Han Jisung X Reader 한지성

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about you: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend, Minho. (9k words)

Author's note: It's a quick one-shot I made like a year ago but pls enjoy it nonetheless 😊

Content warning: Infidelity.

This is how you play two truths and a lie. You share three statements about you, two being true and one false, and people must determine which is which.

-

So here goes the first statement: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend.

A few months ago, you came to the city for your new job and were placed in a housing with a group of unbearable people. Since you've just started working, you tried looking at another option to get a temporary place to stay until you're financially stable enough to rent an apartment.

Long story short, a friend of a friend introduced you to Kim who happened to have an extra room you can rent. She owns the apartment and does not necessarily need the money, she offered her room for the sole reason which is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of that is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of person every day and for that, you're grateful for her.

After a week of living as roommates, you learn that Kim is just as graceful as her occupation, a ballet dancer. She's beautiful, kind-hearted, amicable, and ultimately, a very attentive roommate.

The room you're staying in was supposedly her private dance studio but she uses the living room to practice now and you have to adjust yourself to the huge mirror covering one side of the wall in your room.

Not long after that, Minho comes into the picture. A sharp nose, sharp jaws, and feline eyes, a beautiful face that only reminds you that the world is unfair to some people, including you.

"This is Minho," Kim introduces him with a smile

The second your eyes lock in a gaze with him, you feel an instant attraction and it intensifies as he stares back into your eyes.

"My boyfriend," Kim adds a little too late.

It's funny that the word boyfriend doesn't stop you from being attracted to him, if anything, you want him more than before.

Kim and Minho have been together for two years now and they met at the dance academy which explains a lot of things, including Minho's lean and toned body.

How do you know? Because sometimes he stays over and on more than one occasion, you found him walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a white towel hanging lowly around his waist.

That's also when you learn that this attraction is strictly physical, your uterus is acting up when you see him, and lewd thoughts rush through your head. It's all biological. There's no way you want to pursue him romantically, you couldn't even think of a person more deserving to be with him than Kim. They're both beautiful and talented dancers, oftentimes, you get so envious because they have such a lovely relationship.

Like tonight, you hear their laughter the second you step into the apartment, finding Kim and Minho in the kitchen just casually talking to each other while sharing a bowl of fruits. You love how simple yet endearing their interaction is.

"Hey, you're home!" Kim says with a sweet, welcoming smile.

You wave your hand at her and briefly at Minho, "Hi, everyone!" You awkwardly say, feeling like you're interrupting them.

"Have you had dinner?" Kim asks, attentive as always.

"Yeah, I grabbed dinner after work," you lie, but you can always creep your way to the fridge late at night for dinner.

"There's a pie in the fridge. Help yourself to some dessert," she sweetly offers then shoves a piece of blueberry into her mouth.

Without having to look, you can see how Minho looks at you, he has this deep, intense gaze that makes you the slightest bit intimidated.

"I will, thanks," you hurriedly respond, wanting the interaction to end as soon as possible, "I'll just... get into my room."

"Yeah, you should rest," Kim softly mutters.

You hoist your bag higher on your shoulder and head to your room, before you get in, you mutter to them, "Night, guys."

"Night," Kim cheerily says.

You hurriedly get in and catch a glimpse of Minho with his intense stare a second before the door completely closes and clicks in place.

The trick to surviving the night is to wait until they get into the bedroom and put headphones on as you come out of yours, not only to avoid hearing unwanted noises, but you reckon it's only right to take the extra measure to respect their privacy.

As you're listening and catching glimpses of the movie playing on your phone, you walk around the kitchen to prepare your simple, unhealthy dinner: a cup of noodles and a can of soda.

You're quietly eating your dinner by the kitchen counter with the headphones still on and once you finished, you treat yourself to a slice of pie, then put the rest of the pie back into the fridge.

It gets messy as you're munching on the pie while watching the movie on your phone. The cherry filling gets all over your fingers and you hurriedly lick it off before it gets—

"Oh, my God!" You shriek in surprise, seeing someone standing by the fridge. Once you realize it's Minho, you break into laughter.

"I'm just getting a bottle of water," he says, his face illuminated by the glow of the fridge lights.

"I'm sorry," you say while clutching your chest, and a second later, regret for saying it when he should be the one apologizing.

There's something different in the way Minho looks at you, he has one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, giving you the impression that he's thinking of filthy things when he looks at you like that. He's giving you that look now and it does certain things to you.

He then stops leaning against the fridge, taking the bottle of water as he walks back to the bedroom, leaving his signature faint smirk on the back of your head.

The signals are there, they're subtle yet constantly pinging, asking you to respond. For now, you're going to ignore it like you always do and continue existing like you're not sharing the same space with him.

-

Statement number two: You believe Minho wants to fuck you too.

At first, you thought you imagined it, you want to fuck him so you started being delusional and thinking that he wants to fuck you too. Once you started paying attention though, you realized that what he's been doing to you meant something or some sort of message he tried to deliver.

The first occurrence that came to your realization is when the two of you were in the kitchen, you were enjoying your yoghurt and he suddenly came behind you to get something from the drawer that happened to be blocked by your body. Instead of telling you to step aside, he made you stand there as his hand curved around your waist to get something out of a drawer.

From there, you noticed a lot of things he did, the way he briefly rested his hand on the small of your back as he walked past behind you, his hand that would often brush a part of your body when the two of you are next to each other or the way he would speak close to your ear as if he's seeking to be close to you. Simply put, he always tries to make physical contact with you.

The scariest part of it is not the possibility that the two of you will eventually get caught, but how unfazed he is even when his girlfriend is there. Like that night where the three of you shared the sofa and somehow, his hand found your shoulder and instead of retreating, he continued to caress the nape of your neck with his knuckle.

However, what happens tonight is what makes you believe that he wants the same thing.

After making sure that you're the only one still awake in the vicinity, you make your way to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower to help you relax and sleep faster. You skip on using the hairdryer since it'll make too much noise and tiptoe your way back to your bedroom.

In the middle of putting on your clothes, you realize that you left the door ajar and you notice Minho is watching through the reflection in the mirror.

Instead of stopping or rushing to close the door, you pretend to not see him there and continue, turning your body to the side, showcasing every curve of your body through the reflection in the mirror.

You arch your back as you put on the night dress over your head and slowly slip yourself in it, shimmying your body as you pull the dress down with your hands. Then you look at him through the reflection in the mirror and make it known that you're aware of his presence.

From the crooked grin on his face, you can tell that Minho is pleased to be caught watching you and you received his signal loud and clear: He wants to fuck you too.

But sadly, tonight's show is over so you walk to the door and close it.

-

Friday afternoon, Kim barges into your room and she rarely comes into your room without knocking on your door. Seeing that she's carrying a dress in her hand, you guess she needs your opinions on her clothing choices.

You sit on the bed and take your headphones off, "What's up, Kim?"

She stands at the end of the bed and lifts the dress with both hands, "What do you think?" She asks.

It's a mini dress with spaghetti straps in a deep purple color and it's a nice dress, you're just not sure if it fits Kim's style that well, she usually opts for dresses with flaring hem and floral prints.

"It's nice, Kim," you say but skip on giving her the detailed explanation.

She puts the dress close to her body and hugs it, "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," you shortly reply, even though it doesn't fit her style well, it certainly will look good on her.

"Good!" She shortly says, handing the dress to you, "Cause you'll be wearing it.

Somehow, you reach for it and awkwardly hold it in front of you, "W-why? Why me?"

Kim goes to your vanity table and flips open your jewelry box, she holds your earrings one by one to find ones that would match the dress.

"You're coming with me to this party," she says, leaving a lot of details in her answer.

"What party?"

"Party at my friend's," she simply answers, deciding on the gold small hoop earrings.

But that's against your plan, you want to steer clear of Minho and party at Kim's friend means that he'd likely be there too.

"Kim, I don't think that's a good idea," you tell her.

She then leans against the desk in your room and crosses her arm together in front of her, "These past few days you refused to hang out with me so you have to hang out with me tonight."

So Kim knows that you've been purposely avoiding her but you need to explain that it's not because of her, "But that's not—"

"Nuh-uh!" She quickly cuts you off again, "Tonight you're going to the party with me," she decides on her own, not accepting any more excuses from you.

"Is it okay though? I mean... it's your friend's party. I don't want to intrude," you meekly say while playing with the strap of the dress.

"Why would it not be okay?" She says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, "Besides I want to introduce you to Gaspard."

Maybe you owe this one to Kim and hearing a guy's name piques your interest, "And who is Gaspard?"

"A cute guy," she shortly answers with a sly grin on her heart-shaped face, "And you'll like him."

It's not like Minho's presence would bother you that much and Kim needs you, she wants you there, therefore, as a good roommate, you should be there.

"Yeah, okay, I'm in the mood to meet a cute guy tonight," you tell her, not forgetting to show enthusiasm as well.

"That's the spirit!" Kim says with a wide grin dancing on her face.

Well, since you'll be there and possibly meet Minho, Gaspard better be a cute distraction for real.

-

The taxi pulls up in front of a house and you reckon it's where the party at from how many cars are parked outside and the faint thumping of the music playing inside.

The fact that you get here by taxi only means that there's no Minho so you can relax, for now.

Kim excitedly links her arm with you as you both walk into the house and you expect a party with laid-back music and endless glasses of wine but the second you step inside, upbeat music is blasting from around the house and everyone is having beers from red plastic cups.

The party is not what you imagined it would be, but it's what you need.

Kim cranes her neck to find her friends and once she finds them, she raises her hand to signal her arrival to them.

"Come on! Let's meet my friends!" She says.

Please, God, let him be a cute distraction! You repeatedly mutter in your heart as she drags you with her to meet her friends who are gathered in what you guess is a rec room in the house.

When Kim's friends finally come to sight, you put on a smile as you quietly guess which one of them is Gaspard. Kim goes to hug them one by one before introducing you to them.

"This is Ellie, Jena, Paul..." she introduces her friends back to you one by as the mentioned person warmly greets you.

"And Minho," someone adds from behind you.

You immediately look over your shoulder to see Minho standing there, Kim gently slaps his shoulder in response and laughs.

"This is not a roll call, honey," Kim says with a smile and then leans in to give Minho a quick peck on the lips.

Minho is already here and there's no Gaspard yet. No Gaspard means there'll be no distraction. You keep your smile on even though you're slowly descending into distress.

"There he is!" Kim exclaims, pointing at something behind you.

You reflexively turn on your heels and see a tall man with brown hair, striking green eyes, and a scintillating smile. This man will make the perfect distraction.

Please let this man be Gaspard, you deeply wish inside your heart.

Kim comes to your side and puts her arm around you, "This is the man I told you about," she says.

"I hope you only told her nice things about me," Gaspard says with a sly grin that makes his whole face light up.

The universe heard your plea and decided to make it true for you, this is Gaspard, the perfect distraction you want and need.

"Holyfuck..." you lowly mutter in disbelief.

"What's that?" Kim asks, hearing you saying something but doesn't quite catch it.

You've already forgotten where you are and what you're doing. And Minho? Who is Minho? You let out a chuckle and shake these silly thoughts away.

"So this is Gaspard, huh?" You say in all confidence.

"That is me," he answers, returning the confidence with a wide smile, "I'm better than you expected, I guess?"

Gaspard is confident and then gets shy in the next minute which you find charming, you smile at him and say, "I need more time to decide on that."

"That's fair," Gaspard says, offering his hand at you.

You think he's just going to shake your hand but he takes you into the crowd gathered in the middle of the room, dancing.

"A fair warning, I'm a bad dancer," you warn him as he takes your hands in his and makes you stand facing him.

"We still have time to decide on that," he pokes fun at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you close to his front.

Kim is right, Gaspard is cute and you like him already. He has just the right amount of facial hair and it grazes your cheek whenever he leans in to whisper into your ear, giving you a tingling feeling inside and outside.

After a few moments though, you find yourself panting from dancing with him. You should've known this would happen when you're dancing with a real dancer.

Since Gaspard is way taller than you, you have to put your arm around his shoulder and stand on your tiptoe to whisper to his ear, "Hey, how about we get drinks?"

"Drinks?" He asks you in confirmation since the mix of loud music and chatter is filling the room.

"Yeah," you answer while repeatedly nodding your head.

He doesn't say anything but takes your hand and leads the way through the crowd to the kitchen where bottles of liquor are strewn around on the kitchen island.

You intently watch as Gaspard is excitingly making you his special concoction. He finishes it off with a spritz of lemon before handing it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter in gratitude.

"Come on. Taste it!" He encourages you, curious of what you think of his drink-mixing skill.

Well, you've been staring at it long enough to give him the impression that you hesitate to drink it. You hurriedly take a small sip and you don't even have to lie, it's good.

"Wow!" You gasp, impressed with the drink he made.

"I know," he confidently says with a smirk and drinks his drink.

It's so refreshing and sweet like it has no alcohol at all, you hurriedly take another sip.

"It's really good," you tell him.

"Thank you," he says with a grin.

He then offers his hand at you, "Let's find somewhere to talk?"

You take his hand without question, letting him take you wherever he wants because it seems like he knows where he's going. He leads you to the backyard where everyone is hanging out by the pool.

"Hey, you!"

Recognizing the voice, your head snaps toward the source, and see Kim waving her hand at you from the long sofa that curved around a fancy fireplace.

You stop walking on your track and end up leading Gaspard there. You unconsciously let out a sigh of relief after seeing that there's no Minho there.

"Oh, hey," you greet back.

Kim scoots to the side to make space for you on the sofa, "Where have you guys been?"

"Oh, we were just dancing and he made me a drink," you honestly answer, not forgetting to show her the drink in your hand.

"And where were you going to take her, Gaspard?" Kim asks with eyes squinted at him.

"Anywhere but here," he jokingly answers.

"Well, since you guys just got here, it's your turn to play!" Someone says, you can't remember what her name is but she's one of the friends Kim introduced earlier.

"Turn to play? What?" You ask in confusion.

"Two truths and a lie," someone says.

You feel bad for not being able to remember their names, Gaspard's influence is that powerful on you.

"You know how to play, right?" Kim asks.

It's not about whether you know how to play or not, it's just so unexpected that these talented, gorgeous dancers like to play this kind of game at parties.

"Yes, I do," you answer.

Kim turns on the sofa to face you and looks at you in anticipation, "Okay then. Shoot!"

"Right now?"

"Yes," Kim shortly answers with a chuckle.

You admire their eagerness whether for the game or to know something about you, you rake your brain to think of three things about you and one of them should be a lie that would likely fool them good.

"Okay first is uhm... I'm allergic to cats," you share.

There's no response from them but you can see how they're looking at you and probably every detailed facial expression you make that will give away hints about whether you're lying or not.

"Second thing is my mom has a twin," you confidently share with a faint smile.

"Ah," Kim lowly gasps and you guess because you've shared this information with her before.

"Last thing is..." you look around as you think of the last thing to share with them.

You eventually turn to the side and see Gaspard smiling at you, "I think Gaspard is cute," you share the third thing about you.

"That's the one! That's the lie!" Someone excitedly guesses, and you suddenly remember his name as Paul.

You laugh because Gaspard looks so offended by his friend, "No, it's not a lie," you quickly defend him.

Gaspard shoots him a glare and triumphantly laughs, "Just drink, man!"

Paul drinks his beer in defeat.

"I must say the second one is the lie," the girl says again, still can't remember her name though.

"No. Her mom has a fraternal twin," Kim says, learning that information from you on the first day you moved into her apartment.

"Drink up, Jena!" Kim tells her that she guessed wrong and not wasting time but drinks her beer as a punishment.

"Oh, so you're not allergic to cats?" Gaspard asks.

"No, I'm not. I like cats," you answer.

He then sighs in relief, "That's great because I have a cat."

"Oh, wow?!" You utter in disbelief.

Other than being a great distraction, you share a lot in common with Gaspard and that says something.

"I also have cats," someone adds, joining in on the circle.

You can tell by the voice that it's the man you've been trying to avoid seeing tonight. You remain calm and have a sip of your drink.

"Yes, Minho, we all know you're a cat daddy," Jena says, finally knowing her name from Kim.

Kim groans and tosses a cushion at Jena, "Don't say that!"

Minho takes a gulp of Kim's drink and sits with his back reclined and his legs spread open, even his sitting position oozing with confidence and you eat that shit up.

You feel like slapping your face at that thought and have another sip to swallow that thought down.

"Is it my turn to play?" Minho asks around.

Jena shrugs since no one is taking the turn to play, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Minho softly scratches his chin before speaking, "I want to kiss someone tonight."

He starts easy but from the faint smirk on his face, you can tell he's brewing something in his mind.

"That someone is not my girlfriend," he calmly says.

Welp, there you go! Minho acts like he didn't just drop a shocking statement while his girlfriend is sitting prettily next to him.

You glance at Kim and she looks calm, but you can see that her jaws are slightly clenched. She's not happy so Minho should stop it.

But instead of calming his girlfriend, Minho looks at you and continues to share the third statement, "The person I want to kiss is one of you."

Your heart skips a beat because he keeps looking right at you and making it obvious for everyone to see who it is. All of a sudden, you feel the urge to exit this scene but walking out only makes it even more obvious.

Minho is sick of doing this to you and Kim, it's like he doesn't even care what it can do to either you or Kim.

"Oh, Minho, that's..." Paul hisses, not able to finish his sentence.

"Why, Paul?" Minho daringly asks him.

"Nothing," Paul says while scratching his head.

Minho leans forward and says, "It's you, Paul. It's you who I want to kiss."

Paul's tense face melts in a second and everyone bursts out laughing, "Fuck you, man!"

"It's you. I want to kiss you," Minho taunts him more, throwing himself at him and jokingly tries to kiss him.

Paul keeps pushing him away, sloshing his drink as he tries to dodge Minho's kiss while everyone else is laughing at them.

Even though it turns out to be a joke, you feel sick in the stomach and feel the need to get out of here.

"I need to go to the restroom," you mutter, getting up from the sofa.

Gaspard puts down his drink, "I can show you—"

"It's okay. I can go by myself," you tell him off, you regret being so crass but you're sure he'll understand.

"Okay," he says, sitting back down on the sofa.

While clutching the hem of your dress, you head back inside the house and find the bathroom to only queue to get inside, you decide to try on the second floor. You can easily find the bathroom as it's wedged between two bedrooms.

It's a party, you're sure the host would be okay with you using their bathroom, you don't even need to pee or something, you just need a space to vent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you keep muttering to the reflection in the mirror.

When you touch your neck, you can feel a sheen of sweat there so you run your hands under the cold water and tap it to your neck.

This is the first time you realize what it'll do to you when it comes to following your desire. You'll ruin not only their relationship but also your friendship with Kim and she's been nothing but good to you.

"Fuck!" You mutter once again as you splash cold water on your face like it would help to put some sense into you.

Coming here was a bad idea!

But you're already here so you only need to stick to your plan, staying away from Minho and sticking with Gaspard. You allow yourself to spend a few more minutes just to compose yourself before coming out of the bathroom.

As you're about to climb down the stairs, the plan comes to a failure.

You see Minho is coming up the stairs and he seems to be looking for you as well from the way he stops once he finds you.

Instead of avoiding him as you planned, you feel the need to confront him about what happened a while ago. You grab the front of his shirt and take him into one of the bedrooms. The first one is locked so you try the other one and it's empty.

Once both of you are inside, you slam the door shut and push him against it.

"What the hell are you doing?" You aggressively ask, pushing his chest until his back hits the door.

"What? What am I doing?" He plays innocent but that smirk knows it all.

You slap his chest with both of your hands now but all you can feel is how firm his pecs are.

"You just don't care, do you?"

He puts his hands on each side of your waist and draws you closer, not hesitating to plant his mouth on your jaw.

"Minho!" You whine, ending up getting trapped in his hold with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He glides his lips up and presses a kiss there on the skin under your ear, sending a tingling down your spine as his warm breath brushes your skin.

You helplessly dodge away from his lips yet somehow, he manages to capture your lips in a kiss and oh, you hate it so much! You hate how you like the way he kisses you, so passionately and hungrily, he makes it known that he wants it so much.

Okay, maybe the kiss is a slip-up and you hurriedly pull yourself out of it. You push him and pull away from the kiss.

"You know we can't do this," you mutter but you're looking at his lips, tempted to kiss him again.

He ignores your words and kisses you again, and you fall into it again. You try harder this time and break the kiss.

"Minho!" You whine, looking away to not let the temptation win again.

Using it as an opportunity, Minho plants his mouth on your ear and nibbles on it, peeling a layer off of your sanity which brings you to slip down the slope again.

Your lips are colliding again, harder and deeper, causing even more damage than the previous one as his hands go all over you and pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

The two logics in your head are clashing against each other, the one wants to satisfy this desire and the other wants to get out of this situation altogether. If you follow the former then at least, your curiosity will be fulfilled and if you follow the latter, then you get to keep the peace.

As you are caught in that inner battle, you blank out and stiffen against him.

"We have to stop," you mutter to him.

But is that what you want? To stop when you already have your toes dipped in the water?

Minho also takes a moment to assess the situation, he looks at you with his lips red and wet, "it has to stop," he says in agreement.

You take a step back and feel the sudden detachment as he lets go of you and you can't believe that he agrees right away that this is the better decision. You can't help but think that he doesn't want you enough.

He stays standing there, leaning against the door and looking at you with his eyes dark and wide with lust.

"So what do we do now?"

That's such a wrong thing to ask you because what you want to do now is be selfish for the night, for one fucking night, and if you're going to do it, you may as well go all in, right?

Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

"Fuck!" you heavily sigh and take down the straps of your dress, sending your breasts spilling out of the front.

"Suck my tits," you order.

It takes Minho a moment to process it and when he finally catches on that you've made up your mind, he goes for it. He comes at you full speed, hands off the brake and head first.

His mouth lathers at your breasts before sucking at them like you asked, taking them in turns, and leaving them wet with his saliva.

"Nibble on my nipples," you command.

You look down to watch him obeying you, using his tongue to nibble on your blossoming buds and alternating it with his teeth next.

"Oh, fuck," you breathlessly mutter as he sucks hard on your nipple.

While his mouth is busy latching on your breasts, his hands are snaking to the back and kneading at your asscheeks, caressing them with his fingers, and teasing your underwear.

This feels so wrong yet so good, you have your inner battle still but your logic is being defeated by your body's needs. You pull him by the shoulder and make him kiss you again so you'll stop thinking.

The rattles on the door startle you both and Minho immediately pushes the door with his back, then holds the knob to not let anyone in. Whoever tries to get it seems to figure out that the room is occupied.

"Sorry," someone says from behind the door.

Minho immediately locks the door while you take a step back from him, he gives you that look again, the kind of look that sees right through you and knows that you feel conflicted inside.

"Kim is my good friend," you tell him, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest that it aches.

He comes at you again and kisses you in which you're returning with the same eagerness. He seems to know that it's the only way to make you stop talking and thinking altogether. He pulls you closer than before his hands snaking to your rear, cupping the ample flesh in his hand.

"This is terrible," you mutter as you break the kiss so you can take your underwear off.

"This is terrible..." you mutter again, pulling him close by the waistband of his jeans and proceeding to unzip his fly open, "Betraying her like this."

It's like your body has a mind of its own, it's doing the opposite of what you're saying.

You impatiently take his semi-hard out of its confine and stroke it in your hand, "terrible," you emphasize the word and nail it deep into your head.

Minho doesn't say anything but follows what your body wants, he kisses you again, sloppily with his hands mindlessly roaming around your body.

"Touch me there," you whisper into him.

Without looking, his hand knows where to go. It goes to where you want him to be, going to the front to that wetness between your legs.

"Put your fingers in."

Minho runs his fingers down your slit repeatedly before inserting his finger into you. One digit is enough to make you moan in pleasure as he pumps it in and out of you.

"Add one more."

He draws his finger out and brings his index and middle fingers, shoving them into your mouth to wet them with your saliva. He brings them back to your entrance and slowly pushes them inside.

"Fuck, oh..." you moan, burying your head in his neck.

Two fingers are going in and out of you and you're already losing it. You start to think of what his cock would be like inside you as it feels hot and hard in your hand, pulsating with so much desire.

His lips nestle in your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on the skin as your body clings to him for support.

"Curl them— Oh!"

Minho knows what to do, he curls his fingers and carefully finds that spot that makes you whine and moan at the same time, and the lewd noise echoes in the dimly lit room.

You look over your shoulder to locate the bed and start steering his body there, walking backward without having to take hands off of each other.

He slowly pulls out and breaks the kiss only to pull your dress up, making the dress hunched around your waist. You plop down onto the bed and get on, you take a moment to continue undoing his jeans and pull it down enough to let his erection free.

Without thinking, you put his cock into your mouth, take him as much as you can and compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand. You lick and suck, alternating those two as you enjoy every inch of his delicious length with your mouth.

Minho tangles his hand in your hair and gently tugs at it, "I feel so guilty," he says.

Oh, so he's not that selfish after all but the thought of him thinking of his girlfriend with his cock deep in your mouth doesn't make you jealous at all, it makes you feel more aroused than before.

"Oh, so guilty," he says between his hoarse, low moans as he stares back into your eyes.

You slowly pull away and replace your mouth with your hand, restlessly pumping his swollen cock.

"You should be," you tell him, sticking your tongue out of your mouth and swirling it around the pink tip of his cock.

All of a sudden, he grabs your hand and takes it away from his length, he then takes your other hand to pin it against the bed. He hovers above you as he kisses you again, his tongue prying open your mouth to taste more of you.

You can feel him rubbing his length between your folds and you spread your legs open so he can do it more, making you drenched than you already are.

It's obvious to you now that you want him, you want him so bad and what you want is only inches away from you, and you can feel how much he wants you.

"Put it in," you breathlessly say against his lips.

Minho wastes no time to position himself between your legs. He then holds his cock, lubricating it with your essence and giving it a few pumps to finally aims it toward your entrance.

The more time he takes to be inside you, the more impatient you get.

"Put it deep inside me," you demand, opening your legs wider for him.

Yet Minho keeps teasing your entrance, heightening your anticipation and the tension in the room, making you arching your back at him.

When he finally pushes in, he only inserts the tip. It's just the tip but Gosh! It feels good already when he starts thrusting at a slow, steady pace.

"That's it," you say, keeping your waist afloat to take more of him, "all the way in."

Minho is just as impatient. He takes your wish as his command and pushes the rest of his length into you, hitting you deep inside that you blank out and you can't hear your own scream of pleasure.

It only registered to you now that it's all real once you take a look at how his cock is fully buried deep inside you and there's nothing like the feeling of finally having your desire fulfilled. Minho feels so good inside you, every inch of his length fills you perfectly like he was made just for you.

"Oh..." you loudly moan as he starts moving.

You're in and out of you at how hard he's thrusting into you that it reverberates throughout your body and in the middle of it, you manage to look at him, his face is masked with pleasure from the way his eyes are half shut and his lips pressed together.

Maybe the two of you want it so much that the sex feels rushed and a little rough, almost animalistic even. You can feel you're about to cum and so is he.

"Don't cum inside," you warn him before bringing his head close for a sloppy kiss on his lips.

In return, Minho goes sloppy with his thrusts that the bed quakes along with his movements and you're gripping the sheet to hold on to. He's twitching inside you and your legs are shaking. The knot in your stomach keeps tightening and you feel like exploding at any minute now.

He incessantly thrusts into you while you keep gripping the sheet, he probably senses that you're on the brink of climaxing and takes you there, sending you into your release with your eyes screwed shut, seeing white. He cums not long after you and keeps himself deep into you, completely forgetting your warning.

When it occurs to you that he completely forgot about your warning, you slowly push him away and force him to pull out of you.

"I told you not to cum inside," you whine.

Minho's eyes fixated on the way his cum drips out of you, pearly white and glistening wet, inviting him to taste. He finds a way to solve it by settling his head between your legs and licking your mixed juices off of your cunt and not hesitating to swallow it. He sucks on your gushing hole before using his tongue to insert it, he makes sure to not leave any drop of his cum in you.

Watching him eating you and swallowing his own cum is getting you off in the best way, you suddenly don't mind it that much that he cum inside you. If anything, you want him to fill you so you get to watch him do it all over again.

"Stop, Minho! Stop!" You tell him, tugging at his hair to stop him from diving further into your wetness.

He abruptly stops and lifts his head with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. You grab him by the front of his shirt and make him hover above you again. You know you already got what you want and it's time to stop.

What are you going to do now? You ask yourself.

Seize the chance. This is probably the last time you ever had this chance and this could be the one and only chance. You roll him over and straddle him, thinking of having him again for the last time, selfishly.

Taking a moment for this could be the only chance you get to do it, you look at him and his beautiful face, and you allow yourself to kiss his lips. You're running your hands down his clothed chest and patiently unbuttoning his shirt, then part it open to reveal his toned upper half body.

It's only fair if you get to touch him all over too so you do it, using your hands and your lips next, it's just you and miles and miles of his warm, honey skin.

Minho lets you do everything as he lays on his back, watches you kissing every inch of his abdomen, and eventually has him in your mouth again. He props his hands against the bed to see how your lips wrapped around his cock.

After a while, you suddenly pull out and gasp for air, "We have to stop."

He sits up on the bed and puts your hair away from your face, "But I don't want to stop," he says, then continues putting your hair away to the back so he can kiss your neck, chest, and breasts.

They're just words, they've been just words that you say in vain and have no effect to make you stop whatsoever. You only say that just to remind you that this feels so wrong but it feels good to do it.

You sit on his lap and position his cock at your entrance again, slowly, you lower yourself on him. You let out a mewl as you take him in little by little, feeling his girth stretching you out.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks you with his hands cradling your head in between.

"We have to," you sigh with your eyes closed, overwhelmed by his cock that buries deep inside you.

"I don't want to," he breathlessly says, holding you by the waist, guiding you to start moving.

Putting your arms around his shoulders for support, you're switching between pulsating and rolling your hips around him as he latches his lips on your neck and chest.

Somehow, he feels bigger and harder inside you, and he fills you better, therefore, you just want to keep feeling his length around you. However, in the middle of it, your logic fights to come out of you.

"This is wrong," you breathlessly mutter.

"Mmh-hmm," he hums against your lips, mindlessly answering to you.

"This is so wrong, Minho," you say again as you keep moving to chase your high.

If this is wrong then why it feels so good? If this is wrong then you never want to be right. If this is wrong then you want to be a sinner, forever.

"Oh, I can't do this anymore," you cry, it's unclear whether it's the body or your conscience speaking.

"Keep going, keep going," he repeatedly mutters through his gritted teeth, watching you bouncing on his cock.

The sex is more intense and harder than the previous one, you keep holding your breath even though you're running out of air. Your nails dug into his skin, your mouth locked with his lips, and you feel a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

It all comes down to the one moment when everything hits you all at once. Other than the wave of dopamine and oxytocin that surge through your body, you feel good, you feel light and happy, but underneath that, you feel that bitter feeling, guilt that is gnawing and eating you alive from the inside.

You open your eyes and find Minho looking at you with a soft gaze and it feels tender that you feel like crying, or you're about to as you feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"Oh, God! What have I done?" You roughly brush the hair stuck to your moist forehead.

"It's okay," Minho says, trying to justify this act of betrayal.

"Oh, my God!" You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to stop you from crying.

Minho gently holds your chin and softly presses a kiss on your lips as if he's trying to take the pain away but that's useless because you caused this yourself and he's a part of the problem.

But his kiss no longer holds the same effect, you feel restless the more he kisses you so you slowly pull away and keep a safe space between you and him.

"Let's just stop," you say with a sigh and then rush to get off his lap. You lowly gasp from the sudden emptiness and once your feet touch the floor, you're staggering backward.

Then, you feel it, his hot cum that drips out of you and down your inner thigh.

"I can help you with that," Minho offers.

You immediately hold your hand up at him and firmly say, "Just stop!"

You start fixing your dress, putting your arm in the straps, and pulling them to your shoulders. You look around for your underwear and once you find it, you put it on.

"Kim can't know about this," you meekly say as you pull the hem of your dress and smooth them down.

There's no looking back at it now. You've got what you wanted and now it's time to move on. You turn the door knob and head out without saying anything else.

Rejoining the party downstairs, you immediately head to the kitchen to get a drink but on the way there, someone catches you by the hand.

"Come, dance with me!" Kim says with a grin, pulling you with her to the middle of the room.

"Kim, I–" you can't find anything to say to her without the guilt clogging your throat, "I need a drink."

"Here. Have mine!" She hands you her cup.

"I'll get us drinks and get back to you, okay?" You kindly refuse her but she won't let go of your hand.

"Oh, come on, it's my favorite song!" She pleads with her puppy eyes, making you feel worse than you already are.

Seeing her and how oblivious she is to what you and Minho have done is breaking your heart.

That brings you to the third and last statement: That will be the first and the last time you've had sex with Minho.

-

Things are going back to normal. Or that's what it seems to you.

You're still roommates with Kim and she's still oblivious about what you and Minho did behind her back which means he keeps true to his promise.

And yes, he still comes to the apartment but it doesn't bother you as it used to. You learn that your friendship with Kim is far more valuable than his boyfriend's cock, in fact, you've been taking her kindness for granted.

So for these past few days, you've been trying to avoid them as much as possible. You purposely come home late from work and if you do find them together in the apartment, you make excuses to stay in your bedroom.

Fewer interactions means fewer chances of this guilt from bringing you down further.

The new plan is to get your own place as soon as possible and for that to happen, you have to start looking for it.

Today, Gaspard offers to help you check a few places and it's also the perfect getaway than staying in the apartment. You quietly get dressed and slip out of your bedroom to find Kim catches you while dunking her teabag into her cup.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

You don't want to tell her about it yet that you plan on moving out soon so you make up an excuse on the spot, "Just getting a few things for work, yeah," you lie.

She tosses the teabag into the trash and uses a spoon to stir it, "Just getting a few things for work, huh?"

"Yeah, I need new work shoes," you lie again, seamlessly this time.

"And you think you don't need my help?"

"No, no," you hastily reply, "I just know how much you like staying in on the weekends."

"I would to go out on the weekend too."

Kim keeps misunderstanding you so you decide to tell her, "I'm going out with Gaspard," you admit, but keep the details from her.

Kim lets out a laugh and puts down her cup of tea, "Oh, my God! Why did you lie about it?"

"I don't know. It feels weird," you awkwardly answer.

"Why would it be weird? Cause he's my friend?"

"Yeah..." you meekly say.

She laughs again and comes up to you, "Why would it be weird that my roommate is going out with my good friend?"

That's true, this is nothing compared to fucking your roommate's boyfriend. You swallow the guilt that crawls out of your throat.

"I can lend you my shoes to match it with that cute dress?" She offers, kind as always.

"No, it's fine. It's comfortable this way," you say, opting for the sneakers you're wearing since you're going to do a lot of walking today.

"As long as you're comfortable," she says, fixing your hair as she speaks.

The front door opens and the two of you are turning your heads to see who's coming, it's none other than Minho. You hurriedly sling your purse around your shoulder and ready to leave.

"I'd better get going," you tell Kim, giving her a quick hug.

"You can come home as late as you want," she jokingly says as she hugs you back, "Actually, don't bother coming home tonight."

You laugh it off and pull away while ignoring Minho who walks to the kitchen to get something out of the fridge. You head for the door and wave bye at Kim before getting out.

-

The search for a new place comes to fruition, you have two potential living spaces but the only problem is you can't afford the rent, yet.

You end the day with a hearty dinner also as a treat for Gaspard for being so helpful and patient with you. He's simply a great guy to be with and you wonder why didn't you want to fuck him instead of Minho.

Oh fuck, you think about Minho again and it reminds you that he's in the apartment now so you stay out as late as you can. You consider Gaspard's offer to come and visit his place but you don't want to give him the impression that this is a date.

It's too casual to be counted as a date in the first place but you make sure to promise him a proper one next time.

"Maybe next time when I'm not sweaty and the day is not as humid as today," you kindly refuse the offer.

"I agree," he says as his hair turns a lot curler in this humidity and shyly brushes it to the back.

He walks you to the entrance of your apartment building and you turn on your feet to face him, "Thank you for today," you sincerely say.

"No worries. I had fun today," he coyly says with a smile.

You know he wants to kiss you and you want to kiss him too because he's just so attractive and fun to be with, he's a great guy... you can list so many reasons why you should kiss him so you muster up the courage to do it.

You stand on your tiptoe and press a kiss on his lips, putting your hand on his shoulder for support and Gaspard returns the kiss with so much gentleness with his hand cupping your jaw.

In the middle of it, you come to a realization that you kiss him for so many reasons but not because you like him. You slowly pull away from the kiss and quickly put on a smile for him.

"Goodnight, Gaspard," you mutter.

He allows himself to place a gentle caress on your cheek and smiles back at you as he says back, "Goodnight!"

The walk back to the apartment feels like a punishment. At least, it's late enough that you're sure Kim is already asleep by now so you quietly unlock the door, pushing it open without making any noise, and walk through the living room until you get to the safety of your room.

You kick your shoes off, throw your purse onto the bed, and take off your jacket, just standing there in your dress facing the huge mirror with your reflection staring back at you.

"Do you need help with that?" Minho asks through the cracks of your door.

You hate it that he's still here and you're happy to see him, you're not answering but he comes to your aid anyway. He stands right behind you and slowly unzips your dress for you.

It must be intentional the way his knuckles graze your skin as he pulls the zipper down your back.

The memories from that night come back to you and unlock all the feelings that you try to keep at the bottom of your heart.

Minho then places his hand on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror, "Do you need help with anything else?" He asks with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.

You turn your head to the side and meet his gaze, "No."

All sorts of thoughts come rushing through your head but it's the same contradicting questions: Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

Those questions going around your head and won't stop bothering you until you make up your mind.

You turn around to face him and notice how close he's standing in front of you, so close that you can feel the heat his body is emitting.

"But I'll help myself," you say and then kiss him.

Well, you guess people can tell which one is the lie now.

-

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(❤︎) ── “ i couldn’t help myself ”

its not seungmins’ fault he finds you so attractive, its also not his fault that you promised him you would let him do this. and it’s especially not his fault you turned him on right before he was gonna start a match.

𐀔𓂃 kais note: hi! this can totally be read as a stand alone or if you have prior knowledge to CAL ! heres that extra i promised you!

warnings : fingering, cockwarming, unprotected sex, and anything else i missed. not proof read… 1.5k words

back to library | control alt + love masterlist

‘ill be home in 30 minutes, hyunjin had to use the bathroom’

you stared down at your phone replying back a quick ‘ok’ to jeongin, walking down the stairs hoping to find your boyfriend, since he wasn't in his room. seungmin was sitting in his gaming chair, staring at the loading screen. seungmin must've heard you walking behind him as he slowly turns his body smiling at you.

“well don’t you look pretty. are you still hanging out with hyunjin and jeongin?” seungmin leans on his arm rest taking in the cute top and skirt combo you were in.

“yes, hyunjin wants to go to this galla and he has extra tickets, though i'm third wheeling. unless you wanna come with us.” you put on your best puppy eyes in hope that you can convince him, stepping in between his legs. 

“cant today baby. i'm teaming up with atz today. we wanted to try out that new support character.” he places the palm of his hands on the back of your thighs, rubbing them softly. he leans forward placing a kiss on the small sliver of skin peeking from under your shirt. 

you place one of your hands on his shoulder as the other wraps around to the back of his head, softly playing with his hair. 

“do you wanna help me?” he mummers against your skin, as his hands travel up your thighs landing on your ass, giving it a squeeze. 

“i don’t really want to play, plus jeongin is gonna be here in thirty and i dont wanna afk.” seungmin wasn't really paying attention after he asked that question. he was more focused on how pretty you looked in this skirt, so much so that he started to feel his dick harden in his sweats. you slightly jump when you feel his fingers reach out and rub against your slit over your panties.

“seungmin, we can’t.” you grip tighter at the back of his hair, as you feel his fingers dip in your panties lightly playing with your clit. you softly moan as you feel him entering his finger in you. your head falls back when he slowly drags it against your walls, inserting another one.

as we start rocking your hips in the rhythm of his finger thrust seungmin leans back pulling his fingers out of you. 

“oh my game is starting.” he gives a smirk at the face you are giving him, in absolute disbelief. “come here baby.” seungmin quickly pulls his sweats down letting his hard cock spring free, slapping against his shirt. you start to go down when he stops you, shaking his head with a soft smile. “no baby, i need to be in you. right now. this instant.” he helps you slide your panties to the side, and helps you slowly sit down.

you slowly make your way down his dick, completely filling you up, both of you letting out a moan when you sink all the way to the bottom. you slowly start to grind against him, when you see his hands reach around you grabbing his headset and putting it on. 

“you arent seriously gonna game right now with your dick in me?” you stop your hips, turning back to see his beautiful smile looking at you. he places a quick kiss on your nose, “you promised me remember?” he then kissed you on your lips.

“promised what?” feeling the ache in between your legs from the lack of movement. which only makes you grind against him more.

“i just need you to sit here and look pretty, my love. don't move, it defeats the purpose.” 

“what purpose?” you were starting to get irritated with this little game he was playing.

“cockwarming baby, now don’t make any noise you know these mics pick everything.” was all seungmin says before he reaches around you, his hands on his keyboard already talking to one of the guys in the party. 

you hold in your voice from the small movements seungmin is unintentionally doing mind completely on the game in front of him. but as for you, you felt like your skin was on fire. you felt extremely turned on with seungmins dick in you, you could feel it twitch every now and then. beckoning you to bounce on it. you lay your hands on the edge of the desk in front of you, letting its cold touch try to get your mind off the need to move. 

seungmin thrust his hips up, loving the way your hands completely flew up over your mouth to stop you from being heard. seungmin turns off his mic, “you okay baby?” he places kisses on the inside of your neck, his eyes and hands never leaving the game. 

“baby please, i can't.” you pant out, losing every strand of self control. you needed him to fuck you, and you need it bad. 

“just a few more minutes baby, seonghwa just has to level up and then i can fuck you my love.” you moan at his voice gently rubs your ear. you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, you continued to sit on him scared to move, because you knew if you did he wasn't gonna be happy. 

your eyes were shut completely, focusing on your breathing you feel seungmin pull you up, bending you down over the desk careful to not ruin the setup. 

“since you have been such a good girl for me, let me give you a treat. especially since hyunjin and jeongin should be here any minute.” with the thought of your friend walking in on you, you moan out. 

“oh does my pretty baby want to be seen taking my cock like the little whore she is?” seungmin was giving you a chance to reply as he pounds into you from the back. pushing up your skirt to get a better view of his dick getting lost in you. seungmin was in pure bliss letting the moans and noises coming out of his mouth. you loved when seungmin was vocal, it always made your heart swell knowing he was getting off to this as much as you were.

“fuckkk.. baby.. you feel so good. god..” he pants in between, you turn your head to glance at him from behind. to see his head leaned back, eyes screwed shut taking in the way you are so warm and wet for him. 

you feel seungmin softly rub the top of your ass before he lets out a loud smack right on it, forcing out a moan from you. seungmin leans over right in your ear. “i feel you baby, i feel you about to cum.” you whimper out, turning to capture his lips on yours. seungmin pulls back, kissing your cheek, before going back to his original position and plowing straight into you. 

“god , if you keep squeezing me like that, i might just cum in you.” you couldn’t help but feel yourself squeezing even hard on him, in hopes he got the idea to actually do it. 

you could feel your legs getting numb and your high getting higher, seungmin could feel it too as he started to pull you back into him. 

“min.. im .. gonna. i'm gonna cum.”

“do it baby. let's cum together.” 

it didn't take much after that, you could feel seungmin releasing into you. while he could feel you fluttering around him. seungmin pulls you down to sit back on top of him, kissing at shoulder and whatever he could get his lips on. “i love you min.”

“i love you too baby.” he wraps his arms around your waist basking in your warmth not ready to pull out yet.

the swinging of the door pulled you both back to reality. “yo yo yo! dude sorry we took forever, jeongin drives like a grandma.” hyunjin's voice echoed across the room. you quickly jump off of seungmin as he lets out a hiss from his dick being so sensitive. you pull your panties back to where they were, slowly feeling seungmins and your cum pool at your panties making you cross your legs to try to stop it from leaking . seungmin wasn't in any rush to put himself back in his sweats until he started to hear jeongin's voice ring out.

“sorry i abide by the traffic rules, you know every 3,700 people die everyday due to road accidents?” 

“when the fuck did i start dating google? you ready babes? oh your blush looks so good, new placement?” hyunjin looks at you as seungmin smirks, going back to his game.

“yeah.. new placement. let's go!” you place a kiss on seungmin saying a quick i love you, walk out the doors before hyunjin and jeongin could gather what just went down a few minutes ago. 

“the communal space is for the community, captain. not for you to practice exhibitionism with her.” jeongin groans, turning back from your disappearing figure to see seungmin laughing.

“shes just so pretty i couldn't help myself.”

hyunjin gags and jeongin groans as they follow after you unknowingly about to get teased like no tomorrow.

© strrykais ⋅

cal tags: @onlyhyunjin @chenlesfavorite @hippopotamusdreamer @vegetablesarefuntables @soondoongdoriii @jeonginplsholdmyhand @nappynapnaps @sincerely-sun @staytinyluv @kimseungminpabo @seungzsmin @sweetasmarie @hinanitiram @tricky-ritz @ayyonoona @hanniemylovelyquokka @toplinehyunjin @missystay @binniesbabe @tirena1 @jihoons-kitten @skz-ot8-stay @darlingz99 @khandzilla @icouldntcareless22 @rihaee @thatshroomiegirl @sillyhal @livixcore @dazzlingjade @h0rnyp0t @drewsandsebastianswife @jabmastersupriseee @flaminghotyourmom @velvetmoonlght @mihoonz @jazziwritesthings @thisrandombitch @vixensss @galbiirocher @skzstannie @babrieeee @ladybeautiful18 @hyeon-yi @lknosemole @night-storm7 @spearbinnie0327 @goldenmellow @jisungs-iced-americano @charlieg1rl @seungminsteddybear @sskzlover @abbiestearsricochet @isaenme @dreamerwasfound @ihrtlix

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현진 ─── give me more

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬[ minors do not interact! ] solo hwang hyunjin drabble . praise kink , masturbation , use of imagination idk ♡  ― basically this is about hyunjin getting off to the thought of fans touching him and worshipping his body (all fans imagined in this are obviously legal age) i wrote this because ever since i saw these vids hyunjin has been driving me insane bye ♡ masterlist

the adrenaline still hummed in his veins, a phantom sensation lingering on his skin—the ghost of hands that had traced over his arms, his chest, his back. soft fingers, eager touches, the warmth of a thousand bodies pressing in close, their collective hunger feeding something primal inside him. hyunjin had let them, basking in the attention, in the way they reached for him like he was something divine. like he was made to be touched.

now, alone in the dim glow of his hotel room, that feeling hadn’t faded. if anything, it had settled deep, a slow, aching pulse between his legs. he exhaled, dropping onto the mattress, muscles still taut from the stage, skin too hot, too sensitive. his shirt felt suffocating. he peeled it off, letting the cool air kiss across the places where hands had been, imagining they were still there.

a slow drag of his palm down his torso, nails scratching lightly. his lips parted at the contact, a flicker of a sigh escaping. they had touched him everywhere, fingers grazing his waist, pressing against his spine, ghosting over the line of his throat. his mind twisted it into something filthier, something darker. what if those hands weren’t fleeting? what if they took, claimed, worshipped?

his breath hitched. he pushed his sweatpants lower, his cock already hard, aching with the thought. a shudder ran through him as he wrapped a hand around himself, the imagined sensation of dozens of hands making his fingers feel inadequate. he wanted more. wanted to be devoured, to be nothing but sensation under the weight of their touch.

his grip tightened, strokes rough, desperate. his head tipped back against the pillows, lips parted as he let himself sink into the fantasy—nails raking down his chest, lips pressing into his skin, the dizzying rush of being wanted so completely. he imagined the warmth of their breath against his throat, the press of lips against his pulse, murmuring words of devotion. his body tensed, his muscles coiling tight with every slow, deliberate pull of his hand.

the pleasure built quickly, a molten heat curling low in his stomach. his thighs trembled, his breath stuttering as he chased the sensation, hips lifting into his own grip. he imagined hands holding him down, keeping him still, forcing him to take it, to be utterly lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being touched, being worshipped. his own moans filled the quiet space, raw and unrestrained, his body unraveling under the weight of his own fantasy.

he could feel the pressure cresting, that intoxicating edge drawing closer, his body tightening in anticipation. his strokes turned frantic, his entire form strung taut with need, with hunger, until the tension snapped, pleasure crashing over him in waves so strong they left him shaking. his orgasm ripped through him, white-hot and all-consuming, spilling over his fingers as his breath came in ragged, broken gasps.

even now, he could still feel them. the ghosts of their touch, the remnants of his own desire. it wasn’t enough. it never was.

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𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄 𝘁𝘄𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀 ➞ 𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻

➞ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝘁𝘄𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀, 𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳𝗳, 𝗷𝗲𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳𝗳, 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗵 & 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆, 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻, 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗲𝘁𝗰.

➞ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲??

𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻 fucking you while standing, with one of your hands resting on the counter as he slams in and out of you.

𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀 who covers your mouth while he fingers you, to keep your moans a secret from the members, who are in the room over.

trying to fit 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻'𝘀 cock in your mouth, despite it being too large for it to fit fully in you. but, you might as well try.

breathing in and out steadily, 𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀 holds the leash attached to the collar on your neck, pulling it when he feels close to ejaculating.

𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻 trying to fit his large dick into your smaller, and much tighter, pussy.

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻 who lets you go on top, just for you to end up making a mess.

𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀 who has you on top while thrusting into at a quick speed, playing with your clit as your bodies slam together.

𝘀𝘂𝗯!𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲 who whines as you pump his cock in your hands. his tip turning a reddish color, showing that he's about to cum.

𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁! 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝗱𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗯𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗶𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗶 𝗮𝗺 𝗱𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿 ♡

An eye for an eye.

assassin!hyunjin x journalist!yn. slow burn. suggestive and angsty at times. she/her pronouns. 7.4k.

it is perhaps the most decisive night of your life. what are the odds that at the same time and place, it happens to be hyunjin’s too?

warnings: mention of alcohol, guns, bruises and injuries. brief talks of grief.

a.n: this is prompted by how hot villain hyunjin looks in the ate era 😭 it was supposed to be a drabble and i didn’t plan on it to be this long.. but i hope you’ll enjoy reading tehee it’s different from anything i’ve ever written so please feedback would be so appreciated,, muah muah 😘❣️

A ruby red lipstick. 

Your first childhood dream was to become a journalist, but not the complacent, obedient kind. You wanted to shed light on uncovered events, dig into the raw truth with your claws, and hold it up for the entire world to witness. You craved justice. You never believed in letting things flow their way, like a current that morphs into a torrent, destroying everything in its path.

No, you were a dam, forcing the water to change its trajectory. After all, you have always believed that all it took for change to happen was a trigger, a single flicker that would in turn burst into flames.

You wished to be it.

It was hard to grow into this specific kind of journalist, though. Not because you lacked drive, passion, or discipline. Especially not because you weren’t curious enough, brave enough. You were Seoul Press’s youngest and brightest reporter, after all.

But in a highly competitive field, you still needed your big story, your breakthrough which would put you on the radar of esteemed awards that all journalists venerate. Though you deemed it much easier to obtain a Pulitzer than to squelch your heart’s quest for truth, justice, and most importantly, in an unpredictable curb that life threw at you— revenge.

Your second childhood dream was to put on ruby red lipstick. Your thirteen-year-old self deemed it the ultimate show of power and confidence, each time you saw your aunt wearing one to her most important meetings. You dreamed of the day you could put it on as well, on your way to uncover the truth. 

And tonight, as you applied your ruby lipstick precisely, gliding the vibrant color across your lips, you felt nerves tighten like thorny vines in your stomach, puncturing your tender skin and leaving you a bloodied mess from within. 

Tonight, in your black gown and your ruby lipstick, in San Heo’s mansion, your country’s most prominent presidential candidate, and the man who ruined your life, it seemed like you were about to achieve both dreams at once.

… 

The clock hand points nine on Hyunjin’s Tank Louis Cartier watch. He throws a fleeting glance at the Victorian watch, before eyeing the people mingling at San Heo’s party. 

He knows all of the guests, memorized their faces and their habits. He knows the school where they drop off their kids and what bar they frequent every Sunday. He memorized their mannerisms and antics, knows what set them off and what did not.

This is the fruit of two years of work, after all.

He knows exactly why everyone is here, tonight particularly. Three politicians’ families and friends gathered as a show of power, to prove that they weren’t afraid of whoever’s been forcing politicians to come clean about their crimes for the past three months.

In the least glamorous manner, at that too, to put it delicately—ten bloodied tapes sent to the country’s most prominent media channels, where ministers and heads of multinationals are bound by ropes to a chair, recalling their most heinous crimes: money laundering and embezzlement for most, theft and murder for some.

The latter is Jung Cho’s case, San’s most successful competitor for the presidency, who has also mysteriously vanished from the police’s grasp since the release of his tape. No one can get a hold of poor Jung Cho anymore. 

Hyunjin smirks lightly to himself. His knuckles seem to have healed well since he last dislocated Jung Cho’s jaw. Well, that was before he shot him through the roof of his mouth.

The golden cuffs of Hyunjin’s Versace blazer reflect the light of the dangling crystal chandeliers, and he runs a weary hand through his black locks. He never chose to gel them back; he wasn’t one for structure, preferring the feeling of his silky strands brushing against his fingers. 

His eyes catch those of San’s across the room, who tips his glass of whiskey towards Hyunjin—a job well done, he reads in San’s stare. Hyunjin raises his red wine back, before settling it across the table once more.

It is a boring half an hour that awaits Hyunjin.

That is until he sees you.

You weren’t here two minutes ago, Hyunjin is sure of this. And, judging by the way you are leisurely sipping your sparkling water, your eyes gliding across the room in search of someone in particular, you had just stepped foot into the party.

Fashionably late, if he were to add.

But that is none of Hyunjin’s concern. What intrigues him the most is that your face isn’t familiar to him. That isn’t normal.

You weren’t supposed to be here, then.

Who are you?

As if hearing his question, your gaze locks onto his. He cocks an eyebrow at you; you mirror the gesture like clockwork.

Thus ensues an intense game of eye contact. You don’t break away from his gaze until two minutes later, a light scoff escaping your lips that he can discern even from afar. You then turn to look at San, your eyes morphing into something fiercer, more determined— a sniper finally locking eyes on its target.

Hyunjin feels a slight headache growing at the base of his temple. He downs his drink, before taking long strides towards you.

It’s official, you’re going to be his nuisance for the night.

27 minutes.

“Care to dance?” Hyunjin inquires as he materializes before you, a hand extended towards your body.

“Pardon?”

“A dance? To the lovely music we are hearing right now?” 

“I know what you mean,” you roll your eyes, leaning your body against the chair right next to you. Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over your legs peeking through the high slit of your dress. Had it been another setting, the sight of your black sheer tights would have made this night turn much differently.

Your voice dispels his thoughts like morning fog. “I mean why are you asking me?”

“Because I’m bored.”

“How flattering,” you grin sarcastically and Hyunjin feels the smallest urge to return your smile, although he knows it isn’t genuine.

“I know. Shall we?”

Your gaze flees to San once again, seemingly debating something in your head before finally sighing.

In the few seconds of scrutiny you consecrate to his boss, Hyunjin’s gaze lingers on your bright red lipstick, and the way you tuck your lip slightly into your mouth as you ponder.

A beautiful nuisance, he corrects himself.

“Fine,” You place your manicured hand in his in response.

“What’s your name?” he asks, as he settles one hand atop your waist. The fabric of your black dress is too thin, he can feel the heat emanating from your body seeping through his palm.

Focus. You need to discover who she is.

“Julia,” your hand settles atop his shoulder, while the other entwines with his. “And you?”

“Sam. What are you doing here?” he quickly inquires.

You shake your head slightly, gliding your hand from the base of his neck to the end of his shoulder.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask you a question?”

Hyunjin tilts his head curiously at you, before smirking slightly— “Yes ma’am.”

“What do you work for?”

“I’m Mr. Heo’s political adviser.”

“You’re quite young, though,” you note.

“I know.”

“And I don’t see you by his side a lot.”

“I work in the background, mostly. I don’t do well with the cameras.” He spins you around, picking up speed as the orchestra picks up the violin. “How do you know Mr. Heo?”

“I’m Kang’s niece, you know, Mr. Heo’s economic adviser? Uncle Kang is ill, and my father is out of the country so both of them chose not to come.”

Hyunjin’s memory faintly brushes off Kang’s single niece, completing her architectural studies in Paris’ Sorbonne. 

“C’est beau à Paris?” Is it beautiful in Paris?

You don’t even blink— “Même magnifique, tu devrais visiter.” Marvelous even, you should visit. 

Checks out.

“I’ll hold you on to that offer,” he says, before spinning you around, your chest settling across his back. Hyunjin ignores how his heart skips a singular beat at your proximity.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, his lips tantalizingly close to the shell of your ear. He watches as your chest rises once before your airy voice floods his ear.

“Networking, though you didn’t quite allow me to speak to anyone but you,” you tease slightly.

“I fail to see what an architect has to do with politicians,” he muses, as he sways you gently from left to right.

“I want to oversee the building of Jamsil Sports Complex.”

“So you’re using your father for work connections?” he taunts and you swivel around, placing both your hands on his shoulders before interlinking your fingers behind his neck, caging him within the notes of your perfume.

“Is it a crime?” your voice is airy, too airy, everything you say sounds rehearsed, you don’t seem intimidated by him, by this setting, as opposed to how a newly graduated student, one who grew up away from her father’s world should.

“Depends on your definition,” he counters.

“Do you regard it as such?”

Hyunjin’s gaze flickers all over yours. He senses something urgent in your gaze, as if you are pushing for more, beyond what this simple question entails.

When he remains quiet for a tad too long, you let your hands drop by your body, taking a step away from him.

“I need to go,” you say. He grabs your wrist instantly. “Where to?”

“Bathroom.” And with that, you quickly turn around and walk away, leaving behind notes of your floral perfume and ghosts of your ruby lips.

Hyunjin steals a glance at his clock. 09:13 p.m.

He drags a hand across his forehead wearily. He won’t let you ruin this night.

17 minutes. 

You are washing your hands obsessively in the bathroom, lost in thought as you gaze at your reflection, all blurry from your unfocused eyes. You only turn off the water once your skin starts to sting from the force of your touch. 

The orange-scented soap doesn’t seem to get rid of the stench of blood. 

A week ago. 

“I don't understand your obsession with Mr. Heo,” Christopher Bang calmly removed his glasses, placing them next to the shiny placate reading ‘Editor in Chief of Seoul Press’.

“He is corrupt.”

“As all politicians are,” he spoke matter of factly, and it angered you how unfazed he seemed before your, you admit, far-fetched request. 

“You don’t understand, sir. He’s different.”

“Did he do something to you?” Chris asked, leaning back against his chair. You felt exposed all of a sudden, like a flower left bare without its stem. 

“Would my answer change anything?” You inquired tentatively. 

“It would explain many things, yes actually,” he got up from his chair, before sitting on the one right across from you. “You are a talented journalist, Yn.”

“Thank you—“

“But you are utilizing the company’s resources to conduct your personal investigation on San Heo.” 

He knew. 

“You’ve been working on his case from the day you joined our media. Which was exactly 389 days ago. I know that you’ve managed to uncover quite some dirt, one that would make an explosive case if you get more information. That’s why I turned a blind eye to everything you did because I trust your skills and integrity.” 

You remained silent.

“But now, you’re asking me to completely disregard my deontology by finding a way for you to break into Mr. Heo’s mansion. That is a crime.”

“Not break in. I want an invite to his party, it is the first time he organized one in his home, probably the last time, it is my only chance to—”

“Details,” he waves a hand disinterestedly in the air, cutting you off. “Your intentions aren’t to mingle with politicians, it is to dig in his office and find something of substance. While I admire the lengths of what you want to go through, I must stop you here.” He leveled his eyes with yours. “This can land you in jail, he is the most important man in our country right now.”

“What if I tell you he did something to me, that he ruined my life? Would you help me then?” your voice was hoarse, tears pricked your eyes as you tried your best not to avert your gaze. You hated displays of weakness, despised them even more in professional settings. 

“What did he do?” 

You bristled at the question, ugly memories flashing before your eyes like a blinding light, your body begging you to flee away from this question and the heavy response it entailed.

Still, you spoke. 

Christopher remained silent as you recalled what happened on your doomsday, the night in which your world ceased to spin, and simultaneously, the reason why you joined his company, to begin with. When your sniffles subsided a few minutes later, he gently handed you a napkin, a silent invitation to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his weary face before finally speaking. 

“I’ll give you the invite tomorrow. Say that you are Kang’s niece, her name is Julia. She went to Paris for architectural studies, and that you are back for a vacation. Kang is ill these days, he won’t attend the party, and his brother is out of the country, no one will question you.”

“How do you know this?” 

“Because I know them,” he toyed with his lower lip lightly before a tiny smile drew upon it. “An eye for an eye, right? I’m Kang’s cousin. I changed my last name because I didn’t wish to deal with them anymore.” 

“So Bhang isn’t your real last name?”

“No.” He ran his thumb across his lower lip, seemingly debating adding something. “San’s office is on the far end of the third floor.” 

You heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

13 minutes. 

It was one thing to stare at photographs of San seared behind your reddened eyelids or to stand at the far end of his press conferences. It was another to step foot into his mansion, to stand amidst powerful people who are capable of ruining your life had they known of your motives. 

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your personal feelings. Fear, nerves, all of those feeble emotions pale before the chance you have today. So, you nod at your reflection in the mirror, count to three in your head, and finally head out of the bathroom. 

“Five minutes, were you crying?” Sam’s bored voice startles you as soon as you set foot outside. He’s leaning on the wall across from the door, hands deep into the pockets of his suit.

Not again. 

“I know that I’m very pretty but don’t you have better things to do than to follow me?” you ask, pausing right in front of him. 

“I’m not following you, I just happen to be particularly fond of the architecture of this corridor,” he jokes and you ignore his words, walking past him with a renowned determination. He pushes himself off the wall, only to grasp your wrist once again, spinning you around until you’re facing him. 

He chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side. His icy blue contacts pierce through your skin like a puncture needle.  “You know, I’m curious, Julia. You seemed very eager to get away from me.”

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. “Have you considered that I found your company utterly boring?”

“You wound me,” he places a hand on his heart, any trace of humor absent from his voice. His grip tightens on your wrist for a millisecond. A warning. “I need you to leave.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

“And why should I listen to you?” you challenge and his eyes darken further. 

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then let me go,” you mutter, slipping your hand away from his grasp. 

“Julia,” he says sternly, pulling you back till your back is against the wall, his hands rooted on either side of your body. 

It is a dimly lit hallway, and the sound of the orchestra barely reaches you. Your worry intermingles with a new kind of nerves, all orchestrated by his proximity, and the way his gaze brushes against your body like a skilled painter. 

“I’m not joking, leave.” His voice is much softer when he adds, “It’s for your own good. What will happen later doesn’t concern you.”

He knows something that you don’t know, something that, from his tone, none of the guests are aware of. You see something human in his eyes, in the slight crease doting his eyebrows. He seems genuinely worried for the innocent civilian he thinks you are. 

Your eyes turn to look at his hand near your head, only to notice his faintly bruised knuckles, shades of purple and green doting a delicate porcelain skin. They have healed well, then. 

Should you unearth the memory from two weeks ago— pleas for mercy, a deafening gunshot, and an excruciating silence afterward, the quiet after the murder that you remember most? 

Then, another scene rings in your head like bells of an ancient church— a bruised hand brushing against your own in an art gallery from two days ago, raven locks, and familiar, melancholy-tinted eyes. 

Could it be? 

Your voice turns sweet, tender, “should I trust you for the night?” your thumb brushes against the skin underneath his eye, wiping away the concealer you knew you spotted.

There it is, the eye mole you thought he covered. 

It clicks in your mind in an instant, pieces of a puzzle falling into place, there are still a few missing but you manage to grasp the bigger picture.

If he’s not letting you go then he could be of good use. 

What other choice do you have but to gamble with a killer? 

Your sharp nails drag across the nape of his neck, before settling right beneath his jaw. You mimic a gun, his eyes narrow in response.

“Is this how you killed Jung Cho, Hyunjin?” 

You feel a cold barrel instantly press against your stomach. “Police officer?” he asks. 

“No.”

“Journalist ?”

“Yes,” you slowly mutter.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t wish to tell you.” The gun only presses further onto your skin. You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your exposed spine. 

Breathe. 

“It’s Yn.”

“What do you know?”

“It’d be easier for me to talk if you removed the gun,” you smile lightly and Hyunjin only leans further, a distance as thin as a blade between you both.

“Speak.”

“You killed the only candidate that stood a chance in front of San. You drove him to the empty deposit near Inwangsan Mountain, tortured him for three days, filmed his confessions, and then sent them to many media outlets. Ours included. I know it because I followed you.” 

“Why did you follow me?” he questions. Your eyes flee to the end of the corridor where an impossible staircase sits. You are wasting your time. 

“Because I am investigating San. And through following him I ended up getting to know you. You are different from everyone he meets. Very secretive. So I figured it’d be worth a shot following you too,” you explain as calmly as you can. You’re sure the barrel of the gun will leave a bruise on your skin. 

“And why didn’t you write a piece about me? Everyone is dying to know who I am.”

“I have, I just haven’t released it. If I don’t come back home in an hour my head chef will post the video of you murdering Mr. Cho on every SNS. The public loves you for what you’re doing. But the politicians will come together to kill you. They have a price on your head. You are threatening everything they ever built.” 

Hyunjin drags his gun up your stomach slowly, trails it across your collarbones before it settles on your jaw. 

“I could kill you too, right now.” His tone is cold, evil. Very different from the man who asked you to dance. You know that I can.” 

“My death would only sign yours.”

Hyunjin’s forehead rests on the wall right next to your head. You can hear him inhale deeply, hear the gears turning in his head. “Fuck, you are driving me crazy.”

He drops the gun and takes a step back. “Why didn’t you expose me?”

“You are not the one that matters to me.” 

“What do you want from me then?” 

“Three minutes. Open San’s office, and then I’ll go. No one will ever know of your identity.” 

He remains silent. 

“Hyunjin, please.” 

“Fuck, fine. But whatever happens next you’ll have to trust me, okay?” his hands settle on your shoulder, his eyes leveling with yours, “if you’re not leaving then you’ll have to trust me enough, for tonight.” 

8 minutes. 

“After you,” Hyunjin bows slightly as he opens the door to Heo’s office. You step in first, and he steals a quick glance behind him—no one’s here, for now.

“That saved me the hassle of breaking the door.”

“You know how to do that?” he asks, slightly impressed.

“One of my hobbies,” you shrug before walking directly to the desk. Hyunjin leans against the wall, watching as you lift your dress slightly, revealing a small packet tucked into your garter. The sight drives Hyunjin a little crazy, and he closes his eyes for a second.

He really, really wishes he hadn’t met you here tonight.

You take out a listening device, tapping the bottom of the desk until you find a suitable spot, and then you stick it in place.

“Another one of your hobbies?” he smirks.

You giggle. “Mm, aren’t I the most fun?”

“You are,” his eyes drag across your figure, and he notices a slight falter in your posture, “the most beautiful too.”

You blink, and he’s suddenly in front of you, trapping you between the auburn desk and his toned body. You don’t seem intimidated, placing a palm on his chest as you tilt your head to the side. 

“Aren’t you curious why I’m going after San?”

“No, he angers a lot of people.” His thumb caresses your cheek, a touch so soft in contrast to his next words. “A lot of people fantasize about his death.”

“Are you one of them?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Right now, all I’m fantasizing about is you.” His voice is husky, and he finds it comes out much easier when he actually likes the person he’s attempting to seduce. 

It takes you a few seconds to speak again. “Is that so?”

“Mm, let’s dance.”

“Didn’t we dance downstairs?”

“That was Sam and Julia dancing,” he says as he entwines his fingers with yours. “You see, Hyunjin is a different kind of dancer.” His hand presses against your back, snaking against your bare skin. “Can I pull you closer?” he asks, and you simply nod, eyes fleeting widely all over his face. 

His chest presses to yours, so close he’s sure your hearts are syncing with one another, his inhales alternating with your exhales. 

“Yn,” he whispers your name, as you look up at him through the curve of your eyelashes.  

“Yes, Hyunjin?” His name sounds soft as it stumbles from your ruby lips, innocent from all the blood that drenches his soul.

“I like the way you say my name.” He glances at his watch above your head. 9:57.

“Hyunjin,” you repeat, as your hand drags up his neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair and gently dragging it backward, exposing his enticing neck to you. “You are always looking at your watch, what are you waiting for?”

He chuckles faintly, grabbing both your hands and spinning you around till his chin rests on the small of your shoulder. “You’re perceptive,” he mutters, as his fingers drag down your bare arms. “But so am I,” he says coldly as he grabs both your hands, bringing them behind your back. “Look, your hands are shaking just from my proximity. I don’t think you have it in you to film me killing Jung Cho. I don’t think you have it in you to watch me torture someone for three days.”

Click. Cold metal wraps around your wrist in an instant, handcuffing you to the leg of the table before which you’re standing. 

“I think you lied to me, Yn. I don’t like being lied to.”

“What are you doing?” you ask disoriented, panic spilling from your being like an overflowing cup.

Hyunjin pays you no mind, taking out his phone and dialing a number. “Boss, we have a problem. I caught a journalist trying to get into your room,” he taps his chin slowly as he looks at you. “No, no need for security. Just come alone. Don’t alarm the guests.”

2 minutes

“Are you serious?” you ask as soon as he hangs up, a prominent lump in your throat. “You told me to trust you.”

“Did I say I was worth that trust?” he pouts, seemingly mocking the vulnerable ordeal you found yourself in. 

A loud chuckle escapes your lips, your head thrown back as if before a hilarious spectacle of sorts. Hyunjin frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest as your giggles slowly quiet down. 

“You’re a peculiar person, aren’t you Hyunjin? You need to hide your identity but you crave normalcy still, so you open your art gallery. You go to crazy lengths to cover your moles and wear contacts because you wish for people to look at you with admiration in their eyes, kindness. But you don’t deserve it.” There is a fire lit in your eyes, flames latching into his black suit and burning his already scarred skin. “You’ll always be as evil as them.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t respond for a while, his eyes simply softening at your words.

“I know,” he whispers. 

“Who’s this?” San’s voice booms loudly as he sets foot into the office. Hyunjin’s eyes break apart from your figure to look at San, bowing slightly to greet him. 

“Julia, she infiltrated the party,” Hyunjin explains, stealthily locking the door behind San. “She’s been investigating you for quite some time now. And… She knows about the murders.”

“Mm, she’s clever. Should we hire her?” San jokes and Hyunjin smiles politely, dragging his eyes over your face. You simply roll your eyes, seemingly more bored than scared. 

Cute. 

“Anyways,” Heo stares at you for a fleeting second before tapping Hyunjin’s shoulder. “She looks easy to kill. Just get rid of her. But don’t stain my carpet though, it's expensive.”

“Sure thing,” Hyunjin nods, taking out his gun and pointing it at your temple. He steals a final look at his watch— 9:30 p.m. he reads. 

Time’s up. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you go?” Hyunjin mocks, cocking his head at you. In a split second, a bullet ricochets loudly, but not at you. It grazes San’s ear, making him pause near the door, his back towards you both. 

“Right boss?” Hyunjin’s tone is slightly whiny, annoying is the best way to describe it. You can hear police sirens blare loudly outside, see the red and blue hues reflect off the window. Loud shouts erupt downstairs, Hyunjin leisurely reloads his gun, one hand deep into his pocket, San’s posture slightly falters, his fingers digging into the skin of his palm. 

“Do you hear that Heo? Your mansion is surrounded. All your filthy dirt is exposed. The police officers are arresting everyone downstairs right now. And they’re coming for you. The man of the hour.” Hyunjin makes a show of curtsying deeply. You stifle a giggle at his theatrics.

“You dare turn your back on me?” San yells, pivoting around to face Hyunjin’s barrel, the latter simply yawns as if it’s a regular Saturday activity for him. 

“Oh, don’t get emotional on me,” Hyunjin pouts, before his eyes narrow down coldly. “Now kneel. Let’s end this without staining your carpet.”

You see San slowly lowering himself to the ground, Hyunjin’s gaze sets on you for a millisecond, his pupils dilated in apology, in concern, you don’t know, you don't get to decipher his look because San is taking out his gun from his back pocket, aiming it at Hyunjin. “Watch out”— is all you manage to shout, and hyunjin ducks in an instant, propelled by the sound of your voice to the ground.

He could have died, he could have died because he looked at you. 

It all happens so fast, Hyunjin diving into San to take away his gun, both their weapons flinging into the air, San punching Hyunjin’s mouth and the latter retaliating by flinging his fist up against his nose. You’re struggling with your restraints, trying to reach out for the lone gun that fell to your right. 

A bit more, tune out the sirens, tune out the punches, slowly, only a few centimeters left, your wrist is on fire but that is the least of your concern, almost, there, you grab it.

You fire the gun.

It’s quiet once again, for the first time in two years, it is quiet in your head.

It’s over. 

You close your eyes, tilting your head back into the desk. The sound of your mother’s laughter floods your ears, her airy giggles as she brushes your hair and tucks you into her chest, her being a vision of beauty underneath the sun’s caress. 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin kneels before you, wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks with his bruised knuckles. He is worried, even behind those icy blue contacts, you can still grasp his worry.

You nod, swallowing the sob that is lodged within your throat. Hyunjin is quick to unlock your handcuffs, entwining your fingers with his as he pulls you off the ground. 

You slightly push him aside, your eyes set on San’s bleeding figure. He’s still alive, rugged breaths escaping his chest, his palm pressed to the bullet that punctuated his stomach. 

“I want him dead,” you mutter, grabbing Hyunjin’s forearm to support yourself, “but I want him to rot in prison too.” 

“He will, for all his crimes. I have it all documented. The police have it too,” his palm rubs soothingly against your back, you lean further into his touch.

“He’s a monster.” 

“I know. They all are. That’s why I killed them,” he simply says, before guiding you back to a couch on the right of the office. He shrugs off his suit, draping it over your trembling shoulders. 

“Give me a minute.”

You watch as he grabs the gun you fired off of the ground, before taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wipes your fingerprints, making sure to leave his all over the gun. He then walks to the table, taking away your listening device and crushing it to the ground.

He’s calm and collected as he rearranges the scene to his liking, it looks like he has done this a million times before, as if this is the element in which he thrives— a sunflower turning to face the sun, at long last. 

He kneels before your freezing figure one last time, tilting your chin to the side so you’d look at him.

“I fired the gun. You had no idea any of this would happen, you’re just an ambitious journalist who wanted an insider scoop.” He senses you’re somewhere far, pulled by the ropes of memories that had long haunted your dreams. His warm palm presses to your cold cheek, your eyes are glossy as they rest on him. 

“You didn’t do anything. I’m the one who used you as a scapegoat to bring San up here, just like I agreed with the police. Alright? You did nothing.You know nothing.” 

“Alright.”

Hours pass in a cold blur, the weight of time lost on you as three police officers take turns questioning you. You repeat the lines Hyunjin taught you, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. Even as you step out of the police station, with Hyunjin's hand resting gently on your back, you feel nothing. A slight tremor runs through you when he mentions that San survived and will be transferred to prison once he's healed.

You don’t know why you’re disappointed you didn’t become a killer.

You don’t know anything, don’t feel anything as Hyunjin drives you home. You don’t question how he knows your address or the code to your elevator. It’s only when you unlock your door and he starts to pull away that reality snaps back.

Without thinking, you grab his wrist, suddenly aware of the loneliness that awaits you inside, an uninvited guest preying on your vulnerable heart.

“Would you like some tea?” you ask, your voice tinged with hopelessness, knowing just how silly you sound. Why would he stay? He has so many loose ends to thread after his finishing blow, you know he’s part of something far larger than you. 

As if mocking your question, his phone buzzes for the tenth time in the span of five minutes.

But then, to your surprise, he turns it off.

“Yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “I’d like some tea.”

As you bring the water to a boil, Hyunjin rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt, casually wandering around your apartment as if it’s not his first time setting foot in here. He’s always at ease— with a gun pointed at him or while looking at the souvenir magnets on your fridge. 

His calmness helps instill some peace in your heart too. 

“I like your apartment,” he says, accepting the cup of chamomile you hand him. “It’s cozy, feels like a home.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as you sink into the couch, your head hung low. So much has happened in just half an hour, too much for you to fully comprehend and process.

“Let me see,” he says a few sips later, as he gently removes the cup from your clutch, before sliding his thumb across your right wrist. The bruises have already begun to form, the red marks from the handcuffs clear evidence of your struggle to reach the gun.

“I’m sorry I involved you in this,” he murmurs, frowning as he avoids your gaze, staring intently at your wrist as if he could will the blue hues away. “I didn’t plan for you to be at the party.”

“I involved myself,” you chuckle softly. You’re not one for physical touch, but you don’t feel the usual urge to pull away from his grasp. His hands are warm, the roughness of his fingertips a stark contrast to the softness of your skin.

“You’re a stubborn journalist,” he says with a small smile, finally meeting your gaze. you suddenly yearn to look into the rich brown of his eyes once more. Was its shade as deep as you remember?

“And you’re an excellent painter,” you retort, eliciting a surprised laugh from him. The sound is unexpectedly endearing, and you’re caught in a whirlwind of contradictions. Is this really the same man you saw taking a life? The same man now holding your wrist as if it were made of porcelain?

“Right, you figured out my identity. What gave me away?” he asks, still smiling.

“I heard about this new gallery where the artist’s only clue to his identity was the name signed on his paintings. So, I decided to see for myself. While everyone else was captivated by the artwork, I noticed you, standing in the corner, observing the reactions of everyone around. You smiled when someone smiled, and your grin grew wider with each compliment. That’s when I started to suspect that the artist was you, all along.”

“I remember it now. I bumped into you as you were leaving,” he says, and you nod.

“What stood out to me were your sad eyes. That’s what I remember most. Well, besides your bruised knuckles.”

“And that’s how you connected the dots.”

“Yes, and your eye mole, too. Even though you tried to conceal it with makeup, it still showed.”

“Very perceptive,” he says with a grin.

“Thank you.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll expose your identity?” you ask, as his hand gently slides into yours, his fingers resting lightly on top of yours. A simple, innocent touch, yet it stirs something unknown in the pits of your stomach. 

“I trusted you when you said I’m not the one who matters to you.”

“Why would you trust me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I miss putting my faith in someone, even if they end up failing me. Isn’t that the most human trait of all?”

How could an assassin create such heartfelt paintings, overflowing with emotions too hard to explain with words, let alone colors? Perhaps because this isn’t the life he always wanted.

“Did you choose this?” you ask softly, your voice barely a whisper. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from the interrogation, or the near brush with death, or perhaps the relief that this chapter is finally closing for both of you. But something compels you to keep talking, to ask, to hold on to Hyunjin just a little longer.

“Being a killer, you mean?” His voice carries a tenderness that seems at odds with the weight of his words. He’s a walking contradiction, balancing two identities within himself—Hyunjin and Sam. One feels heavier on his bones than the other. 

“I grew up in this world,” he continues. “My parents run a large network of assassins—or vigilantes, depending on how you see it. Some people hire us, and sometimes we act on our own when we see injustice or corruption festering for too long. We conduct thorough background checks. We only kill those who truly deserve it. We always make sure of that.”

“An eye for an eye.”

He nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I always feel good in the midst of a case. One less evil in the world. But after, there’s just this emptiness. Now what? I always wonder. So I try to fill the void with painting.”

“Now what…” you repeat, your voice trembling as a lump forms in your throat. “Now what? What should I do now?” Tears well up and spill over suddenly, streaming down your face in an unstoppable torrent. “San is behind bars, but my mom isn’t coming back. So what now? What was all of this for if I can’t get her back?”

You find yourself burying your head in the crook of Hyunjin’s neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close as if he could contain your sadness, preventing it from seeping from your soul and reaching your mother, wherever she may be.

You haven’t allowed anyone to hold you like this in two years, denying yourself any comfort until you could bring your mother’s killer to justice. It was a promise you made to yourself after San drunkenly ran her over and fled the scene, leaving you alone to hug her cold body in that sterile hospital room.

“It drove me crazy,” you sob, your words broken and incoherent. “He bribed everyone—the doctors, the paramedics, the stores nearby. Everyone acted like my mom didn’t d-die because of h-him,” you hiccup, and Hyunjin only holds you tighter, closer, enough to stitch your wounds with time, only if he remains this close to you. If he wishes to, if you allow him to.

“But now he’s behind bars, and I still don’t have my mom. What do I do now that I can’t bury myself in revenge? Hyunjin, what should I do when I miss her so much and I can’t see her?”

Five hours later.

“The article is perfect, no corrections needed,” Chris says, removing his glasses and looking at you with approval. “Excellent work, Yn.” 

“Thank you,” you nod, feeling a mix of relief, but mostly exhaustion. “I stayed up all night working on it.” 

“Goid, it’s only 6 a.m. so we know that no other media outlet has touched this yet. Our article will be the one to shape public opinion. This is a big win for us. It’s a thorough investigation, and I’m confident you’ll get the recognition you deserve,” he writes something down onto his notebook before looking at you once more. “Take a few days off—you’ve earned it. I’ll reach out if anything urgent comes up.”

“Thank you, sir.” You bow slightly before turning to leave the suffocating office. Or maybe it’s your own mind that’s suffocating you. You don’t have time to dwell on the question before Chris speaks again. 

“Oh, Yn?” Chris calls out just as your hand touches the doorknob. “One last thing, did you ever figure out who was behind all those tapes?”

Your grip on the doorknob tightens imperceptibly. “No sir, no clue.” 

One month later. 

It’s a few minutes before the art gallery closes when you walk in. Hyunjin spots you before you see him, your distinctive walk etched in his memory as vividly as if it were only yesterday that he had seen it.

He approaches quietly, stopping behind you as you gaze at the newest addition to his collection.

“Is this us?” you ask, not turning around. Hyunjin’s eyes follow yours to the abstract painting of a couple waltzing in a ballroom, their hands intertwined just like yours were, four Saturdays ago.

“Yes,” he replies softly.

“It seems I left an everlasting impression on you,” you tease, he can hear the smile in your voice without seeing it. 

“You did. You looked beautiful.”

“So did you.”

“I’m glad you came,” he says sincerely. “I missed you.”

“But we only spent a day together,” you giggle quietly, and Hyunjin wishes he could capture your laugh and tuck it away in the veins of his heart.

“Didn’t that day feel like a year, though?” he muses, resting his chin gently on your shoulder. You lean back into him, closing the space between you.

“It did,” you admit before nervously clearing your throat. “Are you free right now? We could grab a drink, if you’d like?”

“Chamomile tea?” he chuckles, and your laughter vibrates through his being.

“No, something stronger this time.”

He hums, hesitating as he despises the words that would stumble out of his mouth. “I have some things to handle tonight. Urgent matters.”

“Ah,” your voice dips slightly, the disappointment clear in your tone. “Well, it’s okay. I’ll see you another time, then,” you say, finally turning to face him. 

He really missed you. 

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Okay.”

“Congratulations on your award, by the way,” he says, watching your expression soften, a delicate smile forming on your lips.

“You saw it?”

“I did. I read your piece, too. I’m sure your mom would be proud of you.”

Tears of gratitude well up in your eyes, and you squeeze Hyunjin’s hand tightly as you whisper, “Thank you. Really. Thank you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s words linger in your soul, echoing through your mind for the rest of your day, his voice the only sound that seems to fill the silence within you. That is until three loud knocks resonate through your apartment, just minutes before midnight. 

You open the door to find Hyunjin standing there, a fresh bruise marring his jaw, his knuckles freshly scraped and bloodied.

“Let me guess, you had nowhere else to go?” you joke, trying to regain your composure at the sight of him once more.

“No,” he replies, his tone earnest, “I wanted to come to you.”

Your smile falters at the sincerity in his voice. You can’t quite place what it is about Hyunjin that pulls you toward him, how amidst everything that’s happened in the past month, the most vivid memory is how he held you gently as you cried and cried.

“I forgot something,” he says, pulling a tube of cooling cream from his back pocket and offering it to you. “I meant to give this to you for your bruised wrists.”

He’s a month late, you both know your wrists have long since healed.

“I… yeah,” he sighs before your silence, turning to leave, a light blush tinting his cheeks. But before he can, you drop the tube and grab his hand, spinning him back around.

“I forgot something too,” you say quickly before pressing your lips against his.

You don’t fully understand what draws you to Hyunjin, but you know his lips taste as sweet as cherry chapstick, that his hand around your waist feels like water flowing gently over your skin, warm and encompassing. That his brown eyes remind you of sunlight dancing on autumn leaves, that no one has touched your soul as deeply as he has.

You know you wish to make him feel as human as he makes you.

THE BREAK UP BUSINESS — EP. 1

[ an advent calendar series ]

— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —

[ abstract ]: He breaks up relationships, professionally. Lee Minho is the man people call when they wanna end things with their (not so) better half but don’t have the guts to do it. But this Christmas time everything changes, when he receives an offer from his former best friend and college roommate who needs desperate help to break up with his fiancée—you. However, this complicates everything. After all, you’ve been the only person that’s ever made Minho believe that true love might actually exist. So, what happens when you take the delivered message about the break up not so well and Minho—feeling guilty—offers you a place to stay, all while pushing away the feelings he’s had for you for years?

[ general ]: minho + fem reader, childhood friends/enemies → lovers, non idol au, best friend’s ex, demisexual reader, angst + fluff + smut, sunshine x grumpy, she falls first but he falls harder

[ warning ]: break up, mention of infidelity

[ words ]: 2.6K

[ note ]: here’s the first part for my advent calendar series! I hope you guys enjoy. The huge excitement when I announced my story made me so happy (but also nervous ngl) so: enjoy! And let me know what you thought about the first episode by commenting, reblogging or sending an ask my way 🩵

[ !! ]: the beautiful dividers are from @saradika-graphics

Minho decides to not hit the snooze button yet another time, when the alarm starts ringing once more. What a start of the week. He desperately would have needed another hour of having his eyes closed but there’s no minute left for that.

Sitting upright on his king sized bed, he swings his feet to the ground and gets up. When he finally blinks a few times and takes in his surroundings, he notices the red leather purse that’s placed on his huge sofa in his studio apartment.

”You’re still here, Tanya?” he asks, hearing his own voice echo into the distance.

There she is, already freshly styled and in a new outfit, reaching for her bag, “What do you mean, Min?”

She looks confused. Like she usually does when Minho asks weird questions like this. They’ve been dating for some time, so why is he speaking as if he wants to get rid of her?

“I’ve got a work appointment in less than an hour. I should get going. I wasn’t aware you’d stay here for so long,” he tries to save his ass but only makes it worse.

The blonde woman scoffs, “So, what? Am I an inconvenience for you? Good morning to you too, Lee.”

She grabs her jacket, already on the way to the door.

“Shit—wait, that’s not what I meant. It came off weirdly, I’m sorry. You mean so much to me,” Minho replies, running after her, as he reaches for Tanya’s hand.

She raises one of her eyebrows. “How much?”

“Very much,” he instantly replies. Because that’s the truth. At least he thinks so. He enjoys spending time with that woman, so why make such a huge fuss about it? Isn’t that all that counts?

“So much that you still haven’t introduced me to any of your friends, huh?”

Ouch. Right. 

“I’ve explained it to you…” he says, sounding like a broken record to the woman whose hand he’s gripping onto right now.

“Yeah, Minho. And I’ve been patient,” Tanya starts again. “For way too long. I can’t do this situationship type of thing. You’re a great guy and I thought it was worth it to give it a try despite your commitment issues–“

“I don’t have–“

She sighs, “Are you lying to yourself now?”

“Sorry,” he says, his voice dropping quiet.

“That’s all you ever say, Minho. That you’re sorry. But your actions don’t show it. Last night was the last chance I gave you,” she explains to him.

He looks at her bewildered, not quite getting it. Now Minho is the confused one. “Last chance? I wasn’t even aware of that.”

Tanya chuckles, “That’s always what it’s like with you men. You didn’t see it coming.” She takes a deep breath. There’s no bad blood there, but she’s tired of it. “I’m not mad at you—maybe a bit, for wasting my time. Which is why I have to go. But I hope if you find the woman that’s worth fighting for so that you will man up and do so.”

“Tanya– wait!”

“Don’t. Have a nice day,” is what she says, her voice gentle, before Minho hears his front door close.

Fucking hell. What a start of the week. It’s only Monday. Minho pushes the sadness and all his feelings away, as he’s done for the past 26 years. Even though he just ended something that could have become so serious if he didn’t have those commitment issues. He’s gotta get himself together—there are a bunch of customers waiting for him, ready to get what they ordered.

So, that’s the irony, to explain a bit of context here. Minho basically has turned his weakness into his passion and career. Similar to Batman—but whereas the rich superhero saves the city, Minho basically destroys it. Okay. That’s a bit harsh. He only breaks hearts, professionally.

What does that mean?

Well, Minho works for a company that does the dirty jobs no one wants to do. They’re the ones you call when you—for whatever reason—aren’t able to end a relationship on your own. Minho will do it for you—visit your (still) significant other, deliver that message to them, offer a bit of empathy, and go to the next appointment.

He’s been doing this for a little over two years now, after he’s decided to start all over again and it’s going great. Minho is the most successful in his team, ending a couple of relationships per day. Seoul is a big city and there seem to be a lot of unhappy people that would rather have someone else send those awful news than do it themselves.

Jokes aside—there are situations in which it’s better for safety reasons to call a professional like Minho. The Break Up Business (they could have been a little more creative there) will also do the aftercare. A huge basket full of chocolate, awful romantic movies on DVDs (retro), tissues and whatever one asks for to get them through the next stage of their life.

It’s already noon and time for his lunch break, when Minho has saved a woman out of the claws of her possessive (now ex) boyfriend, called out a serial cheater and ended a relationship between two more couples that just didn’t know how to communicate.

When he’s done with his caesar salad and the iced americano, he receives a call from his boss.

“What is it?” he asks, listening to the man at the other side of the speaker.

“I’ve got another spontaneous job for you. I’ll send you the address, alright?”

That’s also how it’s gonna be sometimes. Usually, Minho meets the part of the relationship who wants to end things first, discussing everything with them. However, from time to time, there might be a job that one of his colleagues has already started and for schedule reasons he needs to finish it. It’s less work but also a bit more complicated to really get into a case this way. But he's gonna ace it anyway.

Minho takes a quick glimpse at the information and data his boss sent him, when he notices something. Weird. He’s heard of that street before. He remembers that his former best friend thought about moving there and even visited an apartment for sale.

Why is he remembering this?

Well, Minho has always compared himself to Hyunwoo ever since they became roommates in college. The slightly older one used to be way more charismatic, bringing home women after women, while still succeeding and being year’s best in school.

Minho has never had issues with that life—he’s kind of become this way nowadays too, having strangers sleeping in his bed over and over again—but a very certain detail makes his stomach do a little twist.

Chill the fuck out. It’s just the same street. This doesn’t mean that Hyunwoo is the customer.

Until he reads further.

Customer: Choi Hyunwoo

Fucking hell. The thing is—it wouldn’t be much of an issue if his former roommate didn’t start a relationship with a very certain someone. A person whose heart  Minho does not want to break. After all, they destroyed his own little feelings years ago, without even knowing.

You.

The only woman he’s ever loved, cherished, imagined a serious future with. Until she decided to go out with his roommate instead because Minho was too much of a coward to be straightforward and honest when he knew he had the chance.

Shit. First Tanya breaks up with him and now a person from season 3 of his life returns to season 5. This can’t be real. And it’s only Monday.

And when Minho reads further, all his assumptions turn out to be true.

Partner: Y/L/N Y/N

He can’t do this. He can’t deliver a message of heartbreak to you. But Minho also has never cancelled a job offer. This would look very bad and he knows his boss has high expectations especially when it comes to him.

Minho knew this was gonna come back and bite him in the ass one day.

When he reaches your apartment building, luckily the door downstairs is opened, so he can just crawl up the stairs and get ready for his misery. The irony yet again. You are the one who’s gonna have their life changed in less than a minute and Minho is projecting it onto himself. But it’s the first time it feels as if he’s actually breaking up with someone and not just delivering a message.

The door swings open and he notices your smile fade away the second you see him. Gosh. You look even prettier than two ago when he last saw you. You’ve got your hair and nails done all prettily, wearing one of those illegally tight skirts that would make him go crazy even back in college.

Minho and you have known each other for a long time, getting way back to middle school, which makes his emotional attachment to you worse. Especially since that man has commitment issues and this is a foreign terrain for him.

“W-What do you want?” you ask. No hello, no greetings. But he doesn’t blame you. After all, you ended things on not so good terms.

“I’m…” he begins, his words getting caught in his throat. Shit. This has never happened to him. He’s so utterly nervous. “Can I come in?”

“Why?” you ask, looking at him confused, “Hyunwoo is at work, he won’t be back until the evening hours.”

Yeah I know. I read his case file. He’s already got someone else to stay the night with that’s been going on for some months but I’m gonna spare you the details.

“It’s… not related to him,” Minho lies.

And then, suddenly, your whole demeanour shifts.

“Shit. Did something happen? Something with your mum?”

Fuck. The fact that you’re instantly getting worried about his family makes him feel like an even bigger asshole. Why the hell is he doing this to you?

But it’s his job. He’s got no choice.

“Can I come inside?” he asks, ignoring your questions.

“S-Sure.” You let him in and tell him to sit down on the couch in the huge living room. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“It’s fine, thanks,” he declines.

Your apartment is beautiful, although a little pretentious but he knows Hyunwoo’s taste a lot.

“So, what’s with mum?” you ask now, referring to his mother. But you’re close to her too—after all she’s best friends with your mum—since Minho and you have known each other for over ten years.

“Nothing. I’m here for something else,” he admits.

“W-What is it then? Minho, you’re starting to scare me…”

He throws his head back, showing off his adam’s apple and it does something unholy to you that you’re way too ashamed to admit.

“I’m here because of Hyunwoo,” he confesses.

“I told you he isn’t there,” you state, looking at him confused. God, can all women stop looking at him like this?

“I know. I’m delivering a message from him,” he starts again.

“What are you now? A pigeon? I don’t understand this,” you try to handle the situation with humour.

“I work for a company called The Break Up Business and people call us if t-they want to end their relationship. I’m here to tell you that Choi Hyunwoo doesn’t want to be with you anymore,” he runs over his own words, blurting them out as fast as he can. Usually, he’s much more charismatic with that.

“What? Are you kidding me? It’s not even April Fools day,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry.”

You scoff, “No, you’re not, Minho. You’ve actually never been sorry for anything in your life. I know you too well for this.”

Ouch. That hurt. Although you might be right.

He reaches for a package that’s placed beside him, “I can offer you a basket filled with–“

“Shove that up your ass, Lee.” You laugh in his face because what else are you supposed to do?  “Why the hell are you the one delivering that message? Why can’t Hyunwoo end things like an adult with me?”

You’re not gonna break my heart again. I’m over you. That’s why I started dating your roommate in the first place.

“Fucking shit, six months before the wedding. What a prick,” you sigh, speaking to yourself but you know that Minho is still listening. It’s probably part of his job. What a weird career path he’s chosen there. He might as well have ended up on a reality TV show instead.

“We offer–“ he starts but immediately gets interrupted.

“I don’t care, Minho. I’m not in a state to function right now, as you can see. I’m sure you’re familiar with these things, regarding you’re doing this professionally. I didn’t know you’d become so low.”

Ouch. That was personal. That was some hidden resentment that’s bubbling up like a volcano from within. But Minho is used to way worse reactions—objects being thrown his way, being yelled at until his ears hurt, having to call the police in a few cases.

“I understand that you’re angry. You’ve got every right to be,” is what he says—a typical customer service phrase that won’t get him in any legal trouble but serve the bare minimum of fake-empathy.

“Did he even give a reason?”

He realises now—that’s the first time you’re actually asking for details on the break up. So far, you’ve complained about Minho talking to you or Hyunwoo’s timing but not the situation itself.

“He did. He’s found someone else,” Minho states, telling you what he’s read in the case file.

“Cool. Cool. Cool. Yeah, no doubt. Kinda saw that coming, but I’ve always been blind I guess,“ you say, pushing your glasses a little higher on your nose.

“Again, I am really sorry. If you ever need help or someone to talk to–“

“That someone is definitely not you,” you spit back.

Minho takes a deep breath, pressing the palms of his hands together. “We have professionals. Here’s a list of phone numbers and mail addresses you can contact,” he says, handing you a piece of paper.

“Okay,” is all that makes it past your lips. “Can you please go now? I need to pack my shit and see where I’ll be staying the night.”

“Right,” he says, handing you another sheet, “we’ve booked a hotel room for you. You can stay there for the next night and then you’re asked to leave the apartment since it’s under Choi Hyunwoo’s name.”

Minho sounds like a robot.

He’s never thought he’d break your heart some day. But Minho is blatantly unaware of the fact this isn’t the first time this has happened. After all, you wouldn’t be in a position like this if he made the right decisions a few years ago.

“I’ll… I’ll see you again tomorrow, for another appointment regarding the moving out process,” your former childhood frenemy informs you.

“You’re gonna be there too? So your company does everything to ruin people’s lives?”

Nothing new for Minho and you. After all, he’s the one who was constantly picking fights and annoying you during middle and high school, then became friends with you in college just to walk out of your life again. You’re used to it by now.

“We will help you find a place to stay. You don’t have to take that offer. But we’re here,” he explains.

“Oh, I will. You’re the one who put me in this situation so you’re gonna find a solution for me.”

And perhaps there’s a slight chance that you want him to stay in your life for a day longer now that he’s back.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Minho announces, before he leaves the apartment.

When he’s out the door, he feels tears pricking on his lower lashline. Fuck. He should have just told his boss to give that case to someone else.

But on the bright side—he’s got you back. You’re single. He’s single.

What if–

Shit, slow down. You wouldn’t give him a chance anyway, right?

© leeknowsallyoursecrets 2024 — copying, stealing or translating my work is prohibited

Love you better- H.JS

So, LATAM Jisung did something to my heart and I had to write something for him 🫠 I was supposed to also post uno and chill part 2 today but I accidentally fell asleep during the afternoon and since it's already late, I won't be able to finish it. Good thing I have a long holiday and only come back to uni on Thursday so wait for a lot of updates during the following days (including an Easter special fic 🤭). Nari, if you see this, please don't freak out 😚

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: smut, bros code breaking

Alexa, play Friends With Your Ex by Landon Barker

It all started the night you left Chan.

Not in a dramatic, Hollywoodian explosion. No screaming, no shattered plates, just silence. A final, tired “okay”, and the soft click of a door that didn’t reopen.

You didn’t know where to go, so you walked. It didn’t take long for your phone to buzz.

Hannie: you okay?

That was all it took.

He met you at that 24 hour diner which served bad coffee and greasy bacon slices. Han slid the booth across from you like it wasn’t the middle of the night, like you hadn’t just broken up with his best friend.

He didn’t pry, didn’t ask you why it ended, or if you were okay. He just sat there, gave you his hoodie when you started shivering and let you cry into a plate of pancakes.

And since then, he kept showing up.

You’d text each other more. Stupid jokes bloomed into real conversations. He helped you move boxes out of Chan’s place without asking questions. He made you laugh when no one else could. He gave you rides home late at night because ‘it’s not safe for you to walk'. But he never pushed or crossed a line— he just was there for you, in case you needed it.

Until the night everything changed.

You were sitting in his car parked in some random parking lot. Raindrops tapped against the windows, music playing low. You were wearing his hoodie again and this time, your knees were pulled up in the seat, chin resting on top of them.

“I don’t get it”, you murmured, staring at the blur of city lights outside, “How he just… stopped loving me”

Chan had always been a good man. A kind man. But he was never there. Always at the studio, always putting your relationship last. You didn’t break up with him because you stopped loving him— you did it because he forgot how to love you back.

Han exhaled softly, glancing at you from the driver’s seat, “I don’t think he stopped loving you”, he said quietly, “I think… he just didn’t know how to love you the way you needed”.

That made your chest tighten. You turned toward him, realizing there’s something heavy in his gaze— something he’d been trying not to say for weeks.

“Han…”

He leaned in just a little. Not enough to kiss you, just enough for you to feel the heat.

“I shouldn’t want this”, he said quietly, eyes flicking to your mouth.

“Yeah… you shouldn’t”

“But I do”

You don’t remember who leaned in first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. But suddenly, your mouths met like you’ve been starving, like every night he held back, rushed to the surface all at once. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb gently brushing your cheek and suddenly you were kissing him hard.

Messy. Desperate. The car windows started to fog with your breath, your bodies twisting in the cramped front seat. Your legs slid over his lap and his hands grabbed your waist as he tried to stop himself— but he couldn't.

“He never touched you like this, did he?”, he murmured against your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“That’s so wrong”, you whispered, but you were already pulling his hoodie off.

“Then why does it feel this good? Why aren’t you stopping me, huh?”, he groaned, voice rough as his lips found your collarbone.

Because the truth was— you were not just kissing Han. You were kissing every stolen glance. Every accidental touch. Every night you wished someone saw you the way he always did.

It was messy, forbidden— everything you were not supposed to want.

But in that moment with Han’s hands under your shirt and his voice whispering your name like you owned him— you finally felt wanted again.

“You’re still not stopping me”, Han breathed, voice hoarse against your skin.

He was right, you weren’t. You should. But your fingers were already tangled in the hem of his shirt, already tugging it up, palms sliding over the warm lines of his stomach as you straddled him in the driver’s seat.

Your breath hitched when your hands traced over his inked skin— his tattoos, surprisingly familiar, mapped out across his muscles.

“God”, you whispered, brushing your fingertips over just under his ribs, “These always drove me crazy”.

Han let out a low groan, eyes closing as he leaned into your touch, “You’ve barely seen them” he said, voice rough.

“I saw enough”, you whispered, lips ghosting over his neck, “I just didn’t let myself want to. It had been three long weeks, you know”

His hands found your hips like instinct when you grinded down on his lap, head falling back against the headrest. “Fuck”, he groaned.

You kissed him again, your teeth clashing slightly. He moaned into your mouth like he didn’t care that this was sinful. Bros code? He barely remembered it existed.

His hands were everywhere— trailing up your thighs, gripping your hips, sliding under your shirt until he gripped your bare waist like he needed to hold on or he’d have lost himself completely.

“We can’t do this, Yn… Tell me to stop”, he said suddenly, breath shaking.

But your reply was a soft, “Don’t stop”, whispered into the curve of his neck. You didn’t want him to stop, not when he touched you like that.

You rolled your hips over his lap slowly and he let out the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard from him.

Han’s hands gripped you tighter, his jaw clenched. “Jesus”, he muttered, kissing down your jaw, “You’ve been in my head for weeks. Every time you looked at me like you needed me… I couldn’t think straight”

You whimpered as he slid his hand under your bra, gently, thumbs brushing over your nipples. He pulled your shirt up, just enough to kiss the curve of your chest, hot and desperate, leaving a purple stain there. Even though it was sloppy and frantic, it made you cry out his name.

“Hannie…”

That definitely did something to him. His eyes flicked up, then he pulled you back in for another kiss— this time deeper, filthier, full of tongue and need and everything he’d been holding back.

You could feel how hard he was beneath you, straining in his jeans, as you rocked down again, dragging a soft whine from his throat.

“You keep doing that and I’m not gonna last”, he growled.

“I don’t want you to last”, you whispered, “I just want you to”

He let out a harsh exhale, more like a curse, then leaned forward. “Backseat”, he muttered, eyes dark with lust, “Now”.

You crawled over, and he followed right behind, pulling the door shut with one hand and dragging your hips into his lap again. This time, it was faster, hungrier. He slid your panties down your thighs without fully undressing you, and the thrill of it made your pulse race.

His fingers slid between your legs, and he cursed under his breath. “Damn, you’re soaked”

You arched into his touch, head falling back. “This is so bad”, you pant, “So, so… ah… wrong”

“Then why…”, he murmured, kissing the corner of your lips as he sank two fingers inside you without any warnings, “Does it feel so fucking good?”

You gasped, grinding down against his hand, and he watched you unravel, like he was trying to memorize every twitch, every moan, every part of you.

He fucked you with his fingers slow at first, curling them just right, until your hips were jerking and your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Let me make you forget him”, he whispered.

And god, you did. You fell apart in his lap with his name on your lips, and when you came down, trembling and breathless, he already got his jeans undone, already guiding you on him with a look that said: ‘Please, just this once, let me have you’.

You took him teasingly slow. As you sank down on him, your fingers clutched the back of the seat, lips parted in shock at how good it felt— how right it felt even when it shouldn’t.

His hands held your hips, anchoring you as you started to move.

The car rocked, the windows fogged and the world outside disappeared.

All that was left was Han— his body, his voice, his mouth. The desperate gasps, and whispered curses.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart…. better than I ever imagined”, he groaned, head falling back.

That made you pause, “You… imagined this before?”

With eyes closed shut, he nodded, breath shaky, chest rising and falling fast. “Every time something went wrong”, he whispered, voice wrecked. “Every time he ignored your feelings cause he was at the studio. Every time you showed up glowing in a new dress and he barely looked at you before saying you looked pretty cause he had a deadline”

A choked sound escaped him— half groan, half confession— as he thrusted into you again. “Fuck… every time I thought, ‘I could be better for her. I could actually make her happy’ “.

Your eyes stung. From the overwhelming pleasure but also from him. From the way he was baring himself to you in a way no one else ever has.

You blinked, lashes heavy with tears, a lump forming in your throat. And then you kissed him. Hard. Deep. With everything— every buried feeling, every confused moment over the past few weeks.

You kissed him like he was the only thing that made sense in the middle of the wreckage you’d been walking through. And he kissed you back like he’d been waiting years. Like this was a secret he was finally allowed to speak.

His thrusts started to lose rhythm, stuttering, desperate, like he was chasing the edge just as hard as you were. The windows were completely fogged now, your skins slick with sweat, your hands gripping his shoulders like they’re the only solid thing left in the world.

You were so close it hurt, each grind sending heat spiraling low in your belly, pressure curling tight until you gasped, eyes wide and unfocused.

“Fuck, I’m…” you started, but he cut you off.

“I know, me too, just come with me”

And when he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, all while looking at you like you were the whole sky, that was what tipped you over. Your body tensed, then unraveled all at once— hot and shuddering, pleasure crashing over you in waves so strong you almost forgot to breathe.

He followed with a low moan of your name, hands gripping your hips as he came, pulling you down hard against him one last time.

Everything went silent, save for the sound of your panting breaths and the soft hum of the car engine.

You were still wrapped around him when he murmured, “I meant it, you know”

You blinked, heart still racing, “What?”

“All of it”, he said, voice low. “I know it is still soon, but I could be better for you. I want to be. I want to make you happy”

Your chest tightened. No one had ever said something like that after sex. Not to you, not like that.

You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his, and whispered, “You already are”

Han smiled, lazily and crooked, and then he added, “Also… you definitely ruined my backseat forever”

You laughed, breathless and full of something bright and warm and real. “Worth it, tho” you say.

“Guess we’ll just have to use the front seat next time”, he grinned.

You laughed harder this time, still tangled together, still flushed and bare and glowing. And then, you realized:

You might be completely fucked up

But maybe… you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

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Taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep , @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa , @my-neurodivergent-world

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insecurity pt. I // lf texts

Title: Insecurity pt I Genre: fake texts, friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort Pairing: idol/baker bsf!Felix x fem!reader

Summary: You and your best friend Felix love to bake together, and lately he has been ON FIRE with the pastries. Unfortunately, being secretly in love with Felix, you start to worry that his habit (love language) of sharing his treats with you is causing you to gain too much weight.

notes: thank you @ramadiiiisme for all the help and inspiration (and the request <3 )

I was gonna apologize for uploading this so fast but I'm not gonna.

Warnings: themes of concern over weight gain, light language, slight Seungmin slander (he can't cook okay) Felix calling you honey platonically because he's adorable.

SS: 13

(ignore the time stamps)

next part >

tag list : @amarecerasus @kumariiai @diekleinesuesse @captainchrisstan @0omillo0 @katexstay @younggwingss @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @feetoffthemalfoy @seungminsapuppy

comment a request to be tagged!

Trophy Husband - Chapter 1

Hyunjin x Reader (fem.) Genre: Arranged Marriage au!, Marriage of Convenience-ish, Romance, Angst, Frenemies-to-Lovers, NSFW (eventual) mdni Warnings: tw-panic attack, mentions of cheating, cursing, crude language, somewhat proofread WC: 6.1k A/N: did anyone catch the easter egg for this series in last chapter of “The Youngest Son”👀. ALSO, had to create a surname for y/n for plot sake. Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Two individuals with polar opposite lifestyles are thrown into an arranged marriage for the benefit of both their families, or so they claim. One is a frivolous playboy, living off familial wealth, while the other is an overly controlling workaholic. Navigating their marriage with a business-like approach, their relationship is marked by a whirlwind of bickering, banter, and societal pressures. Amid misunderstandings, they uncover layers of unexpected qualities, eventually discovering a sweet love neither saw coming.

CHAPTER 1 ───────────────────

It was common, very common amongst the elites to let their children mingle, to marry them into wealthier families, alliances through marriage that brought benefit for both parties. 

Yet, even after living amongst them, growing up with such a common custom. One that automatically came to those in the upper tax bracket, like a built-in lifeline, Y/N could not grasp exactly what was happening to her.

No.

She understood. But why was it happening to her?

Y/N was the only child of wealthy parents who had poured their souls into building their business, yet as their only child, she felt an immense disdain for their corporate empire and everything that came with it. From a young age, she was told it all belonged to her. Groomed to inherit it. The deals, the ties, the connections.

The headaches, the stress, the immense boredom of it all.

From a young age she was told that it was her duty, to ensure it continued to thrive, continued to grow bigger than it was. A duty to fulfill her father’s ambitious vision. To nurture an inner ambition that her parents didn’t realize, is not a quality one inherits.   

Y/N harbored no such ambitions. 

Her heart beat to the rhythm of creativity, her fingers itching to paint, to sculpt. Drawn to the array of colors that lured her with their vibrancy. Passions she had managed to hide away from her parents’ scrutinizing eyes. 

Until she couldn’t.

The discovery of a double life that led to countless fights, trashed materials the young girl filtered out the dumpster. Cold shoulders, arguments ending with tears and leaving home quite often. By the time it reached that turning point where her father realized he could no longer control her rebellious streak, he sat her down.

A discussion that ultimately resulted in what one would only describe as a compromise.

“You get what you want now, and one day you pay me back.”

The then teenager keenly agreed, her aspirations of going to art school, and starting her own gallery with her father’s aid, took the front seat. 

She chased after those colorful streaks.

Over time, busy with the whirlwind of establishing her own artistic success, her freedom, she almost managed to forget the bargain she thought she struck with her serpent-like father.

Almost managed to.

Of course it came back to bite her in the ass.

Y/N stared at her father incredulously, hoping his next words would reverse the bombshell he’d just dropped. 

   “Tell me you’re joking—no, you have to be joking.” Her voice wavered with disbelief as she looked back at his stern expression.

   “Hwang Hyunjin!? HGroup’s second son, Hwang Hyunjin? Dad, have you gone crazy?!” Incoherent stutters left her lips in disbelief. 

   “No, this must be a prank.” Her head darted around the room, eyes raking the emptiness in hopes that someone would pop out with a camera.

Someone would laugh in her face saying “haha, got you!”

But no one does, and she only stood under the intent gaze of her father.

The older man’s stern expression intensified, and he sucked in his teeth sharply before pointing at her, his finger wagging as he spoke.

   “That’s no way to talk to your father.” He admonished firmly. “You heard me right. HGroup has sent a proposal for your hand, and I’ve accepted.”

She blinked rapidly, clearly caught off guard by the news delivered so quick, one after another. A repeat of the crazy talk he had ambushed her with the moment she had arrived.

   “What is this, the nineteenth century?” She retorted incredulously.

   “Why in the world would you accept without consulting me? I’m never marrying that-that dimwit!” She huffed, watching as her father’s expression hardened, unyielding. 

   “I’m your father, I know what’s right for you. Marrying into that family is not only going to be good for you, but good for us as well. Don’t you understand? They view you in such a positive light, itching to make such an accomplished woman a part of their family. They jumped at the opportunity.”

She let out an unamused laugh, but it quickly stilled into clenched teeth, a sign of her frustration and anger simmering beneath the surface. Coming to one conclusion.

   “Dad…Then just say you’re selling me off.” 

Her father furrowed his brows deeply, pointing at her once more, but this time he was at a loss for words. He couldn’t immediately retort to her objections, maybe because he was stunned by the absurdity of them.

Or maybe deep down he knew there was some truth to what she had said. 

She could see it in his eyes.

   “There’s no way you’re doing this for me. It’s obvious why you’re doing this. Your company needs HGroup to back it up. And you’re just using me to get to them—maybe even taking it out on me because I didn’t want to inherit your business.” She asserted firmly, arms crossing over her chest, her eyes brimming with frustrated tears.

A speck of silence settled between them, before the old man’s expression softened, hoping that perhaps a cooler tone would allow his steadfast daughter to at least hear him out.

   “I need someone to take over once I retire. You think I could leave it in the hands of that good-for-nothing cousin of yours?” Her father countered, finally revealing his true intentions, his voice was tinged with exasperation.

   “—And you thought Hwang Hyunjin is a better choice? Dad! Don’t you know what kind of person he is? He’s the farthest from responsible!” She refuted, her voice only growing louder, more defensive.

Once again, her father found himself unable to respond to her pointed objections. Instead, he reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. An action that made her flinch because she knew what he was trying to do.

   “Right, I know he isn’t the best choice. But with his family’s backing, and perhaps a push from you, our business can flourish for many more years.” He reasoned, his tone softening even more so, as he tried to persuade her.

As if he was on her side.

Except Y/N wasn’t five anymore, no longer the little girl who skipped around her father. She brushed his hand off her shoulder, taking a step back.

   “Then listen closely. There is no way I’m going to do this.” She declared firmly, her voice wavering slightly with emotion.

Turning on her heels, she moved towards the door, hastily wiping away the tears that had slipped down her cheeks.

   “If you want to keep that art gallery of yours standing, you’ll do exactly as I say. Remember, you owe me this.”

Her father’s words were cold, the softness in it long gone. The daughter halted in her tracks immediately. Her figure tensed with surprise and disbelief as she slowly turned back towards him, wide eyes staring in shock at the weight of what he had just uttered. 

How could he hold this against her? 

She must have been foolish indeed.

Similarly in another part of the city, the Hwang Hyunjin in question, stared at his father in the same contempt and shock.

   “Father!” His shout had resonated, rising abruptly from his chair and staring down at his father behind the desk in disbelief. 

   “Marriage? Are you kidding me?”

The father, who would have ignored him if it was up to him, handed his assistant some files as he spoke, not even sparing Hyunjin a glance.

   “No one asked your opinion. We’ve agreed to marry you into the Yeom family.” His father replied coolly, unaffected as he leaned back in his chair.

   “That makes absolutely no sense. Do I not get a say?” He demanded, looking towards his father’s assistant for support, but the older man remained silent, avoiding eye contact.

   “You’re serious? This isn’t some kind of drama. Why are you jumping to such extreme measures—” His frustration peaked, but before he could continue, his father’s hand slammed loudly against the desk with a resounding slap. 

The sudden noise stunned Hyunjin into silence, and he took a step back, his angry expression replaced by wide-eyed stunnedness.

   “You think this is just about you getting arrested? You good-for-nothing slob. You’re damaging both your and HGroup’s image, and I’ve been letting you get away with it for far too long.”

Hyunjin narrowed his brows, feeling the weight of his father’s words bearing down on him. He couldn’t find a way to argue against the truth in what the man was saying. 

   “I’ve had enough of it. This time you’ve gotten your brother involved and I’m not going to let you ruin his reputation as well.” His father continued, his tone firm and resolute.

Hyunjin’s eyes shot up in surprise and stiffened at the mention of his brother, instinctively falling silent as he processed the gravity of his father’s statement. Sure, there was a small hiccup, sure he had been taken to the police station, his brother rushing after to prevent him from being thrown behind bars, but it was not all Hyunjin’s doing.

But would his father even understand if he told him it really wasn’t his fault this time? That his brother only got involved because he just happened to be there? That he didn’t start that drunken brawl.

Hyunjin chose to stay silent, listening to his father berate him, eyes cast downward.

   “There will finally be something good attached to your name and you’re refusing? Hah!” His father’s laughter dripped with sarcasm, and he pointed at his son, glaring.

   “Listen closely. You are getting married to that Y/N Yeom, and staying out of trouble. Got it?”

Hyunjin stayed silent, his angry gaze silently screaming at his father, who refused to give in this last time.

   “If you don’t, I’m cutting off your expenses. If you want to be a homeless slob, be my guest.” ─────────────────────── The gallery director’s arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face twisted in displeasure as she observed her to-be husband from a distance. He sat with legs crossed, nonchalantly sipping iced coffee, sporting black sunglasses on his nose. His relaxed figure, leaned back against his chair as he tapped on the cafe table, glancing around, as if he’s come sightseeing.

She sighed deeply, steeling herself to approach him. Determined steps finally approaching him. Clearing her throat to get his attention, she leaned forward, closing the gap between them at the table. The dark-haired man peered over his glasses, observing Y/N as she stood tall, almost towering over his seated figure.

Hyunjin slowly took off the sunglasses, hooking them onto his shirt, his expression studying her frigid figure once more, easily guessing she wasn’t too thrilled to see him.

   “You.” Her tone was laced with bitterness.

   “Are you aware that because of you my human rights are being violated? Why in the world did you agree to marry me? We barely know each other?”

Hyunjin blinked, a little taken back by her sudden bombardment of questions before his brows relaxed if he’d come to a conclusion. She was definitely not thrilled to see him.

Y/N’s emotionless tone managed to catch his attention. Her gaze, her words, were oozing of some superiority complex, clearly looking down at him, like everyone else around him does.

He eyed his future wife up and down once more before clearing his throat and setting down his glass.

   “Why? Anyone would be ready to marry me. Don’t I have the perfect face for the future son-in-law of Yeom Co.?” He leaned in, cupping his face in his hands, parading his looks with a pretty smile.

Y/N rolled her eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh. The sound of her chair being pulled back, harsh as she settled into it and sat across him.

   “You think I want to marry you? Don’t be fooled, you’re nothing but your pretty face.” She stated, arms crossing over her chest.

Hyunjin’s smile faltered at her harsh but truthful words. He leaned back, squinting at her upset expression before finally letting out an exasperated sigh. His head dropped for a second before looking at her.

   “Look, we’re both in the same boat. It’s tiring trying to argue about it. We just have to get along, that’s all.” He answered nonchalantly, as if his father hadn’t threatened him only two days ago.

The headache Y/N was getting from conversing with him was inexplicable. Running a frustrated hand through her hair, she took a deep breath.

   “I don’t want to be in the same boat as you. From which angle do the two of us look like a good match?” There was a bitterness dripping from each word she spoke.

His lips twitched, fingers tapped on the table, suddenly sitting up and leaning closer. Offended slightly.

   “And exactly what makes you a catch? What makes you so high and mighty?” He asked, tired of the insults she kept throwing at him.

Her mouth fell agape for a brief second, stunned by his directness and the shift in tone. The stupid expression on his face was no longer apparent, instead replaced by a cold gaze she was surprised to see.

   “Hey, Hwang Hyunjin, you idiot. My father’s ready to sacrifice nine years of my hard work just for you.” Y/N exclaimed, incredulous.

He glared at her, biting the inside of his cheek.

It wasn’t like Hyunjin himself had gone to her father to ask to marry her. This woman he only encountered in social settings, getting glimpses of her face here and there. The only similarity shared between them was the school they attended together. But even then, they didn’t even exchange a glance, let alone a conversation.

  “You’re not the only one being threatened.” Hyunjin began.

Then a thought zoomed passed in his mind, a sudden question that he didn’t want to ask because he had an inkling he knew what her answer would be.

But still he asked. As if he was actually looking forward to being further insulted.

   “Would you have been happier if it was my brother sitting here instead?” He asked, studying her frustrated expression.

His gaze had narrowed into a slight frown as he asked. But she only rolled her eyes. Clearly disgusted by even that idea.

   “I dislike both of you. If I had a choice, I’d rather stay single forever. Besides, what did your father threaten to take away from you—no, what do you even have to protect?” Her blunt words stung, further aggravating the usually cheerful, usually patient man.

The dark-haired man sitting across fell silent, his expression unreadable.

   “Listen to me straight, speak to my father. Tell him you’re against this marriage—”

   “Nope.” His abrupt refusal cut her off.

   “I’m gonna marry you. I’m gonna make sure you become my wife.” 

His gaze was no longer playful, instead replaced with an anger and darkness she had never seen in them.

   “H-hyunjin…” Her voice trailed off, realizing his ego was preventing him from listening to her, though her provoking hadn’t helped either.

But something about this wasn’t right.  

He sighed, noticing her expression. Amused that Y/N could even make such a face. 

Hyujin chuckled. His fingers covering his mouth to stifle his laugh. Amusement in her shocked expression, in the big eyes she stared back at him with, unsure of exactly what was so funny in their situation. 

   “I’m joking. I’m really not a fan of all this as well.” He chuckled, observing her blink in confusion. 

   “But I really have no say either. You’re giving me too much credit for even thinking your father would hear me out.”

Neither of their opinions seemed to matter, an arrangement so ridiculous she kept having to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming such a horrible dream.

But why wasn’t her opinion valued?

Why was she suddenly being pushed to reform the screw-up Hwang son?

She looked at him silently, her mind processing his words. Her eyes trailed over his smug expression, the tug of his lips that thinned into a pitiful smile. Perhaps pitying himself. Their situation.

Hwang Hyunjin, the black sheep of his family, a fact as clear as day. 

Whenever responsibilities came knocking at the door, he would find a way to slip out another exit. 

This had been the pattern ever since Y/N had known him, known of him. 

Their acquaintance, though distant, spanned quite a long time. They had grown up together, their small social circle ensuring frequent encounters that neither of them particularly cared for to remember. And though they had never been close, his reputation made sure everyone knew of him. 

Hwang Hyunjin was the embodiment of a pampered rich kid. While his older brother dutifully managed family affairs, Hyunjin indulged in a lavish lifestyle. Wore the trendiest clothes. The shiniest accessories. He vacationed in the most exotic places, had passion for flying planes, driving sports cars. Preferring excitement over corporate boardrooms, suffocating under the intent gazes of the corporation, the suits and the pale, dull walls.

His personality was clearly written on that beautiful face of his.

Carefree. Careless.

Meanwhile, Y/N, the daughter of ambitious, business-oriented parents, had fought hard to carve her own path away from their influence. Just when she believed she had finally gained independence, fate intervened, entangling her deeply in a complicated situation involving none other than this greatest playboy Hwang Hyunjin. 

   “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

   “Mmmm… I’m gonna have to end it.” He shrugged, as if it were no big deal.

She rolled her eyes, not entirely surprised by his response. That was Hwang Hyunjin for you. Tales of his flings and situation-ships managed to reach even her ears every now and then.

But a sudden thought gnawed at her. An imaginary scenario arising in her thoughts, one that made her stare at him with a sudden intensity.

   “And what if I had a boyfriend. One I truly loved?” She questioned with a raised brow.

Everyone knew there was no such guy. That the only thing Y/N Yeom truly loved was her gallery and her career.

Still, he nodded, as if considering the possibility. “I know you’re depressingly single, but since this is a what-if situation—” He began, while her expression darkened at his jab.

   “You can continue it behind closed doors, I won’t judge. You’re in love after all.” He grinned, pretty confident that it was an ideal answer, the right one she wanted to hear.

But instead, her expression fell, and she clenched her jaw in frustration.

It was clear where his morals lay, and she really didn’t want to continue sitting here, let alone be associated with him.

Except she could only recall her father’s words. No, his threat replayed in her mind once more. 

The only thing that kept her sane amid the suffocating environment, the success she thrived in, independent from her father’s empire, was being dangled in front of her. It made her blood boil, and seeing her “to-be husband” sitting in front of her, nonchalant about the whole ordeal, left a bitter taste in her mouth.

It angered her that her father thought this man was worthy of her. This man that had zero care for anyone but himself. This man that had zero value for marriage, let alone respect for his “to-be wife” even if they were practically strangers.

Y/N slammed both her palms against the table between them, an action that startled him.

      “Listen here. There’s one thing that’s not going to happen if we go through with this ridiculous ordeal. That is infidelity.”

He narrowed his brows, confusion etched on his face.

   “Surely in a perfect marriage, but everyone has their needs—”

   “Jerk Off.” She cut him off, stunning him with her response.

   “Watch porn if you’re that desperate! But If I ever catch you having some extra-marital affair, I swear to god, I will make your life a living hell.” There’s anger on her face, words laced with a sudden disgust that finally poured out. 

It was clear to the stunned man across, the notion of cheating was a touchy topic for her, but Hyunjin only narrowed his brows.

...Cheating? 

Would it even be cheating if they didn’t really love each other? 

But Hyunjin wasn’t really hung up on that. Instead, he wondered if she demanded such a thing because she looked down on him. That she thought he was a loose man who had no control over his play-boy instincts.

      “Why? Afraid I’ll show up in an article? ‘Hwang Hyunjin of HGroup, caught cheating on his wife, daughter of Yeom Co.!’” His voice carried a mocking edge, as though he were already reading the headline from a real newspaper. 

A laugh escaped his lips, tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. His jaw tightened at the sight of disgust in her eyes.

She could only take a deep breath, shaking her head. Y/N exhaled, pondering his words.

      “There’s that too... but that is where I draw the line.” She stated, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms again.

He let out an exasperated sigh once more, clear frustration on his face. They suddenly sat in a tense silence, furrowed gazes observing, watching each other. But neither budged. 

Neither wondered why they still sat there when it was clear as day that they would never get along.

Their thoughts differed, their values didn’t align. Like oil and water, things that could never mix together, no matter how hard you stir.

And finally after a long moment of consideration, Hyunjin gave in with a sighed “fine...”, though she’s not totally convinced.

      “Look.” She softened her tone, sitting straight in her seat, closing her eyes tightly for a brief second, unable to believe what she was about to say.

      “You don’t have to do anything. Live your life, spend money. Flash some pretty smiles every once in a while. Like the perfect trophy husband. How does that sound?”

Y/N wasn’t sure when the tables had turned, how she was the one now convincing this rake to agree to her terms of their impending marriage. One that was starting to become clear in their near future. Because deep down she knew she had no other choice.

Well she did have another choice, but this was the easiest path. One that would bring nothing but headaches, having to stare at this pretty but insufferable face. It was better than giving up on her career...right?

A part of her tried to to see where her father was coming from. He valued his hard-work, his company, his empire. She tired to understand, as a business woman. As the ambitious daughter who chased after her own dreams.

Perhaps her father was right. If she could mold Hwang Hyunjin into a husband that doesn’t get in her way, push him into a role that didn’t require too much of her attention, this all might work out. Even though the idea of even standing next to him still aggravated her.

The dark-haired man let out a deep breath, annoyingly sipping the last bits of his drink, the ice clinking loudly against the glass. While she only watched in an irritation that grew with each smug smile he shot her between his sips. Purposefully grating on her nerves.

      “Deal.” He finally voiced.

His acceptance didn’t offer Y/N any comfort though. Instead, it confirmed her worst fears, that this absurd marriage was truly going to happen after all. 

That Hwang Hyunjin, who she had avoided like some insect growing up, was going to be attached to her side, tied to her in the pretense of whatever sham of a marriage that was going to happen.

      “Will you marry me, Y/N?” He asked, his lips thinning into a grin.

He extended his hand for a shake, sealing a deal that had suddenly been made, and although she wanted to walk away from all of this, she sighed because she knew she was going to return his handshake. ─────────────────────── The wedding was as grand as one expected it to be. 

Why wouldn’t it be? 

It was celebrating the union of two of the wealthiest families in high society. 

There were whispers about the unexpected couple. Murmurs of curiosity and excitement.

The rumors that were spread, created a love story straight out of a movie. That the couple had crossed paths again at a high-profile auction. Instead of falling for the pretty paintings and glimmering trinkets, Hwang Hyunjin’s eyes were drawn to Y/N Yeom, who seemed radiant as she shared her insights about a particular piece, her passionate ramble captivated him. Enough to make him forget his playboy past and hand her his heart.

It was an ideal scenario. Curated specifically for this crowd of their elite society, eating up the narrative, the romantic drama. The gossip.

Yet, amidst all the grandeur, Y/N sat in the bridal room, staring at her good-for-nothing cousin who had just dropped yet another bombshell on her.

Anger and shock simmered beneath her calm facade as she crossed her arms over the silk of her wedding gown. She composed herself.

      “I already knew. I’m surprised you found out this late. Did you expect me to throw a tantrum and walk out of here?” Her lie was remarked coolly, though inwardly, that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

She actually had no idea what this idiot was talking about. But she couldn’t give him an opening. Allow him to attack her when she was vulnerable, allow him to get under her skin, something this parasite was really good at. Before he could utter more nonsense, she cut in, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

      “Get the hell out, I’m not done getting ready.” She muttered.

Of course he huffed and puffed. Probably the only thing he was good at, before he exited. As soon as his figure disappeared out the sliding doors, the sound of it clicking close, Y/N’s legs instantly faltered.

Alone at last, the weight of the situation and the sudden onslaught of information hit her like a tidal wave. Her cousin’s words repeated in her mind, wide eyes stared into the shine of the tiles. Her legs gave out, and she staggered against the makeup station, clutching onto its hard surface to steady herself. Makeup products scattered around her, but her eyes seemed to disassociate from the chaos in the room, welling up in tears.

The silence was deafening, yet a ringing sound in her ears was getting louder at each passing second. Normally, Y/N wouldn’t have reacted in such a way. Maybe she would have said something snarky, make the younger cousin cry from frustration even. Something she was good at. But it seemed like everything was finally crashing down on her, as if it dawned on her all over again that this was really happening.

There was a knock at the door that she barely registered amidst her struggle with her rising panic attack. Without waiting for a response, the door slid open, revealing her future husband’s lean figure as he let himself in.

      “What are you trying to pull now?” Hyunjin’s voice cut through her turmoil, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to reply. 

Her fists balled tightly. So hard, her nails dug into her palms, she tried to calm her trembling figure. But tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, her eyes catching his reflection in the mirror. His narrowed gaze morphed into shock immediately, concern etching his face.

Hyunjin was taken aback for a moment before swiftly spinning on his heels to peer out the large doors, checking if anyone was outside, then closing them with urgency.

      “Woah, what’s wrong with you?” His voice was laced with worry this time, as he hurriedly locked the tall doors.

Turning to face Y/N, he found her almost folding onto the ground, and rushed to her side.

The groom had come to check if his outfit clashed with his bride’s wedding gown. Despite their agreement to be civil through the wedding preparations, she still failed to show up at the dress shop to pick out their attire. Something about being too busy, of course. Though Hyunjin truly had no care for any of this either, he didn’t want to look tacky standing next to her. 

In their ideal scenario, of the Y/N who met Hyunjin at the auction, she might have complimented him on his striking appearance in his black tuxedo, and he might have looked at her with love-filled eyes. 

But that couple did not exist. Just part of a curated story.

Nothing about this was ideal.

Hyunjin did not expect to find her in such distress. Yet he almost froze as he looked down at her trembling form, almost gasping for air.

He had been called a lot of things, but he wasn’t heartless. He could not ignore her. Although he wasn’t sure what to do either. He crouched down, awkwardly extending his hands to graze her back, gently patting it as his voice dropped to a stern whisper. Soft pats that slowly fell into a rhythm.

      “Breathe.” He coached her.

Her fingers tugged at his free hand almost desperately, trying to follow his instructions. Trying to soothe that burning feeling that seemed to ignite her fully.

      “Deep breaths. Slowly.” He continued, squeezing her hand softly, brows knitting with a worry he didn’t think he’d have.

But as his eyes trailed over her crouched figure he felt a sting. 

The silence between them was heavy as she fought to regain control. Her nails dug into his skin, and he found himself breathing deeply, loudly, hoping she would mimic his steady breaths.

      “Yes, keep breathing.” He urged softly, exhaling slowly, trying to match his breaths to hers.

And after what felt like an eternity, Y/N began to breathe steadily, the burning sensation in her chest eased, leaving a dry, scratchy feeling in her throat.

She glanced sideways and saw Hyunjin still beside her, his face etched with concern as he took in her disheveled state. An expression she didn’t think he could make.

      “Did you know?” She finally croaked, tears smudging her makeup further.

      “About?” Hyunjin’s confusion was evident.

She closed her eyes briefly, composing herself. 

      “It was my father who proposed this marriage. Yours accepted because I would fit well into your family. I could keep you in check, the ideal daughter-in-law for his screw-up of a son.”

Hyunjin blinked, his expression softening despite her sharp words. He had assumed she had known all along about their families’ arrangement. One which her father had proposed with sweet talk and buttery words.

But even she was left in the dark.

Probably because Y/N was capable of actually having the courage to back out of all of this if she truly wanted.

His silence confirmed her suspicions, and she let out a bitter laugh, almost pitiful for herself, realizing the full extent of her father’s schemes.

      “He planned for this since he made that deal with me all those years ago…My father did sell me off after all.” There was a mix of hurt and bitterness in her voice that she had tried to bury, that came out pouring with her tears.

Hyunjin sighed aloud before he slowly stood, gently guiding her to sit properly in front of the makeup station, his touch lingering on her arms as she staggered into the seat.

He wasn’t sure what he could say to make her feel better. What he could do to make all this less shittier than it was. 

Hyunjin had already weighed the outcomes of marrying Y/N. And although it sucked that he didn’t have the option to choose his own partner, he truly did not see how this marriage would affect him negatively. 

It seemed only she had gotten the short end of the stick. And it tinged at his heart, making him feel guilty for a decision he did not make.

Hyunjin was not heartless.

      “We can go out there and ruin everything right now if you want. I’ll create a scene, and truly live up to my screw-up reputation.” He offered with a half-smile, brushing a tear-stained strand of hair from her face, a move that came almost naturally.

      “Or, we can get married and then figure out a way to screw all of them over.” He suggested seriously, meeting her gaze with a determination she hadn’t seen before. 

      “Your choice.”

Y/N looked at the man she had branded an asshole since they first met, the man who would soon be her husband if she agreed. The man who looked at her with a new intensity. Steadfast... worried.

At that moment, she realized. 

She had really been stuck on the same boat with Hwang Hyunjin, ever since she made that deal with her father nine years ago.

Everything felt like a blur. Y/N wasn’t sure what had happened or how she managed to compose herself as she walked down the aisle.

Was she even smiling? Did she appear to be the shy but happy bride everyone had created an image of?

The bouquet felt heavy, the dress even heavier. She felt like she was trudging. She felt herself focus on her steps. Right, left, right...

Suddenly, Y/N found herself standing before Hyunjin, his eyes locked onto hers.

The officiant had to call her name a second time, pulling her back to the question he had asked. One she hadn’t heard through the chaos in her mind. Though she hadn’t heard anything he had said at all since she stood here.

The silence in the hall and the intensity of Hyunjin’s gaze snapped her out of her thoughts. He squeezed her fingers in his grip.

Now was the moment. It was clearly written in his eyes.

She swallowed.

      “I do.”

Suddenly, they were married.

The cool touch of the wedding band felt foreign.

Surreal.

She already felt like she was dreaming. Everything felt so unreal. So when Hyunjin’s lips pressed onto her, she froze. A kiss that had truly caught her off guard.

It was something they had briefly touched on during the endless preparation meetings. Ones Y/N managed to show up to but hadn't paid any particular attention, allowing Hyunjin to take the reigns, which he reluctantly did. Of course, since he didn't have anything better to do after all.

Still, she was surprised. Amidst the whirlwind of all her emotions, she had forgotten entirely about the kiss newlyweds typically share, though she expected only a peck. Perhaps just a light graze even. A brief press of their lips for the cameras to snap. 

But Hwang Hyunjin had a reputation to uphold.

Hwang Hyunjin had to show everyone he was truly in love. With the girl he supposedly fell head over heels for at that high-end auction.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, fingers latching tightly onto her hips, pulling her close to engulf her lips with his. 

A kiss that made her gasp into his mouth. Eyes growing big with surprise at his sudden action.

She could feel his smirk against her mouth, his breath warm and teasing.

A new emotion bubbled within her. One that made her furrow her brows. Hyunjin’s daring act pushed away the anxious thoughts that still had seemed to cloud her mind. Instead, it was replaced with a sudden competitiveness.

Refusing to let him taunt her like that, Y/N responded to his kiss, fingers gripping at the smooth fabric of his blazer to pull him closer, to kiss him deeper, feeling him grow stiff. A surprising action he did not expect her to return with more intensity.

Hyunjin had perhaps met his match.

The audience erupted into applause.

The groom stared at his bride, stunned eyes taking in her content expression as she pulled away, a hint of mischief in her gaze.

      “Smile.” She muttered, her lips thinning into a smile themselves, turning to face the crowd with a wide grin.

Hyunjin inhaled sharply, mirroring her expression, playing his part. Waving to their guests who cheered the newlyweds on. Yet he couldn’t help but glance at Y/N. His bride who was full on laughing now, at the camera flashes, at their families, the wide smile on her face radiating as they started making their way down the altar as a couple.

As if minutes ago she wasn’t lost in her thoughts.

As if her hands weren’t trembling in his.

Hyunjin’s chest tightened. An unknown feeling that pricked him. A little irritated that she could so easily mask her inner turmoil with show-smiles.

A little upset that she had to make those expressions, her eyes twinkling, her smile bright.

A little of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

The new bride and groom seemed to radiate under the spotlight.

Waving, smiling, pretending.

Suddenly they were married. And that unknown feeling persisted. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

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