-masked recruits stiffening under your gaze. 

A row of red carpet unfurled like a fresh wound down the center of the pristine room — the designated “escort path.” Gold-painted chairs lined the simulated VIP lounge behind you, perfectly arranged for the demonstration. Surveillance cameras blinked red in the corners. Nothing here was ever unobserved.

“Position one,” you called sharply.

The recruits moved. The pink guard stepped forward to act as the "escort" was young, shorter than the rest, their voice still trembling. Their grip fumbled over the faux decanter meant to mimic luxury service.

They bowed to the mock VIP actor like a civilian would — too deeply, too slowly. You inhaled sharply through your mask. They tried again, offering a drink with both hands, their gloves shaking slightly.

“Wrong,” you snapped, voice cutting clean through the stale air.

The recruit flinched as you strode forward, the click of your boots like gunshots in the quiet room. In one swift motion, you snatched the decanter from their hands and slammed it down on the tray beside the lounge chair.

“You are not a servant,” you said coldly. “You are a symbol. A presence. A product of obedience, not emotion. The moment you show uncertainty, they will know. And they will take advantage.”

Your words hung heavy in the space between you and the trembling recruit. The rest of the class stood rigid, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

“Again,” you barked. “With your spine straight. Offer the drink like a machine, not a child.”

The recruit obeyed. This time, it was slower and more deliberate. You stood behind them, adjusting the tilt of their chin with the sharp edge of your gloved hand. Their mask tilted toward yours, questioning and fearful.

They reminded you of someone, more of yourself. When you were promoted to square, clean and hopeful, your eyes too bright beneath the black. Before your rank was stripped and your identity erased in silence, not because of failure, but because of mercy.

“Acceptable,” you said finally, though your voice was devoid of warmth.

Training resumed in silence. Hours blurred past drills — posture, presentation, calculated silence. The elite escort role required perfection. Anything less was an insult to the illusion these monsters paid to see.

Eventually, the session ended.

One by one, the pink guards filed out. The doors hissed open, and the cold concrete swallowed them. But one lingered. A square guard, standing by the door with his arms folded, watching you with quiet interest behind the black mask that once mirrored your own.

“They say you were once a square,” he said casually, his voice low and edged with something darker. “What did you do?”

You didn’t answer. He stepped closer. The distance between you was all surveillance and silence.

“Rumors say you saved someone. That you disobeyed for a dying player,” he added. “But they never say why you’re still alive.”

You turned your head, slow and measured. “I follow orders,” you replied flatly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Funny,” he said. “You train them like you’re trying to make them forget what it’s like to be human.” 

You stared at him. “Because being human in here,” you said, “is the fastest way to die.”

You walked away, back into the corridors of steel and smoke, where ghosts wore masks and punishment was survival’s reward. The dim corridor buzzed faintly, the sound of fluorescent lights above flickering like a dying breath. You made your way down the path lined with identical metal doors, the living quarters for the pink guards.

Yours was the last door in the row. Room 427. You keyed in the code. The lock hissed open. Inside was stillness with barren walls, a single bed with starched sheets, and a metal table bolted to the floor. There was no mirror and belongings. Just silence, always silence.

You sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off your gloves like a second skin. Your pink suit was unzipped just enough to breathe. The metal walls echoed with distant footsteps, squares barking orders at newly recruited guards, the crackle of radios, the buzz of the elevator ferrying supplies to the upper floors. But here in your unit’s quarters, it was still.

There was no escort duty tonight. For once, your number wasn’t on the list. That relief was almost as painful as the duties themselves. You stared at your gloves on the bedside table, fingers curled stiff from wear. Blood had once soaked through them. Screams once filled your ears. But now? You were used to it.

That was the point, wasn’t it?

Before the games, you had a name. A life outside the games. You used to dance in the rain.

You lived in colors, not red, black and pink, but golden light from streetlamps, the warm blue of your favorite café, the soft lavender of your tiny rented apartment. You weren’t rich, but you were free. A literature student by day, part-time waitress by night. You wanted to write stories one day. Novels. Maybe even poetry. You dreamed of publishing your own book someday.

Your laughter used to come easily. Your smile wasn’t a mask. You believed in people. Yet in the end, you were the one who stayed.

In a neighborhood where everyone else was desperate to leave, you stayed behind. You watched your friends grow distant and your family grow smaller. It was only one funeral, then came another. Then another. Until the only voices left were the ones in your head.

You weren’t running from anything — there was just nowhere left to go. No final fight nor betrayal. Just… time, taking people from you, one by one. You stopped talking out loud because there was no one to hear you anyway.

So when the pink envelope arrived that was sealed tight, marked only by shapes, it felt like an accident. A glitch in the mail. A strange dream.

But you opened it.

And that’s how it started.

You didn’t become a player. You didn’t owe anything. But you were noticed — someone they could use. Someone who would not be missed. At first, you thought you’d break. But there was no one left to worry about you. No one left to remind you who you were.

Now, you rarely think about your name. It doesn’t come easily anymore.

And maybe that was the point.

——

The order comes like a slap to your already numb consciousness. A square guard, his uniform sharp and flawless, strides over to you in the dark hallway. His voice is cool, matter-of-fact, as if he’s never had to question a thing in his life.

"Fix the Front Man's quarters. Make sure every detail is perfect," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You simply nod, the sound of the mask moving as you lower your head in silent acknowledgment. You’ve been in this position long enough to know how things go. The Front Man’s quarters, as cold and sterile as everything else in the compound, require absolute precision. The slightest mistake, the smallest imperfection, could result in more than just a reprimand. You’ve seen what happens when others fail in front of the Front Man. There’s nothing kind or forgiving about his gaze.

The square guard watches you for a moment longer, as if ensuring you’ll comply, before turning away, leaving you to your task.

You stood in front of the door, taking in the quiet, lifeless hallway. Everything is perfectly still. No noise. No interruptions. The only sound you hear is the distant hum of ventilation systems and the pulse of your own heartbeat beneath the thick mask. You inhale deeply and push the door open.

Inside, the quarters were as pristine as always. It was cold, empty, and unyielding - not a single trace of humanity remains. The room was meticulously organized, the bed made to military standards, the furnishings aligned with an unnatural symmetry, a single chair in the corner, its back to the wall. Every surface gleams, as if the place is nothing but a shell, waiting for its occupant to step inside.

You walk in slowly, your eyes scanning over every inch, every corner. Your mind runs through the mental checklist: lighting, temperature, scent. Every detail is scrutinized until you’re certain it meets the Front Man’s standards. Your gloved hands trace over the desk, wiping away the faintest trace of dust. It’s almost too perfect. There’s nothing left to fix. The space is an extension of the man who occupies it — cold, flawless, untouchable.

You began to adjust the small things. The alignment of books on a shelf, the angle of the chair, the slight shift in the position of a painting on the wall. Every adjustment feels like an offering. Your body is numb to the motion, your mind detached and mechanical.

A sudden movement at the door catches your attention, and you freeze.

A shadow. A figure standing in the doorway, silent and imposing. You don’t need to look up to know it’s the square guard again. His eyes are cold, but there’s something else, a faint smile at the edge of his lips as he watches you.

“Is everything in order?” he asks, his voice like a dull blade scraping against metal.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Your eyes remain downcast, focusing on the smallest of details. The least of your concerns is his gaze, but you feel the weight of it pressing down on you nonetheless.

The square guard takes a step forward, glancing around the room. His eyes land on the smallest imperfection, a slight smudge on the glass of a picture frame. Without a word, he reaches out, wiping it away with a swipe of his gloved hand. His movements are sharp, deliberate.

“You’ve done well,” he says, his voice softening ever so slightly. But you know better. He’s not complimenting you. He’s simply acknowledging your obedience. The look in his eyes doesn’t change — still cold, still distant.

“Finish up,” he commands. “And make sure the Front Man doesn’t find anything out of place.”

The square guard leaves, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. As you turn to leave, your fingers brush against the edge of the desk, and something about the cold metal reminds you of the past. Of who you used to be. Of the girl who had dreams and laughter in her heart.

You barely register the sounds of the Front Man’s approaching footsteps — but you know they're coming. You can feel him before you see him, a presence that lingers in the room even as the door creaks open. 

The Front Man walks inside with his usual poise, the cold mask covering his face, unreadable. His eyes scan the room like a predator sizing up its prey, each movement deliberate, precise, as if assessing not just the space but the person who prepared it. His footsteps echo softly against the polished floors, louder than they have any right to be.

You stand at attention in the corner, still and quiet, as he takes his time walking around the room. You don’t dare speak unless he orders you to.

His gaze flickers to the desk first. He takes a long pause, inspecting the alignment of the books, the sheen on the surface. His fingers brush lightly over the chair, just enough to feel the exact temperature of the room, the subtle pressure of the cushion. He moves with the kind of deliberate grace that you’ve come to associate with someone who knows their power, their dominance, their control over every detail.

For a split second, you hold your breath, wondering what he’s looking for. Is there something amiss? A trace of imperfection you might have missed in your hasty preparation?

But then his gaze shifts to the picture frame. It’s the smallest detail, the most trivial of things. His eyes narrow, his fingers tracing the edge of the frame with unsettling precision. There is a slight tremor in his hand. Just a hint. But it’s enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He simply looks at the picture frame for a few more seconds, as if contemplating something too deep to put into words. His gaze flickers toward the small smudge you couldn’t catch, and for the briefest of moments, you think he might actually speak. But no. His gaze sharpens, and he pulls his hand away.

Finally, he stands still. For a moment, you wonder if the air between you is thick with his thoughts, heavy and pressing. But then, he slowly exhales, a sound barely noticeable beneath the mask. He turns toward you, and the intensity of his gaze makes your chest tighten, your breath stuttering.

"Good job," he said, his tone as cold as ever. "Everything is in order."

Your heart clenched at the lack of emotion in his words. It was a compliment, but it didn’t feel like one. There was no warmth in his praise, no sign that he saw you as anything more than another tool—an instrument to be used and discarded when no longer needed.

"Thank you," you murmured, even though the words felt hollow on your tongue.

He turned his head slightly, his masked face remaining unreadable. "You may leave now."

With a stiff bow, you turned to leave, your footsteps echoing in the silence of the room. As you stepped out into the cold, sterile halls of the compound, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being forgotten.

You were nothing to him, and perhaps that was exactly what you deserved. After all, you weren’t a guard anymore, not truly. You were just a nameless face in the sea of masked figures, condemned to serve in the shadows for the rest of your days.

And yet, despite the cold dismissal, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder: would he ever look at you again? Would he ever realize that you were the one who had saved him when he had bled out during the chaos of lights out?

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized it didn’t matter. He was the Front Man. You were just a guard—nothing more. The distance between you was as vast as the abyss, and no amount of longing would ever change that.

——

A/N: HAS ANYONE WATCHED THE SQUID GAME TEASER? They just dropped the teaser for Season 3! I am SEATED (and also possibly traumatized) 😳 I think I'm going to be insufferable until June 27 because imagine the teaser making us feel like THAT, then what about the trailer 😨 What are your theories for the next season? I would love to hear about them!

Don't forget to leave a comment in this chapter to be tagged on to the next chapter. :)

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|| masterlist ||

taglist: @roachco-k @goingmerry69

i miss the person i was before squid game

with the baby crying at the end of the teaser i just know in-ho saw jun-hee giving birth and is longing for his unborn child

watch my heart brOOOOOKE

01 - no good deed | just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

|| masterlist ||

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----

The room was dark. Not the artificial, humming darkness of the dormitories. No flickering overhead lights, no sound of desperate breathing in the shadows. 

This darkness was deeper, becoming quieter, then still.

Hwang In-ho bolts upright in his bed, breath caught in his throat, chest heaving beneath the black robe of the Front Man. Sweat clung to his skin like blood once did. The black mask sits abandoned on the table beside him, and for a moment, he remembers who he is. 

Not Hwang In-ho.

The Front Man.

But the dream, kind of a memory, doesn’t let him go. He can still feel it — the warm pool of his blood beneath him, the shouts, the silence, and the pain.

And then, there was you.

Your gloved hands pressing down his wound with a whisper against the chaos, “If you live, don’t forget who you were.”

In-ho’s hands tremble as he reached for a glass of water beside him. He had forgotten, hadn’t he? Bit by bit, piece by piece, until all that remained was the mask, the control, the machine. 

But that voice —  your voice — it never left.

He brushes his hand through his damp hair, eyes burning as they stare at nothing. You were just a shadow then, a mask among other masks. A rule-breaker in a place where mercy was punishable by death.

He doesn’t even know your face or your name. Yet your presence lives in the cracks of his memory, in the fractured quiet of his mind that he never allowed himself to touch.

Except in his dreams.

Or nightmares.

He rose slowly, each movement deliberate. There’s something cold and restrained about him now, but the weight behind his eyes was unmistakable. He walked to the system terminal as the soft glow of the screens hummed to life, illuminating the sharp edges of his face, the shadow of grief still etched across his expression.

His fingers tapped on the keyboard as the screen flickered.

Pink Guard Personnel Records: 28th Squid Game

He shouldn’t do this.

He knew he shouldn’t. Everything about the games was built on anonymity, everything encrypted as if you were expected to forget, bury the past six feet beneath protocol and power.

But he couldn’t forget you. 

His voice was low, hoarse, as he spoke into the silence. “Who were you?”

The system begins its search as the man behind the mask isn’t the Front Man tonight. Tonight, he’s a survivor… still trying to find the one person who made him feel human again. 

Lines of data flicker across the screen — guard IDs, biometric logs, movement patterns, shift schedules. Thousands of entries. Most were clean, categorized, and controlled.

But one file stalls.

ID: P-132-20152745

In-ho narrowed his eyes as he noticed the file. He hovered his hand on his mouse as he clicked, only for the screen to shudder.

ERROR. FILE CORRUPTED. ACCESS DENIED.

He leaned closer as he squinted at the file number. He doesn’t recognize the number, but something about it pulls at him. The timestamp matches the night he was injured. That narrow window between the second and third round.

His fingers fly over the keys as he bypasses standard security. Firewalls resist him, but he wrote the protocols himself. He cracks through the surface code, digging deeper.

REDACTED ENTRY: UNAUTHORIZED INTERVENTION DETECTED.

P-132-20152745: Disciplinary Report - MISSING

Security Footage - DELETED

Status: UNKNOWN

He sits back slowly, the air tight in his lungs, realizing that someone had scrubbed the record. 

Not just a name or a face. Just plain everything.

As if that guard never existed. 

As if the system had tried to erase the very moment he clung to all these years.

His jaw tightened, rage pulsing beneath the surface. Not just for the system, but for himself for forgetting, surviving, and becoming the very thing he once feared. 

Still, there’s a silver of data remaining. A slashed fragment of a voice file that was compressed and corrupted.

Yet, it was still playable.

The static nearly swallows the sound, but in the middle of the distortion, something cuts through.

“—wasn’t supposed to do this…”

“…remember who you are…” “—forgive me.”

In-ho’s eyes closed, his heart pulsing through his chest. Though it was comforting to feel that you were real, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to you. 

As his thoughts almost swayed him, he immediately snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a heavy thud. Not from the room, but from the recording.

He sat up as a sharp intake of breath was heard, then another sound that seemed like a hit. Then, another sound that pierces through even the most distorted noise.

A soft, broken whimper. A woman’s voice.

“Please…” A muffled cry as another strike seemed to be done, and then, there was silence.

In-ho froze as his jaw clenched while the recording looped, replaying that single moment of helplessness. Something cold grips his chest, curling around his ribs like barbed wire. 

Someone definitely made sure he wouldn’t remember it. 

The file ends with one last, choked breath — one that doesn’t quite sound like fear, but grief.

“He wasn’t supposed to see me.”

The silence after felt suffocating. In-ho’s fingers curled into fists as the final realization sank in. This wasn’t just a disappearing act.

Someone silenced you, covered you up, and buried your existence under codes and protocols. In-ho scoffed, a smirk forming as if an idea shone all over his face.

They didn’t bury you well enough.

His eyes hardened as he locked the terminal.

You saved him once, now it was his turn.

——

The incinerator hisses as the body bag disappears into flame.

It was either buried or harvested for organs — you couldn’t care at all. In fact, you don’t flinch anymore. You haven’t, in a long time. 

The stench of burnt cloth and blood clings to your mask, thick and stubborn, as if even the scent refuses to die here. You stand still, posture straight, hands clasped behind you just as protocol demands.

You were only a pink circle guard. Just another pair of obedient boots, another ghost in the machine.

Your boots echo softly down the corridor. Rhythm is everything here—footsteps measured, spine straight, eyes forward behind a mask that tells the world nothing. Now, you’re Guard 427.

You swipe your card at the checkpoint and enter the security control wing. The guards here don’t speak unless ordered. The walls hum with surveillance feeds, and one screen, larger than the rest, projects the black mask of the Front Man. You’ve worked hard to become invisible. You are precise in your tasks, silent in your duties, unremarkable in your movements. You erase yourself every day, bit by bit, in service of survival.

Still, you remember him. Not as the Front Man. But as Player 132.

He was bleeding when you found him, struggling beneath the weight of survival. You should’ve walked away. Left him to die like all the others. But something in his eyes that night — numb but furious, cracked but not yet broken made you stop.

You knelt. Whispered. Touched his bloodied chest with trembling fingers.

“If you live, don’t forget who you were before they made you fight.”

And now, he sits behind the glass of power, voice modulated, mask unshifting, his judgment absolute. You wondered if he dreams of you, if your voice ever slips into his nightmares. You wondered if, when he stares too long at the monitors, he's chasing something his mind won’t give him.

You kept your head down and your steps even. You cleaned blood off the walls. You followed orders. You pretend you’re not the one he’s unknowingly searching for.

Because if he ever does remember… If he ever sees through the perfect circle painted across your mask, what then?

Would he thank you? Punish you? Undo you?

You weren’t sure. In a place where mercy was a foreign concept, such a situation of his finding you would cause more complications.

The alarm blared. A low tone thrums through the walls, and every Circle in the hallway stops in unison.

“VIP arrival. Level Six. Escort detail.”

Your fellow pink guards peel off wordlessly, boots pivoting toward the service lift that leads to the opulent corridors you’re never meant to see. The ones draped in gold and smoke, the ones that reek of indulgence and blood.

But not you.

Your earpiece buzzes with a separate frequency.

“P-427, Report to Sub-Level Three. Clearance Sigma Red.”

Sigma Red.

You hesitate for half a breath before responding.

“Confirmed. On route.”

It wasn’t your first time.

You walked alone now, past the steel hallways, the flickering fluorescents, the guards who pretended not to see. You made your way towards the door marked only by a red triangle and the faint scent of disinfectant beneath it.

Inside the room was quiet, warmer, and cleaner. There was no briefing. No other guards. Just a room with a solitary mirror and a rack of clean clothing with soft fabric, unlike your uniform.

“Change. Protocol 09 is in effect,” the voice over the intercom says.

You obeyed, not needing to be told why. 

You’ve done this before. You remember the way the Front Man had just taken the mask then. How his presence had loomed even before you could name it. The first time, you’d done what you were told because not doing so meant punishment. 

You were a standard circle guard who was quiet, efficient, and obedient. Not until that night during the 28th Season where you chose mercy. 

He was bleeding out during lights out where his eyes had pulled you in — the hollow ache of someone who wanted to die but was too proud to beg for it. You broke the rules, yet they let you live.

Only so they could strip you down slowly — the escort class.

The lowest, most degrading designation in the hierarchy of this twisted system. You are masked, dressed in thin civilian mimicry, and handed over to the VIPs—not for pleasure, necessarily. Sometimes just for company. Sometimes for cruelty. Always for obedience.

“Escort detail begins in thirty minutes. Await further instruction.”

The door clicks shut behind you. You sat and waited, listening to the hum of the walls as you wondered, what if this is the time he speaks to you? What if he looks at you a second too long? What if he asks your name? And what if you're too afraid to give it?

The walls here were too quiet. No screams, gunfire, and barking orders. Only silence — deliberate, echoing, and unnerving.

The mask stays on. It always stays on. It's the only part of yourself you're allowed to keep. As you sat, the intercom crackled again. A different voice this time. One you know. One you’ve heard before during your disciplinary hearing. 

“Protocol 09 in effect,” the speaker hisses.

No acknowledgment required. They know you understand.

“You aided a player in the 28th Season. Unforgivable.”

A pause, long enough to let the weight settle. “You will not speak of it. Not to him. Not to anyone. The Front Man does not know. He must never know. Do you understand?”

You nod silently, because that’s all you're allowed to do now.

“VIPs arrive in thirty. Escort mode active.”

You fixed the mask over your face as you changed layer by layer, its garments feel like silk-wrapped shame. 

You remember how, once, your hands shook as they held a bleeding man. The one who now runs the games, one who sits behind a mask of black steel, haunted by something he can’t quite name.

He lives because of you and now you serve because of him.

He must never know.

But you remember.

Every time.

——

The scent of cologne, alcohol, and smoke clung to the velvet of the VIP lounge. The lighting was warm, golden, and suffocating — designed to flatter the depraved. Laughter cuts the air like broken glass. Masks of beasts and emperors lounge across gilded sofas, their voices slurred, their gaze predatory.

One of the VIPs snaps his fingers lazily. You pour his drink, bow just enough, and say nothing — as trained. You don’t speak. You don’t blink too long. You don’t feel.

“You’re quiet,” the VIP, masked as a Minotaur, slurred, brushing his fingers against your mask. “That’s good. Quiet girls know their place.”

You don’t flinch. At least, not visibly.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you slightly closer, examining you like a possession. “You’re prettier than the last one. I like the silent ones.”

You remain still and silent. Fighting the urge to pull away because if you did, they win. And if you speak, you lose more. Your hands rest on your knees as you lowered your gaze.

“You’re not new, are you?”

The question stung, but you didn’t flinch. You were burning inside, but you stayed silent. 

“That means you know not to fight.”

A murmur of laughter from the others. One of them raises a toast. Another gestures toward you and makes a cruel joke about how easily the silent ones break.

But something shifts in the room. The air tightens. The laughter dulls into murmurs. 

The door opened, revealing the Front Man.

Black mask. Black coat. His movements sharp and deliberate. Authority trails behind him like a shadow.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up. You straightened your back, holding your breath as you felt your pulse surge. You kept your head bowed. 

He shouldn't be here. Not during the lounge sessions. Not unless something’s wrong. Yet here he is.

He walked slowly through the room silently as if he were observing and calculating something. His presence stills the most obnoxious of the guests. Even the ones who believe they own this place lower their voices when he moves near.

From across the room, the Front Man’s visor tilts toward you. He seemed to see your… situation. But, he doesn’t stop it. He doesn’t speak.

He simply watches.

You don’t know what’s worse. The VIP’s hand curling around your waist…

…or the silence from the one man who might have stopped it.

The VIP’s hand had finally left your side—only because another escort had arrived, younger and easier to control. You’d bowed out with the grace expected of you, even though your fingers trembled behind your back.

“Go help the servers,” one of the Square guards said. 

You obeyed.

It was almost a relief to stand by the bar cart again, serving champagne, bourbon, whiskey, gin. Anything they asked for. Anything to stop being seen.

“You,” the Square guard pointed at you. “Pour for the Front Man.”

The air around you dropped ten degrees, but your hands moved on instinct. The Front Man stood near the edge of the lounge, silent and still as the walls themselves. You could feel the room shift around him. 

You approached with measured steps, a crystal decanter in hand.

He didn’t look at you when you poured, though you could smell his cologne even beneath your mask. As you were about to finish filling up the glass, he suddenly spoke.

“Stay.”

You froze. You expected to be dismissed. But instead, he stood there, drink in hand, and allowed you to remain beside him. One step behind. Within reach. Claimed without announcement.

“Careful with that one, Front Man!” a portly VIP calls out with a laugh, drink sloshing in his hand. “Keep her too close, and you might find yourself using her for more than just drinks!”

Laughter erupted from his circle as your breath hitched a bit. You didn’t move, and the Front Man didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure if he reacted beneath his mask, but he stayed still. There was no reaction and defense.

He sipped his drink slowly, his gaze never leaving the room. Not even a glance toward the man who joked. Not toward you. But then, you felt a sting inside you.

It wasn’t because of the VIP’s words — you’ve heard worse.

But because he didn’t stop it.

You stood at his side obediently, and he let the insult hang there, untouched. You forced the pain down like glass, straightening your spine. Somehow, his silence hurts more than the joke ever could.

By day, you sweep floors, distribute rations, check that the cameras are functioning. Your circle mask stares back at you from polished metal when you pass the infirmary door. You speak to no one. You salute when required. You blend in easily and invisibly. 

You are not meant to be remembered. That, too, is part of the punishment.

At night, it changes. The suit comes off. The silk goes on. You trade your mask for another kind — faceless still, but far more exposed. An escort — a role no one envies.

No one asks how you ended up there. They already know. 

It’s all because you interfered and saved someone you weren’t meant to. You’re not even sure he remembers. Or if he ever knew. Or if he’s simply chosen to forget because acknowledging what you did would mean acknowledging that even he was once weak enough to bleed.

And weakness isn’t allowed here.

Sometimes, when you stand beside his chair in the VIP lounge and pour his drink, you think about that moment in the dark, years ago. When he was gasping, wounded, barely clinging to life behind a player’s uniform soaked in blood. And you chose to help.

That was the night your position was stripped from you.

Because you weren’t always a circle.

Your hands remember how to hold a gun with authority. Your voice remembers how to give orders.

You were a square.

You remember the weight of command.

But mercy is a betrayal in this place, and your punishment is to be seen and not recognized. It is for you to serve quietly the man you once saved and to suffer silently each time he looks right past you. 

----

A/N: We're back! This time, it's more of a slow burn type of fanfic so please bear with the story. What did you think of how you're a Pink Guard saving the Front Man back when he was still a player and him trying to find you in the crowd? This whole fic will be based on the events of Squid Game Season 1, as it would be like one of the first years of In-ho as the Front Man. :D

Don't forget to leave a comment in this chapter to be tagged on to the next chapter. :)

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taglist: @roachco-k @goingmerry69

saw this on pinterest but HEAR ME OUT why does this photo just make so 😩

i think i need help but there is something so attractive in this, it stuck in my mind for days

prologue - just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

masterlist | next chapter

A/N: I'm back! Yey! No more sad endings this time, I promise. 😅 Hope you'll like my new series!

----

The night fell in the games like a clenched fist. 

The low hum of the fluorescent lights buzzed inside Hwang In-ho’s skull, matching the stuttering beat of his heart. Blood, slick and sticky, pooled at his side where the jagged edge of a broken bedframe had ripped through his shirt and skin hours ago. He pressed his palm over the wound, more out of instinct than hope.

His wound wasn’t deep enough to kill him yet. But enough to slow him down. And in here, slowing down meant dying. 

The air reeked of sweat, fear, and iron. He leaned back against the freezing metal frame of his bunk, staring blankly across the dormitory where the others lay curled like dying insects, clutching stolen blankets, clutching each other if they had to.

His breathing stayed shallow. Any deeper and the pain would carve a new line through him. He barely noticed it now. Pain was just another part of the architecture—another brick in the wall he'd built around himself the moment he realized survival meant killing something inside.

His body screams to collapse. But he can't afford to listen.

Would it even matter if he survived?

The thought drifted through him, detached, like watching someone else drown through a pane of glass. If he died here, it would be easier. No debts. No shame curling in his gut like a parasite every time he thought about his wife sitting alone in a sterile hospital room.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the numbness settle deeper. Hope was dangerous here. Softness was lethal. He had clawed and fought to stay alive through the first game, through the second, through the alliances and betrayals that had stripped everyone down to what they really were. And now?

Now he was just a body pressed into a corner, bleeding out slowly, wondering if the prize at the end was even real.

The blood slid down his side in slow rivulets. His fingers tightened reflexively, staunching it, but the strength was leaving him. He shifts, grimacing, dragging himself tighter into the shadow between two bunks. Just another faceless player trying not to die before morning.

Somewhere, a scuffle breaks out. A choked scream. The wet, final thud of a head hitting concrete. In-ho doesn't even flinch.

He can't afford to.

He wonders if this is how dying feels—not sudden, but slow. A gradual loosening from the world, like slipping under deep water where no one can hear you scream.

Maybe tomorrow, he would bleed out during the next game. Maybe he'd die here, alone in the dark.

Maybe, he thought distantly, it wouldn't be a bullet that took him out. Maybe it would be something stupid like an infection. Or bleeding out under the blank, indifferent gaze of a dozen pink-masked guards.

Guards who wouldn’t even flinch.

Guards who didn't see him as anything but a number.

Soft footsteps edged closer through the rows of battered bunk beds. He didn’t bother to open his eyes. If it was another player, they would slit his throat and be done with it. If it were a guard, maybe they would drag him out early. Spare him the indignity of dying like a stray dog in front of the others.

The footsteps stopped in front of him. A shadow falls across him as he squints up at you, someone with a mask and pink uniform blurring at the edges of his swimming vision. 

Your voice was low and close, like a secret pressed against his half-conscious mind. You knelt, against every protocol, and pressed something against his wound with pressure, making it firm and steady.

“If you live,” you whispered. “Don’t forget who you were before they made you fight.”

In-ho’s eyes snapped open, his hand brushing against yours as he tried to make sense of what was happening, on why the hell a guard was speaking to him in this manner. You immediately swat his hand away as you hurriedly tend to his wounds.

For the first time in days, Hwang In-ho felt something splinter deep inside the fortress he had sealed himself into. It wasn’t hope — more of the terrifying possibility that even if he lived, he might not be the same man who started the game. 

----

A/N: I'm so happy to be writing another series again! Squid Game started appearing in my FYP again (and yes, I've watched multiple edits of LBH again 😭). Anyway, we're like almost a month away from the new season of Squid Game, I'm so excited! 😆

As the saying goes... Don't forget to leave a comment in this prologue to be tagged on to the first chapter. :)

masterlist | next chapter

EPILOGUE - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

previous chapter | MASTERLIST

——

The plan was set. The weight of it sat heavily on your shoulders as you checked your gear, strapping a handgun to your thigh holster and ensuring the spare magazines were secured. Your hands trembled slightly, but it wasn’t from fear. It was the quiet, lingering uncertainty deep inside you—the kind you couldn't afford to acknowledge right now. You felt In-ho’s presence before you even saw him.

“You’re hesitating,” he said lowly, standing just beside you, his voice quiet enough that only you could hear.

Your fingers hovered over the strap of your vest before tightening it. “I’m not.”

His gaze flickered down to your stomach. It was subtle, but you knew him well enough to see the moment of hesitation in his normally calculating eyes. His hand clenched at his side, the leather of his gloves creaking slightly.

“You don’t have to be here,” he said finally.

You let out a short breath, tilting your head toward him with an almost bitter smile. “And do what? Hide while everyone else fights? Pretend none of this is happening?”

His jaw tightened. “You have more to lose.”

Your heart clenched at those words, but before you could respond, Gi-hun’s voice cut through the tension.

“Everyone ready?”

The room shifted.

Hyun-ju was tightening the bandages on her wrist, tucking a blade into her boot. Jun-ho was checking his firearm, his expression unreadable as he stood near the doorway. No-eul adjusted the strap of her guard uniform, her fingers steady. Gyeong-seok exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight as he cracked his knuckles.

They were ready, and so were you.

But before you could step forward, In-ho caught your wrist. You froze as his gloved hand closed over your arm—not in restraint, but in something gentler. 

You turned to him. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he reached down and pulled something from the inside of his coat—a sleek, customized handgun. He placed it in your palm, closing your fingers around it.

Then, for the first time in a long time, his eyes softened. “I’ll protect you,” he murmured, voice quiet but firm. “No matter what happens.”

The words were a promise. One that neither of you knew if he could keep. Your throat tightened, but you nodded. “We protect each other.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Stay close to me.”

Then, without another word, he released your wrist and turned to the others. The tension in the room shifted once more.

Gi-hun gave a sharp nod, rolling his shoulders back. “Let’s move.”

With that, the group stepped forward, the war ahead looming like a storm. The fight was coming and there was no turning back.

You moved as thoughts started to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure when you lost yourself.

Maybe it was the moment you stepped into the games, out of sheer reckless curiosity, thinking you could outsmart something designed to break people.

Maybe it was when you ran for six months, evading shadows, haunted by memories of the bodies that had fallen around you—names you never knew, faces you would never forget.

Or maybe it was when you put on the mask. When you stood above the very system you once despised, playing the role of the overseer, whispering orders that made the machine turn, knowing that every command meant another life lost.

The moment you ascended to power, donned in black, speaking in commands that turned life and death into a cold transaction.

The mask was supposed to be just that—a mask. A tool to hide behind. A way to survive. But at some point, you had begun to wonder if you had become the mask itself.

And now, here you were. Again.

But this time, you weren’t running.

You were trying to end it.

Your fingers tightened around the edges of the table in front of you, knuckles turning white. The room was empty, save for the distant hum of the facility’s systems and the echo of your own ragged breathing. Your body ached, exhaustion weighing down on you like chains, but the real war was inside your mind.

What if, after all of this, you weren’t meant to be saved?

What if you had already become everything you once swore to destroy?

The thought sent a deep, twisting nausea through you.

You had spent so long convincing yourself that you weren’t like the others. That you had control over your fate. That despite all the blood on your hands, you were still human. But were you?

If you were, why did the sight of death no longer make you flinch?

Why had you learned to speak in orders and sacrifices, calculating loss like it was just another variable in an equation?

You clenched your hands into fists, feeling your nails dig into your skin. You needed to hold onto something real—anything that reminded you that there was still something left of you beneath all of this.

And then you thought about the life inside you.

You placed a hesitant hand over your stomach, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. You were carrying life in a place built to destroy it.

For a second, you almost laughed. How cruel, how ironic, that in the heart of this machine of death, something so fragile—so pure—was growing inside of you.

Would they ever know the truth about you? About what you did?

Would they see you as someone worth saving, or would they only see the monster that history had made of you?

Your chest felt tight. You pressed a hand against it, as if that could steady the whirlwind inside you.

Was there anything left of you beneath the mask?

The door creaked open behind you. You didn’t turn immediately. 

You knew who it was.

In-ho stepped inside, his presence solid, grounding. He didn’t say anything at first, only watching as you stared at the reflection in the dark glass—your own face staring back at you, tired, fractured.

"You’re overthinking again," he murmured, stepping closer.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Am I?”

There was silence, then something was softer. “What are you thinking about?”

You exhaled slowly. “That I don’t know who I am anymore.”

In-ho’s gaze darkened, but there was no judgment in his expression. Only understanding.

“I was a player,” you continued, voice quieter now. “Then I ran. Then I became an overseer. And now, I’m here. Back where I started. Tearing it all down.” You turned to him, eyes searching his as if he had the answer. “So tell me, In-ho. Who am I supposed to be?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for your hand, gloved fingers closing over yours. His grip was steady. Warm.

"You are who you choose to be," he said finally. "And right now, you’ve chosen to fight.”

Your throat tightened.

Fight.

You had fought for the past few months, hadn’t you? For control. For survival. For something greater than yourself.

What if fighting only turned you into another cog in the machine?

What if you were too far gone to be anything else?

Slowly, In-ho lifted his other hand and rested it gently over yours, over where it still hovered against your stomach. His gaze was softer now, his touch careful, almost reverent.

“You still have something to fight for,” he murmured.

For the first time in a long time, you felt fragile. Breakable. A lump formed in your throat, but you forced yourself to swallow it down.

Maybe there was no clear answer to who you were.

Maybe there never would be.

But right now, you knew one thing.

You weren’t going to let this place define you anymore.

Slowly, you exhaled, steadying your hands. Then, with newfound clarity, you met In-ho’s gaze.

“Let’s finish this.”

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you had control over your own story again.

——

The cold night air pressed against your skin as you and the others moved through the shadows of the island, weaving between steel walls and towering storage units. The moon hung overhead, half-veiled by storm clouds, casting eerie streaks of light over the empty pathways.

Jun-ho moved ahead, his camera clutched tightly in his hands. His fingers trembled slightly—not from fear, but from adrenaline. Each click of the camera shutter echoed in the silence, capturing the horrors of the island one frame at a time.

“Keep moving,” In-ho whispered beside you, his voice barely above the wind. His presence was steady, a contrast to the chaos in your mind.

You adjusted your grip on your gun, scanning the area. Every flickering shadow, every distant noise, sent a wave of paranoia through your veins. This island was alive, breathing, waiting to swallow you whole.

You turned to Gi-hun, who was watching Jun-ho carefully. “How much proof do you have so far?”

Jun-ho glanced down at his camera. “More than enough to make sure the world never turns a blind eye again,” he murmured.

But was it enough to stop them? The organization had power—more than any of them had ever imagined. Even with evidence, they needed to make sure this wasn’t just another buried story.

That meant one thing.

They needed to get out alive.

Hyun-ju let out a sharp breath. “We can’t just keep sneaking around. We need to hit them where it hurts.”

Gi-hun nodded. “That’s why we’re heading to the control room.”

You swallowed. “That’s the most dangerous place in this facility.”

Gyeong-seok, standing beside No-eul, flexed his fingers over his stolen rifle. “Then let’s make it count.”

There was no turning back now. You followed the group through the winding paths, past lifeless halls and silent corridors, deeper into the heart of the island. The closer you got, the heavier the air became.

Then, you saw it.

The control room.

A fortress of reinforced glass and steel, glowing with monitors displaying every part of the island. The pulse of the entire operation. If they could get in, they could override the system. Send the footage out. Tear down the organization from the inside.

But as you took another step forward, something felt wrong.

Too quiet.

Too easy.

Your instincts screamed just as the first shot rang out.

“AMBUSH!”

The world exploded. Gunfire erupted from above, from the sides, from the very walls themselves. Dozens of guards stormed in, masked and armed, their weapons aimed with deadly precision.

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. You dove behind a stack of metal crates as bullets shredded through the air, sparks flying from every surface.

Gi-hun fired back, his expression a mask of fury. Hyun-ju ducked behind a column, reloading as Gyeong-seok and No-eul tried to hold the right flank.

Jun-ho barely managed to shield his camera as a bullet shattered a light overhead, raining glass down on him.

You felt a hand on your wrist—In-ho, pulling you back as another round of bullets whizzed past where you had just stood.

“They were waiting for us,” you gritted out, pressing yourself against the crate.

“They knew we were coming,” In-ho muttered, eyes scanning for an opening.

A guard charged towards Jun-ho, gun raised. Before you could react, In-ho was already moving, raising his weapon and firing a clean shot. The guard collapsed, but another took his place, then another.

You turned, firing rapidly, each shot precise, controlled. Your months full of training, of surviving, had honed your skills into something deadly.

But the guards weren’t just trying to kill you. They were herding you. Pushing you back. Forcing you into a trap.

“We need a new plan!” Gi-hun shouted over the chaos.

You looked up. The control room doors were still sealed, reinforced. The only way in was through a direct override—or through the bodies standing in the way.

The choice was clear.

No turning back. No surrender.

You locked eyes with In-ho. “We fight our way through,” you said.

His gaze flickered to your stomach, hesitation flashing through his expression for the briefest second. But he knew you wouldn’t back down. “Then we do it together,” he murmured.

You nodded. Then, gripping your gun, you took a deep breath and ran straight into the fire.

Bullets shredded through the air as you sprinted forward, your heart hammering against your ribs. The floor beneath you trembled with each deafening blast. You moved purely on instinct, firing into the chaos, ducking and rolling behind a control panel as guards swarmed the entrance. The others were right behind you.

Gi-hun took cover behind an overturned console, his jaw clenched as he reloaded. Jun-ho was crouched near a metal pillar, his camera slung over his shoulder, his gun shaking slightly in his grip.

In-ho was beside you, his movements precise and ruthless. He fired clean, methodical shots, covering Hyun-ju as she darted to the other side of the room, her rifle slung over her shoulder. Gyeong-seok and No-eul worked in tandem, their stolen weapons spitting fire as they tried to clear a path forward.

But there were too many.

Guards poured in from the upper levels, rifles trained on your group like predators circling prey. You counted at least two dozen, their numbers closing in.

A bullet grazed your arm, the burn searing through your flesh. You clenched your jaw, shoving the pain aside. You couldn’t afford to hesitate.

“We’re getting pinned down!” No-eul shouted, ducking behind the cover as bullets ripped into the wall beside her.

“We need to move, now!” Gyeong-seok gritted out, his breathing ragged.

In-ho scanned the control room, his sharp eyes locking onto something across the room. The main terminal. The heart of the facility.

“We have to get to the override panel,” he said. “It’s our only chance to take control of the island’s systems.”

“Then let’s make a path,” you said, gripping your gun tighter.

You and In-ho moved together, breaking from cover in perfect sync. Your weapons fired in unison, dropping two guards blocking the path to the panel. The others followed your lead, pushing forward with relentless force.

Hyun-ju threw a stolen flash grenade, the explosion of light and sound sending the remaining guards into disarray. “Go! Now!” she yelled.

In-ho grabbed your wrist, pulling you forward as you weaved through the chaos, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You reached the main terminal, its screen glowing with layers of security protocols.

Jun-ho rushed in behind you, typing furiously on the control pad. “I can override the security feeds, but I need time!”

Time was the one thing you didn’t have. Guards regrouped, their gunfire tearing into the walls. No-eul yelped as a bullet grazed her leg, Gyeong-seok dragging her back behind a desk for cover.

Gi-hun gritted his teeth, turning to you. “We have to hold them off.”

You nodded, your body aching, but your mind razor-sharp. You lifted your gun and fired, refusing to let them take another step forward.

And then, a voice crackled through the speakers.

“You really thought you could win?”

Everything stopped as your stomach twisted as the voice reverberated through the room. Cold. Amused. Unshaken by the battle raging inside the control center.

It was one of the overseers. Though its voice sounded from… a woman.

“You think you’re exposing us? You have no idea what you’ve done.”

The screens flickered, revealing a horrifying sight.

Outside the facility, massive cargo ships loomed on the horizon. Heavily armed. Reinforcements.

Jun-ho’s fingers froze over the keyboard. “They knew we were coming.”

Your grip on your gun tightened. The weight of everything—your past, your choices, your unborn child—pressed down on you like a crushing force.

“We can’t stop now,” you said, your voice steely.

In-ho turned to you, something fierce and unyielding in his gaze. “I won’t let them take you.”

You swallowed hard, your hand instinctively resting on your stomach.

No one ran. No one surrendered.

The next battle had just begun.

Thick iron chains rattled against the damp ground as you and the others were dragged forward. The cold bite of steel dug into your wrists, the weight of captivity pressing down on you with every step. The guards flanked you in a tight formation, their rifles primed and ready to fire at the slightest resistance.

The sky was dark, storm clouds swirling like an omen above the endless stretch of ocean. Massive cargo ships loomed ahead, their floodlights cutting through the night, illuminating the dock where your fate awaited. The air reeked of salt, gunpowder, and something else—something metallic and final.

A line of masked overseers stood at the edge of the dock, their robes billowing in the wind. Their presence alone was suffocating, a silent reminder of the power they wielded.

At the center stood one of them. A woman with a single black mask, wearing a red long dress that fit her shape. An unmistakable symbol of control. She was someone you’ve never seen before, even In-ho seemed confused seeing her.

The overseer inched forward, exuding an aura of absolute dominance. The guards shoved you and the others to your knees, forcing you to look up at the figure towering above.

The overseer’s slow, deliberate applause echoed against the crashing waves.

“Well, well,” the voice purred, smooth and amused. “Look at you. The rebels. The revolutionaries.” A pause. Then, with venomous delight. “The failures.”

A low growl rumbled from Gi-hun’s throat, his wrists straining against the chains. In-ho remained still, his gaze locked onto the overseer, his mind calculating every possible move. Your breath hitched, your pulse hammering at the base of your throat.

The overseer paced in front of you, slow and measured, relishing every second of your humiliation.

“Did you think you were the first?” Her voice was mocking, dripping with condescension. “Did you really believe you could ‘expose’ us? That the world would shun us in horror?”

A bitter chuckle.

“Oh, how naive.”

A monitor buzzed to life behind the line of overseers. The screen flickered, revealing something none of you had expected.

Millions of people were watching. The world wasn’t horrified. They were entertained.

Live feeds, interviews, and even betting pools flashed across the screen. People weren’t condemning the games. They were celebrating them.

Your stomach twisted violently.

The overseer gestured toward the display. “You see, the world doesn’t want justice. They want a spectacle. And thanks to you, dear rebels, we’ve given them just that.”

Gi-hun’s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “You’re lying.”

The overseer tilted her head. “Am I?”

The screen shifted again, showing news anchors praising the system, social media posts glorifying the brutality, commentators analyzing ‘strategies’ for future contestants.

“People have stopped questioning the morality of it all. They’ve accepted it.” The overseer’s voice lowered to a chilling whisper. “They want more.”

A sickening wave of nausea rolled over you.

The overseer crouched down, inches from your face. “And you,” she murmured, “were always meant to be part of it.”

Your breath hitched as they lifted a gloved hand and traced it along your jawline—then lower, hovering just above your abdomen. Your blood ran cold.

“I must say,” the overseer drawled, “I’m impressed. Even after all the carnage, you still found time to create life.”

Your entire body stiffened. Beside you, In-ho’s head snapped up, his entire posture shifting from composed to sheer, unfiltered rage.

The overseer’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “I wonder… how much longer it will last?”

In-ho lunged as the chains snapped as he surged forward, a raw, animalistic fury igniting in his eyes. The guards reacted immediately, striking him across the face with the butt of a rifle. He hit the ground hard, a sharp crack echoing as blood splattered against the dirt.

You gasped, jerking forward, but the guards yanked you back, forcing you to watch as In-ho writhed, his chest heaving, his head bowed.

The overseer smirked. “How predictable.”

In-ho lifted his head, a slow, dark smile curling at his lips despite the blood dripping down his chin. “You have no idea what’s coming.”

The overseer merely chuckled. “Oh, but I do.” She straightened, dusting off their coat. “You see, the three of you—” they gestured between you, In-ho, and Gi-hun “—were always meant to be the pillars of this system. A former winner, a perfect enforcer, and a rogue overseer. The power of the games could have been yours.”

A pause.

“But you chose defiance.”

She turned to Gi-hun, her expression unreadable behind the mask. “And you, my dear 456… you were never meant to win.”

Gi-hun inhaled sharply, his body going rigid.

The overseer took one last step closer, looming over you. “But now, you get to witness something far more tragic.” She motioned toward the ships. “Your final chapter.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as realization sank in. They weren’t taking you to be executed. They were taking you to be displayed.

A grand finale for the world to see.

The guards yanked the chains, forcing all of you to your feet. Your legs trembled, but you forced yourself to stay strong. You couldn’t afford to break. Not here. Not now.

You risked a glance at In-ho. His lip was split, his eye swelling, but his gaze was still burning with defiance. He met your eyes, a silent promise there.

I will not let them take you.

The storm overhead rumbled, the waves crashing violently against the dock as the guards led you closer to the ships. You swallowed back the fear clawing at your throat.

The waves roared beneath the docks, a monstrous force of nature that mirrored the chaos unraveling in your mind. The cold steel chains dug into your wrists as the guards tightened their grip, dragging you and the others toward the looming cargo ships. The world had already decided your fate—whether as traitors, martyrs, or something far worse.

And then the overseer spoke again, her voice eerily calm against the storm.“You’re still clinging to the idea that you’ve uncovered the truth,” she mused, stepping forward with a measured grace. “That you’ve somehow managed to defy the system. But tell me…” She tilted their head slightly, the smooth black mask reflecting the flickering floodlights. “Did you ever stop to think that perhaps… the system wanted you to?”

The words settled like a slow, creeping poison. Gi-hun stiffened beside you, his fists trembling within the chains. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped.

The overseer chuckled, the sound drenched in amusement. “You really think all of this—” she gestured at the massive ships, the live broadcasts, the relentless global fascination “—happened because of you?” She let the silence hang for a moment before answering their own question.

Your stomach twisted.

“This—all of this—was inevitable.”

The overseer began pacing in front of you like a predator toying with its wounded prey.

“Violence… spectacle… the illusion of rebellion. You see, the system never feared exposure.” She turned slightly, glancing at Jun-ho. “Did you think you were the first to attempt such a thing? To gather evidence? To infiltrate?”

Jun-ho’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening.

“Many have tried before,” the overseer continued smoothly. “Some died. Some disappeared. But their efforts all had one thing in common.” Her voice dropped to a taunting whisper. “They never mattered.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

The overseer exhaled, her tone almost sympathetic. “We never needed to hide the games. We only needed to… evolve them.”

Gi-hun’s expression darkened, fury twisting his features. “No. That’s bullshit—”

“Is it?” The overseer took a slow, deliberate step forward. “You saw the world’s reaction. You saw the demand. You thought you were at the top, pulling the strings, but in reality, you were merely pieces on a much grander board. The real game isn’t about survival or wealth. It never was.” Her gaze darkened, sharp with something unreadable. “It’s about control. Manipulation. How far people are willing to go when they believe they have power.”

The screen flickered behind them again—broadcasts of talk shows, endless online discourse, governments debating regulations rather than condemnations.

“The world isn’t horrified. It’s hungry.”

Gi-hun's expression hardened. “And what? You think people will just let this continue?”

The overseer chuckled, shaking her head. “Let it continue?” She gestured grandly. “The world has already decided. The games were revealed, the public saw the truth, and what did they do?”

She leaned in closer, voice thick with amusement.

“They begged for more.”

Your stomach twisted.

No. That wasn’t possible.

The world should have been horrified. Outraged. The system should have collapsed under the weight of its own sins. A twisted smile played at the overseer’s lips, barely visible beneath the mask.

“This was never about stopping the games.”

She turned their gaze onto you this time, her tone softening into something almost affectionate.

“This was about creating something new.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

The overseer let the weight of her words sink in before continuing. “You, In-ho, Gi-hun… you were never opponents to the system. You were components.”

Another pause. Then, another cruel smirk.

“You were the experiment.”

The words shattered the last threads of certainty holding you together. The realization was crushing. The system hadn’t been exposed to destroy it. It had been exposed to evolve.

And now, you, In-ho, and Gi-hun—the supposed "leaders" of the system—were nothing but remnants of an old era. Pawns that had served their purpose.

Your knees nearly buckled beneath you. “What…?” Your voice barely registered, hollow, strangled.

“Did you really believe you infiltrated us? That you and In-ho’s power struggle meant anything? That Gi-hun’s rebellion made an impact?” The overseer’s head tilted, amused. “No. You were all carefully placed pieces on the board. Given just enough power. Just enough hope.”

She gestured between you and In-ho. “The overseer who once enforced the system, turned against it. The rogue infiltrator seeking to burn it down.” Her gaze slid to Gi-hun. “And the man who tried to end it, only to be drawn back into its orbit again and again.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“All of you… designed to stir the pot. To give the world something new to fixate on.”

It was like the ground beneath you had crumbled. Jun-ho’s breathing was uneven now, his fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to lunge at the overseer despite his chains. Gi-hun was eerily silent, his entire body rigid with unprocessed rage.

You turned to In-ho, desperate for some kind of answer, some kind of denial—anything. But his face was unreadable. You couldn’t find anything. Even he didn’t know what to do anymore. 

The overseer took a slow step forward, her voice dropping to something almost gentle. “The real games never ended.” She leaned in closer. “Because they never truly began.”

A cold, sickening dread settled deep in your bones. Everything you had done. Everything you had fought for. It wasn’t against the system.

It had been for it all along.

A deafening silence consumed the dock, broken only by the distant wails of the ocean and the mechanical hum of the ships. Your mind was still reeling from the overseer’s words, from the realization that the very thing you fought against had been orchestrating your every move.

You were never tearing the system down.

You were fueling it.

The chains rattled against your wrists as you struggled to breathe, your pulse hammering so loud you could barely hear the distant screams of the world that now knew the truth—but was unwilling to stop it.

And then the overseer moved slowly and deliberately. The gun in her hand was raised, the barrel leveled directly at your head. A cruel smirk tugged at the edges of her lips beneath the mask. “I think we all know how this ends. But I have to say,” she mused, her eyes flickering down to your stomach, “this was an interesting variable.”

The guards beside you tightened their grip. No one in your group dared to move, frozen in place like ghosts waiting to vanish into oblivion.

“No.”

The word came from beside you, raw and desperate.

In-ho took a step forward, yanking against the chains holding him back. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body tense, as if ready to tear through every restraint between him and the gun aimed at you.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice tight with barely contained emotion. 

The overseer didn’t even glance at him. She took a slow step forward, locking eyes with In-ho. “But you, In-ho…tell me, how does it feel? To know you fought so hard to survive—only to end up right back in chains?”

In-ho said nothing. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his fists clenched so tightly they trembled.

The overseer took another step closer, voice turning into a whisper. “Does it hurt more knowing that she’ll suffer with you?”

Something inside of In-ho snapped. With a roar, he lunged. The guards reacted instantly, yanking him back before he could reach the overseer. A sharp crack echoed as a rifle butt smashed into In-ho’s gut, sending him to his knees.

“No!” You struggled against your restraints, but the chains dug into your wrists, holding you back.

In-ho coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He lifted his head slowly, glaring up at the overseer, pure hatred burning in his gaze. But the overseer only chuckled, looking amused.

“No,” In-ho hissed, his eyes burning with something unrecognizable—something vulnerable, something stripped bare. “She—she’s pregnant.”

The words barely made it past his lips, but they hit like a gunshot. The world seemed to stop. The others visibly stiffened, the revelation settling into their bones like a slow, creeping cold.

Gi-hun turned sharply toward you, his brows furrowing, his lips parting in silent realization. Jun-ho’s expression shattered for just a second before he quickly masked it, his gaze flicking between you and his brother. Hyun-ju inhaled sharply. Gyeong-seok muttered a quiet curse under his breath. No-eul’s hands twitched at her sides.

And the overseer laughed.

It was quiet at first—a small chuckle, almost amused. Then it grew.

Louder.

Hollow.

Merciless.

“How poetic,” she tilted their head. “A life growing inside the very person who helped enforce the deaths of so many.”

In-ho’s breathing was ragged. “It’s unfair,” he rasped. “The child… our child… they never chose this.”

For a fraction of a second, the overseer seemed to consider his words. Then, her smirk deepened.

“You’re right.”

Then, without warning, the gun was pulled away. Instead of relief, a cold wave of dread washed over you. The overseer turned slightly, pacing in front of your group, her gaze flickering between you, Gi-hun, and In-ho.

“But fairness was never a part of this game.”

The next words came like a slow death sentence.

“Choose.”

The wind howled as the reality of their command settled over the group.

“You,” the overseer gestured at you. “Or him.” They pointed at In-ho. “One of you dies here, the other gets to live… for now.”

Gi-hun stepped forward instantly. “This isn’t a choice.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air like a blade. “It’s a sick joke.”

The overseer barely acknowledged him. Jun-ho’s eyes flickered toward his brother, then to you. He was calculating, searching for a way out.

The chains around your wrists felt tighter. The child inside you was an anchor, holding you down, keeping you from thinking straight.

In-ho's voice was barely above a whisper. “Take me.”

“No,” you said immediately, shaking your head.

In-ho’s eyes met yours, and in them, you saw it. The exhaustion. The torment. The weight of everything he’d done. But before you could say another word, the overseer let out a short laugh. 

“Touching,” she mused, before tilting their head toward the guards. “I’m getting too impatient. Kill them both.”

The world moved too fast and too slow all at once.

The gunshot rang out like a crack through the fabric of the world.

“Y/N!” In-ho cried out, breaking away from the chains as he rushed to you. 

Your body jerked. At first, it didn’t register. Just a strange, searing heat blooming somewhere deep inside you, like a fire spreading through your veins. The force of the impact sent you stumbling, the air knocked from your lungs as if someone had just punched a hole through your chest.

Then, the pain came.

A slow, creeping agony at first—like the burn of a blade pressing into flesh—before it exploded into something unbearable. It stole the breath from your throat, the strength from your limbs. Your knees buckled. You barely felt yourself falling.

But In-ho was there.

His hands were on you before you hit the ground, catching you, his grip desperate—too desperate. He pulled you against him, his voice breaking into fragments of sound, of syllables that you couldn’t quite grasp.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Just—just keep your eyes on me.”

You tried. God, you tried. But the world was slipping, bleeding into shadows. “In-ho…” Your voice was barely a breath. “We were just kids,” you murmured, your fingers barely brushing his wrist. “Do you remember? When we used to sneak onto the rooftops? Just to watch the city lights?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he rasped. “You said they looked like stars. That if we couldn’t reach the real ones, we could pretend.”

You gave a faint smile, though it barely stayed. “And you—” a cough wracked through you, and his hand cradled your cheek instinctively, as if afraid you’d disappear right in front of him. “You always brought the stolen snacks. Said we’d never go hungry if we stuck together.”

His breath hitched. “And we didn’t. Not once.”

A silence stretched between you both—long enough for him to realize how cold you were getting. His hold tightened.

“We were supposed to make it out together,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

You let out a shaky breath. “And yet… here we are.”

His jaw clenched. The weight of everything—his choices, your choices—settled heavily between you. He had spent years chasing power, believing it was the only way to survive. But in the end, it had led to this.

Your fingers barely curled around his wrist. “Do you… ever wonder?”

He blinked, leaning closer. “Wonder what?”

“If things were different,” you murmured. “If we were never part of the games…” You swallowed, your throat dry. “Would we have been happy?”

His face crumpled, something deep and painful surfacing in his eyes.

“In-ho,” you whispered. “What if… what if we raised our child together?”

His breath caught. For the first time, the war around you faded. The guards, the overseers, the bloodshed—it all became distant noise.

“I would’ve kept you safe,” he said, his voice thick. “Both of you.”

Your lips parted, a shuddering exhale escaping.

He wasn’t lying.

Despite everything, despite the monster he had become to survive, there was still the boy who had once promised to never let you starve. The boy who had watched city lights with you and told you the world could be yours.

“In another life,” you whispered, tears slipping past your lashes, “I think we would’ve been happy.”

His grip on you trembled. “Then let’s make this one count,” he said fiercely.

But you knew—both of you knew—there was no escaping this ending. And yet, for just one fleeting moment, you both allowed yourselves to pretend.

The moment In-ho’s trembling hand pressed against your belly, a choked sob tore from his throat. His palm was warm, despite the coldness creeping into your body, despite the chaos around you. His tears fell freely now, mixing with the blood that pooled beneath you both. His forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven, shaky, desperate.

"You were supposed to live," he whispered, voice barely audible over the ringing in your ears. "Both of you."

Your fingers weakly lifted, wanting to touch him, to reassure him, to tell him that it was okay—even though it wasn’t. But before you could reach him—

Bang.

His body jolted violently. A sharp, shuddering gasp left him, his grip on you tightening as if he could still shield you from the inevitable.

Your vision blurred, but you felt it. The way his muscles tensed, the way his breath stilled for a split second before leaving him in a broken, rattling exhale.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Just raw, silent agony.

But he didn't let go. Even as his body trembled, even as the warmth began to seep out of him, he held you. Tightly. Desperately.

His head dipped forward, his lips barely brushing your temple.

In-ho's grip on you slackened slightly, his forehead pressing weakly against yours as his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The warmth of his body was still there, but it was fading—just like yours.

You forced yourself to lift a trembling hand, brushing against his jaw, smearing blood across his skin. His own hand covered yours instantly, holding it in place, as if anchoring himself to you. His body trembled, whether from pain or grief, you weren’t sure.

"I’m sorry," he rasped, his voice cracking under the weight of emotions he had buried for so long. His other hand stayed firmly over your belly, shaking with the realization of what was slipping away. "I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to—”

A wet cough interrupted his words, his body shuddering as another wave of pain struck him. But still, he clung to you. 

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, blinking away the tears clouding your vision. "We... we had so many plans, In-ho," you murmured, a weak smile tugging at your lips despite the pain. "Remember? That little house by the coast... waking up to the sound of the waves... raising our child somewhere safe... away from all of this."

A broken chuckle left him, but it sounded more like a sob. "Yeah... I remember." 

His fingers brushed against your cheek, gentle despite the blood staining them. "You always wanted a garden."

You let out a breathy laugh, though it hurt. "And you said you’d build the fence yourself, even though you’re terrible at carpentry."

His lips twitched in something close to a smirk. "I would’ve figured it out eventually."

Silence hung between you for a moment, filled only by your labored breaths. The world around you had blurred, the distant chaos nothing more than background noise now.

You stared at him, memorizing his face, the way his dark eyes held a depth of emotions he had always tried to hide. And despite everything—the pain, the blood, the inevitability of it all—you still found solace in him.

You wished you could turn back time, rewrite the ending, give your child a life beyond this place. But there were no second chances.

Another gun cocked in the distance. Footsteps approached, seemingly cold, heavy, and unforgiving. In-ho's body tensed, his arms instinctively pulling you closer. Even now, even with his strength waning, he was still trying to shield you.

You tried to hold him, to keep him upright, but your strength was gone. Your fingers, sticky with blood—his blood—clutched at the fabric of his uniform, desperately trying to ground him, to keep him here with you.

His breaths came in uneven, shallow bursts, his body twitching against yours as he struggled to fight against the inevitable. His grip on your waist weakened, but his hand on your stomach never wavered, as if it was the only thing tethering him to life.

"In-ho," you rasped, your forehead pressing against his, trying to keep him with you, trying to will his body to stay alive despite the fatal wound tearing through him.

His lips parted, breath ragged and wet. His fingers twitched against your cheek before they cupped the side of your face in a weak attempt to comfort you. His dark eyes, once so intense, now held something softer—something desperate.

A sob broke from your throat as you held him tighter, ignoring the way your own body was beginning to weaken. Blood pooled beneath the both of you, the warmth of it contrasting cruelly against the chilling night air. You looked up and saw the overseer, standing there, watching the two of you, gun still raised. Her mask gave away nothing, but her stance was relaxed as if she knew the fight was already over.

"This was always how it was meant to end," the overseer murmured, her voice laced with cold amusement. "Did you really think you could change the system?"

In-ho shifted slightly, his fingers twitching against your belly again. His body was shaking, struggling to keep himself upright, but his eyes—despite the agony—still burned with defiance. "You’ll never win," he rasped.

The overseer chuckled, low and knowing. "You still don’t get it, do you?" She took a slow step closer, the muzzle of her gun lowering slightly. "There is no winning. There is no escaping." Her head tilted slightly, gaze flickering to you, her tone mocking. "You of all people should know that."

Your vision blurred, not just from the pain, but from the weight of everything. She was right. You knew it the moment you stepped back onto this island. 

And yet, despite everything, despite the certainty of death hanging over you, you still reached for In-ho.

Still clung to the last warmth between you.

Still wished, in another life, you could have had more time.

A heavy silence fell over the bloodstained ground. The sea air, once brimming with the scent of salt, now reeked of gunpowder and iron. Your body, weakened and barely clinging to consciousness, trembled in In-ho’s embrace. His grip was still firm despite the life draining from him, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm but fading.

Then, through the blur of pain and dimming vision, you saw them.

Gi-hun. Jun-ho. No-eul. Hyun-ju. Gyeong-seok.

They stood frozen at the edge of the platform, their faces carved with horror. Jun-ho’s eyes were the widest, wild with anguish. His lips moved, screaming something—your name, In-ho’s name—but his cries were muffled by the roaring in your ears. A guard yanked him back roughly, restraining him as he thrashed, desperation twisting his features.

Gi-hun's fists clenched at his sides, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those sharp, battle-worn eyes—were filled with something between sorrow and fury. No-eul and Gyeong-seok looked pale, tense, their bodies rigid with helplessness, and Hyun-ju—always so composed—had a rare moment of raw emotion flicker across her face.

The overseer stepped forward, her heels stopping just before the pooling blood beneath you and In-ho. Her presence loomed over all of you like a specter, and when she spoke, her voice carried an eerie finality.

"Let this be a reminder," she mused, slow and deliberate, her gaze shifting between the remaining survivors. "A lesson for those who think they can escape fate."

Jun-ho struggled again, his entire body shaking. “You bastard!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “You fucking coward—let them go! Let them go!”

The overseer merely chuckled, tilting her head slightly, amusement lacing her words. "Oh, Jun-ho," she sighed, stepping back into the shadows. "You still don’t understand, do you?" She gestured toward the island, toward the monolithic structures that loomed under the stormy sky. "You came here thinking you could end the games. You thought you could take it all down." She let the words linger before her voice dropped into something more menacing.

"But once you go in—there’s no turning back."

A new alarm blared across the island. The guards yanked Jun-ho, Gi-hun, and the others away, dragging them further back into the compound. Their muffled shouts became part of the chaos, swallowed by the unrelenting storm of fate.

As darkness pulled you further into its embrace, the last thing you saw was In-ho’s bloodied face, his eyes barely open, his lips trying to form words he no longer had the strength to say.

——

previous chapter | MASTERLIST

A/N: Now, it's done! Can't believe I've ended this series already. Also, I broke my own heart while writing this epilogue, but I really do think that the actual show will have a sad ending for In-ho. I can't wait for the next season of Squid Game, and maybe I'll write another series based on the 3rd season 👀 Also, thank you so much to all of you for reading and bearing my writing of this series! Your comments and feedbacks really helped and motivated me to continue writing. You can check out my masterlist to see more of my oneshots and my upcoming series soon. You may also request oneshots so please feel free to do so. 🫶

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @voxslays @thebluehair23 @coruja12345 @alliyah-ll @spiritualgirly444 @luvr4miya (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

CHAPTER 21 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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——

The atmosphere in the control room was thick with tension as the final preparations for the dry run commenced. You stood beside In-ho, both of you in your authoritative masks and dark uniforms, overseeing the screens that displayed every inch of the arena. This was a necessary step to test the mechanics, ensuring every trap and function worked seamlessly before the real games began.

“We proceed as scheduled,” In-ho’s voice was calm but firm. “The Front Man should have been here by now.”

Your eyes flicked to the empty chair that Gi-hun was supposed to occupy. A small frown formed beneath your mask, but you shook it off. There were more pressing matters at hand. “Begin the dry run.”

The order was relayed, and the countdown was initiated. The massive red doors to the arena creaked open, revealing a handful of test subjects—masked guards disguised as players, meant to simulate real conditions. The last game was about to begin.

“All systems online,” a masked technician announced.

The massive doll at the center of the arena, responsible for detecting motion, remained still. Its head did not rotate, its sensor lights did not flicker. The guards in their test-player disguises exchanged confused glances. You exchanged a look with In-ho, his posture stiffening.

“Check the wiring,” he ordered sharply.

One of the technicians frantically worked at his station, fingers flying over the keyboard. “The detection system isn’t responding! It was functional yesterday—”

Another alarm blared across the monitors as more systems began to shut down. The retractable floors beneath certain marked spots—a key feature for later rounds—remained locked in place. The automatic turrets that were meant to simulate eliminations did not fire. A critical command flashed on the screens: 

SYSTEM ERROR – CONNECTION LOST

“What the hell is happening?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, but the tension in the air was suffocating.

“Security breach in multiple areas,” another guard reported, voice shaking slightly. “But… nothing is physically damaged. It’s like the entire system is shutting down on its own.”

In-ho’s hand tightened into a fist, his knuckles ghostly white against his gloves. He turned to you, his voice dangerously low. “Where is the Front Man?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine. You turned to one of the nearest guards. “Find him. Now.”

The guard hesitated, then slowly stepped forward. “Sir… he is nowhere to be seen.”

Your heart thumped in your chest.

“What do you mean, ‘nowhere to be seen’?” In-ho asked, his voice devoid of patience.

“We checked his quarters. He’s not there. And… several guards are missing as well.”

Your breath hitched. The realization clawed at your mind like a cold hand gripping your throat.

Your conversation with Gi-hun and Jun-ho. The options they gave you.

n-ho’s voice came through again, harsh and unrelenting. “Seal off the exits. No one leaves the island.”

But before the command could fully register, another sound rang through the control room. A shrill, piercing alarm—one that sent the entire room into a frantic motion.

EMERGENCY MEETING CALLED – ALL OVERSEERS REPORT IMMEDIATELY

The red warning lights flashed violently against the steel walls, bathing everything in crimson. Your pulse pounded in your ears as the realization fully settled in.

Gi-hun was gone.

And something bigger than a mere malfunction was about to unfold.

——

You and In-ho make your way towards the conference room. Inside was thick with tension, the overhead lights casting harsh shadows on the long table where the overseers sat. The air was heavy, charged with suspicion and quiet rage. You and In-ho stood at the end of the room, backs straight, masking any sign of weakness. The red alarms still echoed faintly in the corridors outside, a constant reminder of the chaos that had begun to unravel.

One of the overseers, a man with a deep scar running across his jaw, slammed his fist onto the table. "Everything was running perfectly until now. And suddenly, the system crashes? The games malfunction? Guards go missing? And where is the Front Man?!" His sharp eyes drilled into yours. "You and In-ho were supposed to ensure that none of this happened."

Another overseer, a woman with ice in her voice, leaned forward. "The two of you were the only ones who had direct access to every security measure. And now, there's a breach. We have reason to believe this is an inside job."

"You’re accusing us?" In-ho's voice was dangerously calm, but there was an edge to it. His hand rested subtly at his side, close to his gun holster.

"You tell us," the scarred man hissed. "How do we know you haven’t been compromised?"

The room darkened as the monitors flickered, static crackling before returning to blank screens. The overseers grew restless, shifting in their seats, fingers twitching near their weapons.

Then came the final blow.

A different overseer, older but sharper than the rest, tilted his head. "The games have been exposed."

You exchanged a sharp glance with In-ho. The older overseer continued, his expression unreadable. "And you know what’s surprising? The world isn’t outraged. They’re obsessed. Demanding more. Calling for a massive televised event." He exhaled sharply, voice dripping with disdain. "It’s no longer just a secret bloodbath—it’s entertainment."

Murmurs rippled through the room. Some overseers looked disturbed. Others intrigued. But suspicion still lingered.

"And you think we had something to do with this?" In-ho asked, voice tight.

"It’s too convenient. The timing, the failures, the missing personnel." The scarred man leaned in. "The only ones who could have let this slip are the ones who had access to everything. You."

Then, the final nail in the coffin.

The same older overseer smirked. "And, of course… we know about the pregnancy."

Your blood ran cold as your body tensed. In-ho’s grip on his gun tightened. The way the older overseer’s lips curled ever so slightly sent a wave of unease through you.

"A child," the man mused. "What a complication that would be. A liability. Perhaps you’re both already thinking about an escape. Perhaps you’ve been compromised long before this."

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you felt the shift in the room—the rising hostility. A sharp click rang through the air, seeing guns drawn directly at you and In-ho.

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to remain still, your fingers curling into fists. One wrong move, and you’d both be riddled with bullets before you could even react.

"If you’re not with us, you’re against us," the scarred man growled. "And we don’t tolerate traitors."

Then, the first shot fired.

In-ho grabbed your wrist, yanking you down as the bullet shattered the glass panel behind you. A second later, the conference room erupted in gunfire. Overseers ducked for cover as you and In-ho sprinted toward the doors. You felt the air shift beside your cheek as a bullet barely missed you, embedding itself into the steel wall.

"Move!" In-ho barked, his grip on you firm as he led you into the hallway.

The moment you both crashed through the doors, In-ho pulled his gun and fired back, forcing the overseers to scatter for cover. "We have to get to the control room—now!"

Your pulse raced as your boots pounded against the cold floors. Behind you, the doors burst open, shouts echoing through the halls as the overseers pursued, their weapons raised. The emergency sirens blared louder now, blending with the chaos.

You weren’t just running from them. You were running for your life. 

For In-ho’s. 

For your unborn child.

And as another bullet whizzed past, nearly grazing your arm, you knew one thing for certain.

This wasn’t over yet.

Your mind raced as you tore down the hall, your pulse hammering against your ribs. The sharp stench of gunpowder clung to the air as you and In-ho moved in sync, your footsteps heavy against the cold steel floors. Bullets ricocheted off the walls, sparks flying in bursts of light as more guards poured in from the intersecting corridors.

In-ho moved ahead, his precision deadly. His gun fired in clean, methodical bursts, taking out guards with ease. You followed closely, your own weapon raised, firing at the figures blocking your escape. Bodies fell, the chaos swallowing their last gasps as the sirens blared louder, warning the entire facility of your defiance.

“We need to get out of this sector now!” In-ho shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the endless alarms.

Your grip on your gun tightened as another group of guards stormed in from the left, their rifles aimed directly at you. Your reflexes took over, pulling the trigger, feeling the recoil as each shot landed with brutal precision. One guard lunged forward, and before you could react, In-ho stepped in front of you, his bullet meeting the man’s skull before he could even reach you.

A brief glance was exchanged between you and In-ho—nothing was said, but everything was understood.

Then a voice called out, stopping you both in your tracks.

“Over here!”

You snapped your head to the far end of the hallway. A figure stood there, barely visible through the flashing red lights. Then another voice joined in, a familiar one—Jun-ho.

“This way! Hurry!” he urged, motioning to a reinforced door behind him.

You and In-ho hesitated for a second. A second too long. More guards were closing in fast, their relentless gunfire forcing you both to duck behind a shattered console.

In-ho turned to you. “We don’t have a choice. We move now.”

You nodded, and without another word, both of you sprinted towards Jun-ho. He had already begun keying in a code on the panel beside the door, his fingers moving quickly, overriding the security locks. The moment you and In-ho were close enough, Jun-ho slammed the panel, and the heavy doors hissed open.

The moment you stepped inside, your breath hitched.

Gi-hun. Hyun-ju. Gyeong-seok. No-eul.

They were all there.

Gi-hun's eyes flickered between you and In-ho, his expression unreadable. Hyun-ju had a gun slung over her shoulder, her stance tense but prepared. Gyeong-seok and No-eul stood side by side, their hands twitching near their weapons, waiting for any sign of hostility. The air in the room was thick, the weight of past betrayals and alliances clashing in an unspoken war.

No one moved. No one spoke.

The sound of distant gunfire and the wail of the alarms were the only reminders that the war outside had not ceased. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you weren’t alone.

An alliance was forming again.

——

A tense silence filled the air as Jun-ho and In-ho locked eyes. It was as if the world around them had disappeared, the chaos and the blaring alarms fading into nothing but the weight of years lost between them.

Jun-ho took a slow step forward. His breathing was uneven, his expression unreadable. “Is it really you?” his voice was hoarse, filled with disbelief and something deeper—pain.

n-ho, for all his poise and control, looked shaken. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. He swallowed hard, his gun lowering slightly as if all the fight in him had drained away the moment he saw his brother standing there, alive.

“Jun-ho,” In-ho finally said, his voice quieter than anyone had ever heard it.

Jun-ho clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he took another step. “You let me believe you were dead.”

In-ho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I had to.”

“Bullshit!” Jun-ho snapped, his voice rising as years of grief, anger, and betrayal surfaced all at once. “You could have come back! You could have told me! Do you have any idea what I—”

Before Jun-ho could finish, In-ho closed the distance between them and pulled his younger brother into a tight embrace.

Jun-ho stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. His hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to push In-ho away or hold on to him like he had been wishing to do for years.

“I’m sorry,” In-ho murmured against his brother’s shoulder, voice breaking for the first time. “I’m so damn sorry, Jun-ho.”

Jun-ho squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching before he finally gave in, his arms wrapping around his brother in return. It was a brief moment of vulnerability, a reunion built on broken pieces, but it was real.

The others in the room stayed silent, watching the brothers reunite amidst the madness surrounding them.

After a moment, Jun-ho pulled away, wiping at his face quickly before looking at In-ho with newfound determination. “If you’re really sorry, then help me end this.”

In-ho hesitated, glancing at you for a brief second before turning back to his brother. He exhaled through his nose, then nodded. “We will.”

Gi-hun finally stepped forward, arms crossed as he surveyed the reunion. You smirked, glancing around at the group as your tone laced with purpose when you spoke up.

“So, what’s the plan?”

The silence hung heavy in the dimly lit room, only the distant echoes of gunfire and the blaring alarms breaking through. You stood among the others, feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing down on your chest. In-ho stood beside you, his face unreadable, though you could feel the tension in his stance.

Gi-hun took a slow breath, his fingers curling into fists before he finally spoke.

"The plan is simple," he began, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—calculated determination. "We take the organization down from the inside. We sabotage the games, expose their operations, and ensure that when the world watches, they see the truth."

Jun-ho crossed his arms, nodding slightly. "The system is already crumbling. The overseers are paranoid, the guards are scattered. With the world already watching, all we have to do is show them what’s really happening behind the scenes."

Gi-hun exhaled sharply. "But there was one part of the plan that’s changed."

You felt a sudden unease crawl up your spine.

"The original plan," Gi-hun continued, locking eyes with you and In-ho, "was to execute both of you."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You barely had time to register it before the room shifted—Hyun-ju tensed, Gyeong-seok and No-eul exchanged wary glances, and Jun-ho's jaw clenched. In-ho, however, remained deathly still.

Gi-hun's gaze didn’t waver. "Before you decided to switch sides, you were still a threat. Both of you. The safest way to ensure this plan succeeded was to eliminate you before you could compromise it."

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You didn't realize how tight your fists had become.

"But," Gi-hun continued, "you chose differently. You decided to fight with us instead of against us. So, the plan changes."

You exhaled, steadying yourself. In-ho's hand brushed against yours—subtle, barely there, but enough for you to notice. When you looked at him, his eyes were focused ahead, but you could sense the turmoil beneath the surface.

"We do this together," Gi-hun said. "And we make sure no one ever has to go through this again."

The room fell into silence once more. The weight of everything—of every loss, every sacrifice—pressed down on all of you. Then, with a sharp inhale, he straightened.

“We take the control room first,” he stated, his voice firm. “The entire island runs on that system—every camera, every security lock, every broadcast. Once we have it, we control the narrative.”

Jun-ho nodded, arms crossed. “The overseers will have the backups, but if we move fast enough, we can cut them off before they get the chance to reboot. We leak everything. We let the world see the truth.”

Hyun-ju leaned against the wall, arms folded. “And then what? Even if the world sees it, we’re still trapped on this island. The guards will come down on us before we even have a chance to escape.”

Gi-hun turned to Gyeong-seok and No-eul. “That’s where you two come in.”

The two guards stiffened slightly at the attention. No-eul spoke first. “We’ve already mapped out the guard shifts and their blind spots. We can secure an exit route while the rest of you handle the control room.”

Gyeong-seok added, “The docks are heavily guarded, but we know the security rotation. If we time it right, we can take control of a transport boat before reinforcements arrive.”

In-ho listened in silence, his mask discarded, exposing a hardened expression. His presence alone was imposing—once the enforcer of the games, now a rogue piece in a collapsing empire.

“And the overseers?” he asked, voice low.

Jun-ho hesitated. “They won’t let this slide. They’ll do everything in their power to contain this before it reaches the outside world. We’re going to have to face them head-on.”

The tension in the air sharpened.

“Good,” In-ho finally said. His gaze flickered to you, then back to the group. “Then we don’t hesitate.”

You studied him, the man who once stood as the face of the system you were now trying to burn to the ground. There was a quiet fire behind his words, something deeper—maybe even regret.

Gi-hun let out a slow breath. “This is our only shot. If we fail, we die here.”

Everyone knew it, but no one backed down.

Gi-hun looked at each of you once more before gripping the pistol at his side. His fingers flexed over the cold metal before he exhaled sharply.

“Let’s end this.”

A brief silence occurred. Then, you nodded, meeting his gaze. “For those we lost.”

The words hung in the air, sealing the fate of what was to come.

No more games. No more survival.

Now, it was war.

——

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A/N: I hope y'all like the concept of their alliance forming once again, minus the other players who really had a higher chance of dying in the actual show (in my opinion though). The epilogue will be up in a few days and I'm taking my time in editing and drafting it. With that, feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged in the last chapter! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @voxslays @thebluehair23 @coruja12345 @alliyah-ll @spiritualgirly444 @luvr4miya (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

CHAPTER 20 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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——

The conference room was cold, as always. The walls were bare, the air thick with the ever-present scent of sterile metal and quiet tension. You sat at the head of the table, eyes scanning over the documents in front of you — the final preparations for the next round of games.

Gi-hun entered moments later, his black mask tucked under his arm. His eyes flickered to the papers, then to you. “You look well-rested,” he noted, settling into his chair. “That’s rare for someone in your position.”

You smirked faintly, about to counter when his gaze landed on your hand. Silence stretched between you as Gi-hun’s eyes locked onto the engagement ring on your finger. His expression was unreadable at first, but then he let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

You glanced down at the ring, your thumb brushing over the band. “Surprised?”

Gi-hun exhaled through his nose. “Not surprise that he asked. Just surprised that you said yes.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And why is that?’

Gi-hun leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. “Because you don’t strike me as the type to settle for a man who keeps too many secrets.”

The words cut deep, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you straightened your shoulders, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. “I know what I’m doing.”

Gi-hun studied you for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. “If you say so.”

There was something else in his eyes, something unspoken — but you didn’t press. Instead, you moved forward with the meeting, discussing the final arrangements for the games. Gi-hun played along, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

Though he never said it outright, you knew he was already calculating his next move. 

The air inside the management sector of the facility was cold, sterile, and suffocating in its silence. The hum of monitors and the faint shuffling of masked guards moving with precision added an eerie rhythm to the stillness. You had grown accustomed to the controlled chaos, the weight of responsibility that came with overseeing the very machine that dictated life and death within the games.

Working alongside In-ho had been a test of both your discipline and your patience. He was methodical, a perfectionist in execution, yet he had an unshakable presence that commanded respect without the need for raised voices. You had learned his habits — the way he tapped his gloved fingers against the table when he was in deep thought, how his sharp eyes scanned over the daily reports with meticulous attention, and the way he adjusted the high collar of his coat as if shielding himself from the weight of his own conscience.

He relied on you, not just as a fellow overseer but as someone he trusted. He never said it outside, but you could see it in the way he glanced at you when a decision needed to be made, in the way he shared information with you that others would ever be privy to. You were his equal in this twisted empire, the one person who stood beside him rather than beneath him.

But the work was relentless.

In order for the games to work, the contestants should be constantly monitored, the staff required strict adherence to protocol, and the VIPs demanded entertainment that bordered on madness. The games would be starting soon and everything had to be perfect.

One evening, as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors of the management sector, something unusual caught your attention. The sound of voices — low and urgent, hushed yet unmistakable. Your footsteps slowed, heart rate quickening as you recognized one of them.

Gi-hun.

That wasn’t unusual. He was the Frontman now, stationed here like you. But the other voice sent a chill down your spine.

You edged closer, ears, straining to catch the words. The cadence, the sharpness — it was familiar in a way that made your stomach drop.

“…If we time it right, we can take out the surveillance feed for at least an hour. That should be enough for extraction.”

“Are you sure about this?” Gi-hun’s voice was quieter, laced with doubt. “She’s part of it now. There’s no telling what she’ll do.”

A pause.

“She deserves to choose.”

Jun-ho.

You stepped forward, your breath caught between disbelief and anger. The moment you emerged into the dimly lit room, both men turned sharply to face you. Gi-hun stiffened, guilt flashing across his face. Jun-ho’s expression was unreadable behind the circle mask he wore, but you could feel his gaze boring into you.

The room felt colder. The weight of their words sank in.

“You,” you whispered, eyes locked onto Jun-ho.

“Surprised?” He asked, his voice steady.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to regain control. “How are you here?”

“That doesn’t matter,” his tone was unreadable. “What matters is that you have a choice to make.”

Gi-hun exhaled sharply. “They’ve been keeping things from you.”

Your fists clenched. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but betrayal isn’t one of my games.”

Jun-ho stepped forward. “Then why do you still hesitate?”

Your lips parted, but no words came.

“You still have your humanity,” he continued, his voice softer now, less like an accusation and more like an offering. “You can feel it, can’t you? This place hasn’t completely taken you.”

Gi-hun chimed in, voice laced with something close to desperation. “You think this is control? That you have a say in anything? The games don’t stop. They never will. Unless someone does something.”

You swallowed, the weight of their words pressing into you like a vice. Jun-ho took one final step forward. “You can either keep lying to yourself or you can decide to change things.”

The choice hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. For the first time in a long time, you felt truly, painfully alive. 

——

The walk back to the private felt heavier than usual. Each step echoed against the polished floor, your mind burdened with the weight of what you had just witnessed. Gi-hun and Jun-ho had given you a choice — a choice that shouldn’t have shaken you as much as it did. 

But it did. 

For the first time in a long time, you felt something stir inside you. 

Humanity or whatever was left of it.

Your fingers twitched at your side as you hesitated at the entrance, exhaling sharply before pushing the door open. You expected silence. Instead, you found In-ho already there.

The sight before you made you pause. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back slightly hunched the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across his face. But it wasn’t just his presence that caught you off guard — it was what he was holding.

The small fabric of infant clothing was delicate in his gloved fingers, and beside him, meticulously arranged, were items you hadn’t even noticed before — warm blankets, a baby bottle, small things that would be insignificant to anyone else but to you, they meant everything.

A glimpse of fatherhood.

You didn’t realize how tightly you were holding your breath until you forced yourself to exhale. The sight was so different from the composed, calculating man you worked alongside everyday. Here, in this moment, he was just In-ho. 

Not the Frontman, not the overseer of the games, not the enforcer of death and order. Just a man staring at the fragile reality of the life growing inside you.

“You’re here early,” he murmured, but his voice lacked its usual authority. He didn’t look at you, still fixated on the small piece of cloth in his hands.

You swallowed, stepping further inside. “You weren’t at the conference room. I thought you were still occupied.” You sat on the bed, watching as In-ho knelt in front of you, gently placing his hands over your stomach. His fingers traced delicate patterns over the fabric of your robe, his expression unreadable yet undeniably tender.

“I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You tilted your head. “Believe what?”

“That there’s… life inside of you,” he admitted. His voice was softer than usual, filled with something rare—wonder, maybe even fear.

You reached down, placing your hand over his. “Does it scare you?”

In-ho hesitated before shaking his head. “No. Not in the way you think.”

“Then how?”

He exhaled, eyes flickering up to meet yours. “I’m scared of failing you. Of failing… them.” His gaze drifted back down to your stomach, his hands warm and steady. “I never thought I’d have this again.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, gently threading your fingers through his hair. “You won’t fail,” you whispered. “Not this time.”

In-ho leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against your stomach, his arms wrapping around you as if trying to shield you from the world.

For the first time in a long while, the weight of the organization, of the games, of everything—faded away. And in that quiet moment, In-ho wasn’t the Overseer.

He was simply a man who wanted to be a father.

Silence stretched between you both, unspoken words lingering in the air like ghosts. Your eyes flickered to the items on the bed again before you found yourself asking a question that’s been lingering on you.

“What’s left of you, In-ho? What humanity do you even have left?”

His expression shifted — subtle, but enough for you to notice the flicker of something deep within his gaze. Something almost vulnerable. His lips pressed together, placing the infant clothing down with deliberate care before turning fully toward you. “I could ask you the same thing,” the countered, voice low. “You tell me, what humanity is left in you? After everything we’ve done?”

You inhaled sharply, but you didn’t look away. “That’s why I’m asking. Because… I don’t know. I was just reminded that I still have it — no matter how much I tried to bury it under power and necessity.”

In-ho’s shoulders tensed. He turned his gaze to the floor, as if searching for an answer he wasn’t ready to admit. “Humanity is a weakness in a place like this. It gets you killed.”

“Then why do you still keep things like this?” You gestured toward the bed where the baby things were placed. “Why do you still hold onto this if you believe we have nothing left?”

He was silent. The question settled deep within him, unraveling something he had kept tightly wound for so long. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. “Because I still want to believe that there’s something beyond all of this. That despite everything, I still have a reason to keep going."

Your chest tightened. "Then you still have it," you whispered. "You still have your humanity, In-ho. You just buried it under all the hardship."

His fingers curled into a fist against his knee. "And you? Are you ready to dig yours back out?"

You hesitated, then finally sat beside him. "I don’t know. But I think I’m starting to remember what it felt like."

The room was filled with an unfamiliar quiet—one that neither of you had allowed yourselves to experience in a long time. And for the first time in years, you and In-ho weren’t discussing the games, the organization, or the next strategic move.

You were just two people who had lost themselves along the way, trying to figure out if there was still anything left worth saving.

——

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A/N: A bit of a short chapter today as I want to give my all on the last ones. I'm curious if y'all want a sad ending or a happy ending? Or do y'all want alternative endings? Please feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

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CHAPTER 19 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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A/N: This chapter mostly consists of Gi-hun's point of view. I have another chapter ready to make up for more moments with In-ho and the reader. 🫶

——

Gi-hun sat in the dimly lit room, fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair. The call with Jun-ho had ended, but his mind was far from quiet. His gaze flickered to the glass of liquor on the table before him, untouched. He wasn’t in the mood to drink, at least for now.

Instead, his thoughts drifted away as he thought more about his plans, weighing down each every plan a and b, even up to c, down to the end of the alphabet.

Gyeong-seok had entered the games as Player 246. All for his daughter who was waiting for him in the hospital as the bills pile up, all to save her. Along Gi-hun, he endured the horrors alongside the rest. When the rebellion broke out, he had been shot, though not fatal. 

No-eul made sure of that. Instead of leaving him to die, she dragged him away, patching him up in secret.

Then, she had given him a new identity. 

With No-eul’s help, Gyeong-seok had been disguised as a circle guard, blending into the very system that had tried to kill him. It was dangerous, but it gave them eyes inside.

Gyeong-seok blended inside the system well. It was a good thing the system didn’t care much about the circle guards - they had the lowest ranks. In order to be up, they had to do their tasks diligently well or prove something that would make them worthy of a triangle. Gyeong-seok wasn’t interested at all in being a triangle guard — all for his daughter. He needed a way out of this place, his loyalty still on Gi-hun even when the rebellion played, trusting his plans as the Front Man.

No-eul walked with her head held high, her triangle mask disguising the quickened pulse hammering beneath her ribs. Beside her, Gyeong-seok, dressed as a circle guard, carried the package in his gloved hands - a small, unassuming box containing the pregnancy test.

The air between them was thick with tension, neither of them speaking. They couldn’t as the surveillance cameras watched their every move, but even beyond that, there was an unspoken understanding. If they hesitated or if they so much as faltered, it was over.

Gyeong-seok inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the box. “She doesn’t know yet, does she?” He whispered under his breath.

No-eul shook her head slightly. “Not for certain.” 

Gyeong-seok exhaled, his breath shaky. “Then we’re about to change her entire life.”

They reached the door as the guard stationed outside barely acknowledged them — just another routine delivery from a superior. No-eul knocked once.

Moments later, the door creaked open.

You stood there as you scanned their masks, a sigh of relief coming out of you as you recognized the same guards you approached. No-eul didn’t speak as she simply extended the small box forward.

You reached out hesitantly, fingers grazing the cardboard edges before taking it fully into your hands. Gyeong-seok saw the shift in your expression as your fingers trembled. You swallowed hard, your eyes darting between them.

You gave them a nod and closed the door. No-eul and Gyeong-seok turned without another word, walking briskly down the corridor, leaving you alone with the truth you were about to uncover.

As they rounded the corner, Gyeong-seok exhaled deeply. “That was nerve-wracking.”

No-eul shot him a sharp look. “We did what we had to do.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I just hope she’s ready.”

No-eul didn’t answer. Because the truth was — no one ever really was. 

Gi-hun walked down the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps slow and deliberate. When he turned the corner, he spotted them — Gyeong-seok and No-eul, stationed outside the Overseer’s private suite. They were standing stiffly, exchanging only the occasional glance. There was something tense in the air around them.

Gi-hun slowed his pace, eyes narrowing. He glanced up at the surveillance cameras overhead, their red lights blinking steadily. Too many eyes. With a subtle motion, he tilted his head towards a corridor to the right — one that led to a maintenance area, just outside the CCTV’s coverage.

No-eul caught on immediately. She tapped Gyeong-seok’s arm, and without hesitation, they followed him.

Once they were in the clear, Gi-hun crossed his arms and gave them both a pointed look. “Talk.”

Gyeong-seok hesitated for only a second before exhaling sharply. “We delivered a pregnancy test.”

Gi-hun’s expression didn’t change, but inside his mask, something twisted. He had expected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a strange unease through him.

“She asked for it?” He questioned.

No-eul shook her head. “We noticed the signs. She was… avoiding it, but it was obvious.:

Gi-hun stared at them, his mind racing. This wasn’t part of the plan. None of this was. And now, she was carrying a child in this place, surrounded by danger, under In-ho’s control. 

His fingers curled into a fist at his side. For so long, revenge had been the only thing driving him forward. It had been simple. But now… now there was her. 

There was a baby. The thought of dragging an innocent life into this chaos made his stomach churn.

He didn’t speak for a long time. No-eul and Gyeong-seok exchanged glances, but they didn’t push him. They knew better.

Finally, Gi-hun exhaled. “You two did the right thing.”

No-eul relaxed slightly, but Gyeong-seok remained tense, watching Gi-hun closely. “What happens now?” He asked.

Gi-hun didn’t answer immediately. He looked past them, toward the suite, where you were. He thought about the plan, the rebellion, the revenge he had spent months working toward.

And for the first time, he hesitated. He turned away, staring at the floor. “I don’t know.”

Gi-hun wasn’t sure why he even came out of the balcony. Maybe it was instinct — the way he had always been drawn to the quiet moments before everything went to hell. Or maybe it was curiosity, watching you stand alone on the balcony, your arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought.

He had planned this conversation in his head. He would press, prod, and look for the cracks forming in your resolve. A pregnancy in this place? It was a liability — something he could. 

But as he stepped onto the balcony, on the other side you were already there. He leaned against the railing on his balcony, silent for a moment as he let the cool night air settle. The iland was quiet at this hour, save for the distant sounds of the waves crashing against the shore. 

He had spent so much time trying to picture you as the enemy — someone who had chosen this life, to stand beside In-ho, to uphold the very system he despised.

“You should be more careful.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the exhaustion in your eyes. It wasn’t just physical. It was the kind of tiredness that settled deep in the bones, the kind that didn’t fade with sleep. He hesitated.

He knew that at this moment, he had lost whatever leverage he thought he had as he glimpsed onto your belly. No matter how much he wanted to see you as the enemy, he couldn’t ignore what was right in front of him.

Of course, you shot back, still trying to regain your composure. But Gi-hun already knew what you were feeling — what you were so worried about.

“You should tell him soon,” he murmured. “Secrets have a way of eating people alive. And something tells me that this isn’t one you can keep forever.”

A long silence stretched between you. Gi-hun wasn’t thinking about strategy or even thinking about how to manipulate the situation to his advantage. 

He was just looking at someone who was struggling to breathe under the weight of something far bigger than either of you. And for once, he didn’t want to be the one to make it worse.

Gi-hun let out a frustrated sigh as he lit up a cigarette, placing it in his mouth as he puffed a smoke. He had seen people adapt to survival before, but he would never want an innocent life to fight their way into this place, what more for someone who hasn’t even been born yet? 

For a moment, his mind drifted back to the previous game. The way Hyun-ju had stood amongst the players, her shoulders squared, her eyes fierce. She had fought with everything she had, carving her own path through the trials laid before her.

He remembered the sound of her ragged breathing, the way she wiped blood from her face and pushed forward, even when the odds were stacked against her. She had never begged, never pleaded. She had simply fought.

As the rebellion progressed, the rebels were outnumbered. She went back to the dormitory to find out where Dae-ho had been, seeing him shaking nervously as he was wrapped on the bed, his hands over his ears. Just when she was about to grab the ammos back, the guards had already entered the dormitory, their guns pointed at the remaining players inside.

She fought back, not wanting to back down from the system. Just as when she was about to pull the trigger, the square-masked officer entered and walked towards her.

“Come with us,” the guard said, much to Hyun-ju’s surprise. Reluctantly, she pulled the rifle down as she glared at the officer in front of her, not wanting to show weakness. But right then and there, she knew she wouldn’t survive at all.

Even In-ho was impressed, as he ordered the guards to offer him something more in the system. He knew she had no one to turn to in the outside world, knowing how the world treated trans people outside. At least in this place, she had a purpose.

From the moment she wore the square mask, Hyun-ju moved like she had always belonged. There was no hesitation in her step, no sign of unease as she patrolled the halls of the facility alongside the other guards. She carried herself with an ease that suggested she had been doing this for years.

Gi-hun watched from the monitors, arms crossed over his chest, a frown tugging at his lips. “She’s adjusting fast,” he muttered under his breath.

A part of him should have been impressed. It wasn’t easy to slip into this world and go unnoticed. The hierarchy was rigid, the rules were absolute. But Hyun-ju moved through it like water, slipping between the cracks, bending just enough to not break.

She had already learned the unspoken rules — how to keep her head down when necessary, when to speak, and when to stay silent. The other guards barely questioned her presence, accepting her as one of their own.

He watched as Hyun-ju passed by a group of guards, nodding in acknowledgment but never lingering too long. She was smart. She knew how to avoid drawing suspicion while still observing everything. It was almost frustrating how well she was doing as it meant she was slipping deeper into the organization.

And the deeper she went, the harder it would be to pull her out. 

As Gi-hun puffed another smoke, his heart felt heavier as his mind drifted over the fallen players — Geum-ja, Yong-sik, Myung-gi, Dae-ho, and… Jung-bae. 

The worst part was how he couldn’t do anything at that time, watching them through the monitors as In-ho trapped him in an isolated room, watching them die one by one.

He remembered how he watched them fall one by one, their faces and movements struggling as they progressed through the games. Their bodies still held a vivid memory in his mind, scattered across the arena like discarded pieces in a cruel game.

Except for Jung-bae, who was shot by In-ho himself right in front of his eyes with no hesitation.

Geum-ja’s laughter still rang in his ears, sharp and defiant even in the face of death. She had been the first to die, standing tall even as the bullet tore through her. She spat blood, wiped her mouth, and cursed the organization with her last breath.

They had shot her again just to shut her up. The fire in her gaze was still there, that unbreakable will even as her body hit the ground.

Yong-sik lasted longer than anyone expected, his hands trembling though his heart had been steady. He tried to shield a younger player, stepping in front of them without hesitation. But then, the bullet ripped through his back.

He fell to the ground, gasping for air, his fingers clawing at the dirt. The younger player he had tried to save didn’t even look back. He had known what was coming as he still let out a smile before his vision faded into darkness.

“Eomma, wait for me.”

Myung-gi had fought. He had always been a fighter. He didn’t go down easily even when Thanos and Nam-gyu threatened his life a lot of times. 

His screams echoed through the halls as he wrestled with Nam-gyu, blood staining his hands, his face, and his clothes. Nam-gyu didn’t stop, trying to avenge Thanos’ death.  He had beaten him into dirt, but he had still gotten up.

Even with a broken arm, and even with his ribs caving in.

He looked up at Jun-hee one last time, whose face watched in horror as she clutched her belly. He managed to give her a smile as he glanced at her belly.

“Please survive.”

Then with one last punch from Nam-gyu, he was knocked out dead. His body had finally dropped, as if all the fight had finally drained out of him.

Dae-ho was different. Even in the darkness of the games, he managed to keep everyone light. He was strong and resourceful — surviving longer than most. But even the strongest had their limits.

He made it to the final round as the last three players, him, Jun-hee, and Player 021, had been pitted against each other in a brutal endurance challenge, forced to fight until only one remained. 

Dae-ho had held on longer than anyone expected. He was wounded, exhausted, and barely able to stand, but he still fought with everything he had left.

But in the end, it hadn’t been a fair fight. 

He saw Player 021 about to attack Jun-hee, who was sleeping on the other side of the dorm. He immediately noticed the makeshift weapon on his hand — a piece of shattered glass. 

With one last courage he had, as if to redeem the failure of delivering the ammos to the rebels, he ran towards the player and knocked him down. He fought relentlessly, gripping the other player’s neck. Jun-hee opened her eyes, waking up from the grunts near her. She screamed, though she couldn’t move. She felt a sharp pain in her belly as she tried to move.

Dae-ho successfully removes the shattered glass from the other player’s hand, diving the glass into the player’s neck, the blood sputtering out of him. But then, the other player’s reflexes were much faster, gripping Dae-ho’s hand with the shattered glass as he pulled it out of him, much to Dae-ho’s shock.

Then, Player 021 shot the glass into Dae-ho’s neck, letting out an ear-piercing scream as Dae-ho stumbled, clutching at the wound, his hands slick with blood. He had looked up, locking eyes with Jun-hee. He wanted to say something, but the wound was so deep that even the last sign of life faded into him in a snap.

Gi-hun’s hands trembled as he reached for another cigarette in his pocket. The lighter barely caught flame as he lit the end, inhaling deeply, as if the smoke could fill the void their deaths had left inside him. 

Then, the memories shifted towards the closest people he had in the games.

Jung-bae’s last moments weren’t at the hands of the other players. It had been In-ho.

Gi-hun had been there, kneeling in front of the Frontman, forced to watch as Jung-bae knelt on the ground beside him. The moment stretched out endlessly, suffocating in its inevitability. 

Jung-bae stare still haunted Gi-hun as In-ho pointed his gun at him, muttering his name.

“Gi-hun…”

Then, a shot rang out.

Gi-hun flinched as another piece of his resolve splintered away, leaving behind nothing but raw, seething anger as he clutched Jung-bae’s body beside him. 

Jung-bae had died, just like Sang-woo had — in his arms. Another person who could have lived, if not for this cursed game.

But then, Gi-hun’s mind made a dangerous connection. 

It hit him all at once — how you reminded him of Sang-woo. The way you strategized, the way you moved through the games with ruthless efficiency. The way you fought to survive, no matter the cost. But even with that, there was something different. Something he had seen in you that Sang-woo had lost by the end.

Humanity.

You still had it, buried beneath the weight of power and love. You were blinded by it, but it was still there.

Gi-hun exhaled slowly, pressing his cigarette into the ashtray. The ember dimmed, turning to dust. He wasn’t sure if you could be saved.

But he knew that he wouldn’t let you be consumed by the same fate, even if it meant going against you too.

The plan was set in motion. The cracks were forming. Any time, the organization would fall. He just had to time it really well.

But now, there was you. You were a liability.

It was a cruel thought, one he hated himself for even considering. But it was the truth. Your pregnancy complicated everything. It made the plan fragile and uncertain. In-ho would never let anything happen to you. If he even suspected that Gi-hun was plotting against the organization, he would tighten security, make sure nothing touched you or the child growing inside you.

He had promised himself that he would tear his place down, that he wouldn’t let another batch of desperate souls be slaughtered like cattle. The next season of the games was set to begin soon as the selection process was already underway. If he wanted to stop it before it even began, he needed to act now.

But, could he risk it?

His hand moved to his temple, massaging away the headache that had been brewing all day. He thought about you — the way you stood on the balcony that night, staring into the dark horizon, lost in thought. He thought about the weight you carried, the uncertainty in your eyes. 

Would he be willing to put you through even more?

Would he be willing to put your child through it?

Gi-hun’s jaw tighteneed.

Damn it.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

He had planned for everything — the guards, hierarchy, hidden tunnels, external leaks. But he didn’t plan for you to be carrying In-ho’s child, for you to be tangled in something so deep that he wasn’t sure he could pull you out without everything else collapsing.

Gi-hun closed his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose. He needed to decide.

Time was running out.

——

You had lost count of how many times you had woken up on the couch, the ache in your back growing worse with each passing night. But tonight was different.

You were in bed.

Warmth surrounded you as the familiar scent of In-ho filled the air. Your body stirred as you felt something soft and lingering, a gentle press against your forehead. Then another, this time on your cheek.

A kiss.

Your eyelashes fluttered open, and in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you saw him. In-ho was hovering over you, his expression soft in a way you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. His fingers brushed against your hair, tucking a stray behind your ear as his lips ghosted over your skin again.

“In-ho…” your voice was hoarse from sleep, but before you could say more, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

It was different from the ones before. This one wasn’t desperate, fueled by frustration, or unspoken words. It was warm, reassuring, filled with quiet apologies neither of you had spoken aloud. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of your shared space.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “I hated waking up without you beside me.”

Your chest tightened. The past few weeks had been unbearable, the distance, the fights, the silence between you. But here he was, holding you again, and you realized just how much you had missed him too.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, your fingers reaching up to cup his face. “I was just… hurt.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes filled with regret. “I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve—“ He paused, exhaling shakily. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

You curled into him, burying your face into his neck as his arms wrapped around you. For the first time in weeks, you felt at peace. The rise and fall of his chest soothed you, the steady beat of his heart anchoring you.

And then, you felt a small movement from him.

In-ho pulled back slightly, reaching for something on the bedside table. You frowned as he brought out a small velvet box, his fingers gripping it tightly. Your breath hitched.

“In-ho…?”

He exhaled sharply before opening the box, revealing a ring inside — a simple yet elegant band that shimmered under the soft light.

“I wanted to do this sooner,” he admitted, voice shaking every so slightly. “But everything happened so fast. And I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I hurt you. But please believe me when I say that I love you.” His fingers trembled as he took the ring from its box, holding it between you. “I love you more than anything. I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

Tears welled in your eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he continued, his gaze searching yours, raw and vulnerable. “I don’t want to wake up without you ever again. So please…” He swallowed hard. “Marry me.”

A sob escaped your lips as you nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Yes, my In-ho.”

Relief washed over his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking slightly. And the moment it settled in place, he kissed you again. This time, it was deeper, with more urgency, as if he never wanted to let go.

The world outside the suite was cruel, but here, wrapped in each other’s arms, the cruelty melted away. In-ho held you close, your bare skin pressed against his as the soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed you both in warm light. The silence between you wasn’t tense. It was comforting, filled with unspoken emotions, heavy with the weight of everything you had endured.

His fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, absentmindedly following the curve of your spine as you both lay tangled beneath the sheets. You stared at the ceiling, breathing in the lingering scent of him, of the night you had just shared.

It had been slow and tender — nothing like the desperate moments before, where anger or sorrow drove you into each other’s arms. This time, it had been about healing and love.

You sighed, a small smile ghosting your lips. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

In-ho let out a low chuckle. “Of course, I do. You threw a rock at me.”

You laughed, turning your head to face him. “You deserved it.”

He smirked. “I was just trying to get your attention.”

“You were annoying,” you teased, poking his side.

“And yet, you still fell for me,” he countered, his voice dropping into something softer. “Even after everything.”

You swallowed hard. “I never stopped.”

His hand reached up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he stared at you, like he was memorizing every inch of you. “Neither did I.”

The room fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t peaceful. A lingering thought hung between you both, unspoken but present.

Jun-ho.

You shifted slightly, breaking eye contact. “I spoke to Jun-ho before,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “He… he gave me options, Told me I could turn you in or that I could live the rest of my life with a lie.”

In-ho stiffened beside you. His fingers tensed against your skin, but he didn’t pull away. He exhaled slowly. “And yet, here you are.”

You nodded. “I couldn’t do it. No matter what you’ve done… I couldn’t betray you.”

He was silent for a long moment, and then he sighed, running a hand through his air. “I’ve tightened security. No one gets in or out without me knowing.”

Your stomach twisted at that. You knew what he was implying. Jun-ho wouldn’t have a second chance at infiltrating this place. If he tried, he would be caught. And you knew what happened to those who got caught.

You turned onto your side, pressing your forehead against his chest. “In-ho…”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. “I know,” he murmured.

The warmth of his embrace soothed you, but the unease remained. Then, without thinking, you whispered. “What about Gi-hun?”

In-ho tensed again. You pulled back slightly to look at him, catching the flicker of something dark in his expression. “He’s been a problem,” In-ho admitted, voice low. “For a while now.”

You frowned. “A problem?”

He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “He’s not the same man who won the games. He’s dangerous. He asks too many questions, pushes too hard. He’s always watching, always waiting for something.”

You bit your lip. “Do you think he’s planning something?”

In-ho sighed, rubbing his temple. “If he is, it won’t matter. Not with the security we have in place.”

You nodded, but a strange unease settled in your chest. 

Neither of you knew it yet, anyway.

——

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A/N: For those reading this a bit early, I am currently editing the next chapter and will have it up in a few minutes. Please feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged in the next chapter! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @voxslays @thebluehair23 @coruja12345 @alliyah-ll @spiritualgirly444 (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)