hwangjoanna

[hwangjoanna]

So fucking good!

Angel’s SKZ Birthday Bash 🎂

Dont Let Me Love You

Bestfriend! Hyunjin x Reader

Tags: Angst, best friends to lovers, unrequited love, stubbornness, smut, feelings realization, slow burn, drunken confession, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, lots of kissing, sexual tension.

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: You were never supposed to fall for him. Not your best friend, the boy who swore he didn’t believe in love anymore. But he touched you like he forgot, looked at you like he remembered, and held you like he wished he could stay. You told yourself it was nothing. That you’d imagined it. Until one night, the truth slipped past your lips, thick with wine and want. And suddenly, he wasn’t pretending anymore. He begged you not to love him. You did it anyway. Now, there’s no going back.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

🎊: Happy Birthday to an amazing writer @angel-writes-skz-here , I hope you have a good one 🤍

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You couldn’t name the exact moment it started.

Maybe it was the first time he pulled you into his hoodie on a rainy night, both of you soaked and breathless, laughing like fools under the yellow haze of a streetlight. Or maybe it was the way he always looked for you in a crowded room with that quiet glance, like the world only made sense if you were in it.

You’d been friends for years. That kind of closeness that lived in the small things — sharing earbuds in public, finishing each other’s snacks without asking, sleeping back-to-back during long movie marathons. No boundaries. No questions. It was never weird. Never talked about.

You told people you were best friends. They never believed you.

“Are you sure you’re not dating?”

“You two act like an old married couple.”

You’d laugh it off. So would he. Because it wasn’t like that. Not really.

Except, it kind of was. Wasn’t it?

You never flirted — not outright. But he’d rest his head in your lap when he was tired. You’d trace shapes into the fabric of his sleeve when you were bored. He’d call you at 2 a.m. just to ask what you thought happened to the dinosaurs. You’d pick up every time.

You didn’t think anything of it. Until one night, you did.

You were both lying on his floor, backs against the carpet, the ceiling spinning just a little from too much soda and too much sugar. He was telling you about his latest sketch — how he couldn’t get the shading right on this one figure, how the shoulders kept coming out wrong.

“I should just scrap the whole thing,” he murmured, one hand behind his head, the other gesturing vaguely. “Start over.”

You looked over at him. His hair was sticking out at different angles from him running his fingers through it repeatedly. His voice was low, softer than usual. You noticed the curve of his mouth when he was lost in thought.

And for some reason, your chest ached.

It came fast, like a breath you weren’t ready to take. Like something you’d been holding back for a long time without realizing.

You didn’t say anything. Just turned your head away and stared at the ceiling again, willing the feeling to pass. It didn’t.

That was the moment.

That was when everything shifted — quietly, almost cruelly. No fireworks. No drama. Just a slow, unbearable awareness that you wanted more than he was willing to give. That you’d fallen in love with the one person who would never love you back.

Because Hyunjin didn’t believe in love. Not anymore.

“Love’s a mess,” he’d told you once. “It makes people selfish. Desperate. I don’t want that again.”

You’d nodded. Agreed. Back then, it was easy. Back then, you believed him.

But now? Now you were lying awake at night, wondering if the way he held your wrist a little too long meant anything. If the way he leaned his head on your shoulder when he was tired was just a habit, or something more. If you were imagining it all.

Because the truth was, he still looked at you like you were his favorite person in the world. He just didn’t look at you like someone he could fall in love with.

And that hurt more than anything.

You told yourself it was still the same. That the late-night phone calls didn’t mean more. That the way he let his head fall against your shoulder when he was tired was just muscle memory. That the things he said, “No one gets me like you do”, “You’re the only person I can be like this with”, weren’t confessions. Just friendship.

You lied to yourself a lot these days. Because Hyunjin was still Hyunjin. Thoughtless in the way he touched, soft in the way he lingered. He didn’t think twice before pulling you into a hug that lasted too long. Didn’t hesitate to rest his chin on your shoulder while brushing his teeth beside you in the mirror. You were just his person. The one who knew his favorite ramen flavor, the only one he let read his notebooks when he got too deep in his head. The one he curled around like a cat on cold mornings, blanket tangled between your legs.

It was never meant to be anything else.

Except now, every time his fingers brushed your skin, it felt like a match struck against your nerves.

You’d flinch — not outwardly, but inside, something always jumped. And he never noticed. Never looked twice.

You got good at pretending. That was your new talent. Smiling through the heat that bloomed in your chest. Holding your breath when he leaned in too close. Laughing like you weren’t falling in love with every little thing he didn’t realize he was doing.

Like now.

You were in the passenger seat of his car, driving home from some late-night errand getting snacks and candles and that moisturizer he liked but could never find. The sky outside was ink-black, the city glowing in fragments through the windshield. Music played low, something dreamy, ambient. A D4VD song you didn’t know the name of.

He was humming under his breath, his voice soft, almost boyish in the quiet.

You had your legs crossed loosely, skirt riding a little high on your thighs, but you didn’t think much of it. Not until Hyunjin’s hand left the gear shift, moved lazily to rest on your leg — light, like it always was. Familiar. Careless.

Except this time, it was your bare thigh.

Warm skin against warm skin. His fingertips just resting there, unconscious and unbothered. A touch he’d done a hundred times before.

But never like this.

You froze.

Not visibly. You kept your face turned toward the window, your mouth pulling into a soft smile at something he said, something you didn’t even hear.

The movement of the car made it worse. Every bump in the road sent a subtle shift through your body, the light drag of his hand against your skin, knuckles grazing higher, then settling again. Not intentionally. He wasn’t even aware.

But it lit something low in your stomach. That terrible, quiet ache.

You stared out the window like it was the most fascinating view in the world. Said nothing. Didn’t breathe too deeply.

Because the moment you acknowledged it, you knew the spell would break. Or worse — you’d say something you couldn’t take back.

And Hyunjin? He just kept driving, humming softly. Like his touch didn’t burn you alive.

He didn’t move his hand from your thigh until his phone buzzed in the console.

He shifted just enough to check it, eyes flicking down, the glow of the screen lighting up his face in the dark. His hand left your skin. You exhaled silently.

“Jisung’s throwing a party tomorrow night,” he said, like nothing strange had happened. “Wants us to come.”

You blinked, still trying to breathe like a normal person. “Yeah,” you said quickly. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

But it stayed with you long after you went home. Long after you’d changed into pajamas and buried yourself beneath your sheets and stared up at the ceiling, your skin still tingling where his hand had been. You tried not to read into it. Failed spectacularly.

Because no matter how many times you told yourself it was meaningless — just Hyunjin being Hyunjin — it never felt that way to you.

—

The next night, you dressed slowly.

You didn’t mean to try so hard. You didn’t. But your hands lingered over the soft hem of your dress, your eyes scanning your reflection for anything he might notice. Anything that might make him look twice. Foolish, you told yourself. You knew better. But the hope was a quiet thing, and it didn’t ask permission to bloom.

Hyunjin picked you up just past nine. Same lazy smile. “You look nice,” he said, like it was routine.

You tried not to die inside.

Jisung’s place was already full when you arrived, warm lights, loud music, the living room packed with bodies and laughter. Familiar faces from old parties, new people you didn’t care to know. You stuck close to Hyunjin at first, the way you always did. It wasn’t even a choice anymore, he was your orbit.

There were games going on. Stupid things. Seven minutes in heaven, truth or dare, couples kissing in the middle of dares they barely flinched at. It was messy and loud and full of things you tried not to want.

Hyunjin settled next to you on the couch, thigh pressed to yours. His arm draped along the back, fingers grazing your shoulder every now and then. He smelled like cedarwood and clean laundry. You tried not to lean in.

“Couples are so annoying,” Jisung said from across the room, groaning theatrically as two people fawned all over each other. “Get a room, Jesus.”

Hyunjin snorted beside you. “Seriously. They look insane.”

The words stabbed a little harder than they should’ve.

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Your chest felt tight. Maybe it was the noise, or the room, or just him — sitting there beside you like he wasn’t everything you wanted. Like he hadn’t just reminded you, again, that you’d never be it for him.

Because Hyunjin didn’t do love. He didn’t want it. Not from anyone.

And especially not from you.

You looked away. Reached for a cup you hadn’t planned on drinking from.

The first shot burned your throat.

The second made you laugh too loud at something that wasn’t funny.

The third — well, you didn’t remember pouring it.

By the time the music blurred into static and the room tipped slightly when you stood, your head was full of him. His hand on your leg. His voice saying “They look insane.” The way he smiled like nothing between you had ever been dangerous.

You drank because it was easier than feeling.

Hyunjin had stopped drinking long ago. You saw him watching you. Concern flickered in his eyes every time you reached for another glass. You ignored him. You were good at that, too.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he said finally, coming over and gently prying the cup from your fingers. “Let’s go home.”

You blinked up at him, a little dazed. “What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

His hand slipped around your wrist firmly. His touch was always gentle when it came to you. It hurt more that way.

You didn’t protest when he guided you out, his hand never leaving yours. Not until you stepped into the night and the air bit at your skin and your head started to clear just enough to feel everything again.

The ache. The longing. The quiet devastation of wanting someone who would never want you back.

—

You sat slumped against the passenger window, forehead pressed to the cool glass, trying not to think about the way his hand brushed yours when he helped you into the car. How it had lingered — warm, steady, a little too close to deliberate. Like he’d meant to pull you in and then remembered who you were.

Almost.

Outside, the city passed in slow, sleepy streaks. Warm golds. Faded greys. The world felt quieter than it should’ve, your heartbeat too loud against the hush of his playlist humming in the background. Neither of you spoke.

You didn’t trust your voice not to crack if you did.

When he pulled up outside your building, the engine ticked into silence, and for a beat too long, neither of you moved.

You shifted. “You don’t have to walk me up.”

“I know.” But he came anyway.

The elevator was a closed box of silence. Your floor blinked past in soft dings, but you barely registered them. You were too aware of him, the heat of his body beside you, the clean scent of his cologne, the way his hand brushed the small of your back when you stepped out, so light you almost convinced yourself you imagined it.

Your fingers fumbled with the keys. Wine still in your blood. Nerves screaming under your skin. The key missed the lock once — twice — before Hyunjin reached forward, curling his hand around your wrist.

“Hey,” he murmured. “I got it.”

It wasn’t the touch that undid you. It was how long he held it. How gentle. How it felt like he wanted to stay close.

Like maybe he didn’t hate how your skin felt, even if he didn’t want to need it.

The door clicked open. You stepped inside. He followed without asking. Like always.

And maybe it was the way the light fell soft against his jaw, or the fact that your mouth still tasted like longing, or the weight of his hand still echoing against your wrist — but suddenly you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Do you really think love is a mistake?”

He turned toward you. Brow faintly drawn. “What?”

You swallowed. Closed the door behind you. “At the party. When Jisung was making fun of couples. You said they looked stupid. You meant it, didn’t you?”

He stared at you for a long moment. Long enough to make the air feel heavy.

Then he crossed the room, leaned against your kitchen counter, arms folding across his chest like armor. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I meant it.”

You waited. He didn’t elaborate.

“Why?” you asked.

His jaw tightened. He rubbed the back of his neck — a nervous habit — like he was trying to chase something out of his own skin. “Because love ruins things,” he said, low and bitter. “Because people say forever and leave the second it gets hard. Because I’ve already been that idiot once and it fucking broke me.”

The words were sharp. Not at you but still, they cut.

“I’m not people, Hyunjin.”

That made him pause.

His gaze lifted. Locked on yours. And for the first time that night, he looked at you. Not past you. Not through you. At you — like he was seeing something he hadn’t let himself see before.

His voice came out rough. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That thing where you make it sound like you could be different.”

“Maybe I could be.”

His shoulders tensed. You took a step closer.

“I’ve been here,” you said softly. “Every time. No matter what mood you’re in. No matter how much you push.”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“I know.” Your voice cracked a little. “But still, you let me in. You always do.”

He didn’t speak.

You took another step.

“You touch me like it means something,” you whispered. “And maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I’m just reading into things I shouldn’t. But I wish—”

You stopped. Bit back the words.

“I wish you didn’t make it so easy to love you.”

That hit.

You saw it. The way his eyes flickered. The way his lips parted like he was about to say something he’d regret.

The space between you throbbed.

He stepped toward you — slow, hesitant — until he was close enough to reach. Close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath. His gaze dropped, lingered on your mouth.

He didn’t kiss you. But he didn’t walk away either.

Your name left his lips, soft and broken. A whisper edged in something dangerous.

You blinked, swallowed hard, then stepped back. Too fast.

“Forget it,” you murmured. “I’m tired.”

“Wait—”

But you were already turning, already walking toward your bedroom, away from the crash you almost let happen.

And Hyunjin stood in your kitchen hands clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving like he’d just realized something he wasn’t ready to admit. Still he didn’t follow.

—

You woke up with the taste of regret clinging to your tongue.

Your head pounded, the dull throb blooming behind your eyes as sunlight bled through your curtains too brightly. Your throat was dry, your limbs a little heavy, like your body was punishing you for last night’s stupidity.

And then it hit you.

Not the headache. Not the dehydration.

The memory.

Your breath stalled. You shot upright, the sheets tangling around your legs like they were trying to drag you back under. You’d said it. You actually said it. Out loud. To him. In your kitchen. With your hair a mess and wine swimming in your veins.

���I wish you didn’t make it so easy to love you.”

You groaned — loud and pathetic — and shoved your face into your hands. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Your chest tightened. Your stomach churned. You pulled at your hair like it might jolt the moment out of your skull, erase the words, roll back the clock. But they were still there, echoing through your skull like a song you couldn’t shut off.

You checked your phone. Nothing from him. Not a single text. No call. Not even a stupid meme, which he always sent after parties, something about how hard he’d regretted leaving the house, or how gross drunk people were.

But this time? Radio silence.

You paced. You spiraled. You considered deleting your entire existence and moving to another continent. Maybe start a new life with a new name. Somewhere snowy. Somewhere far from boys with lazy grins and hands that rest too casually on your thigh.

God, his hand.

You let out a strangled sound, turned on your heel, and marched toward the kitchen. You needed water. Or coffee. Or a time machine.

You rounded the corner—and screamed.

Hyunjin was standing by your counter.

Barefoot. Hair a mess. Same hoodie from last night slouched off one shoulder, like he’d never left.

Because he hadn’t.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He didn’t flinch. “I couldn’t leave.”

You blinked. Words stuttering behind your lips. “You—? What?”

“I tried. I got as far as the door.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, jaw tight. “But I couldn’t go.”

You stared at him, throat closing around a dozen questions you were too afraid to ask.

His voice was quieter now. “We need to talk.”

And just like that, the hangover didn’t matter anymore.

You swallowed. The air between you shifted, dense and sharp like a wire pulled too tight. “Right. Um. Okay.”

You backed toward the fridge like the moment might forget you existed if you just kept moving. Pulled open the door. Grabbed the water bottle. Avoided his eyes.

He didn’t speak. Just watched you — heavy, unmoving, arms folded across his chest like a barricade.

You unscrewed the cap. Took a long drink. Cleared your throat. “About last night…”

His gaze didn’t waver.

You smiled shaky and rehearsed. “I was so drunk. I barely remember anything.”

A beat passed.

He blinked once. Slowly. “You don’t remember.”

“Not really, no.”

“Nothing at all?”

You gave a small, helpless laugh. “I mean, bits and pieces. I was clearly talking nonsense—”

“Right,” he cut in. “Nonsense.”

He turned his head then, jaw flexing. Something sharp flashed through his expression, not hurt or disbelief but something closer to anger.

Your stomach dipped and you shifted on your feet. “I just didn’t want to make things weird between us.”

“Well, too late for that,” he said, voice tight.

You blinked. “Hyunjin—”

He took a step toward you.

Your breath caught.

He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes narrowing. “So let me get this straight. You weren’t confessing anything. You didn’t mean any of it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you said you don’t remember.” He moved again. Another step. “You’re saying I made it up?”

“That’s not—”

“You’re saying I imagined the way your voice shook when you said you loved me?”

You froze.

He kept going. Low. Dangerous. Closer.

“You’re saying my touch doesn’t affect you?”

You flinched.

“Doesn’t make you forget what you’re saying, what you’re doing, who you’re trying so hard to be?”

His hand lifted slowly and deliberately brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Just the pads of his fingers, soft and reverent, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to touch you or punish you with it.

You didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.

His voice was barely a whisper now. “Tell me I made it up.”

You couldn’t. Because you didn’t.

And he knew that. Every inch of him — from the tight line of his shoulders to the way his mouth hovered just shy of yours — was daring you to keep lying.

And you couldn’t do it. Not when your whole body was already leaning into the gravity of him.

Not when every second of silence stretched the ache between you like a fuse begging to be lit.

You didn’t mean to touch him. Your hand just moved on its own — curled gently over his chest like it could quiet the tremble beneath your skin. He was so close now, heat radiating off him like a fever, like fire, and you were drowning in it.

And then he pulled you in.

A sharp inhale caught in your throat as his hands slid around your waist. His grip wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t soft either, it was firm. Steady. Like he wasn’t letting go, even if he should.

He stared down at you, the weight of his gaze unbearable. Like he could read every word you hadn’t said. Like your silence was loud.

You didn’t know what to do with the way he looked at you.

You didn’t know what to do with the way your body ached to close the last inch.

His mouth was right there, full and parted, breath fanning across your cheek like a dare. You felt the heat blooming in your chest, your stomach, the place between your thighs. You weren’t breathing. Couldn’t.

“Are you ready to talk now?” he asked, voice thick, jaw tight.

The spell shattered like glass between you.

You pulled back. Just barely. Not enough to escape, only to feel the sudden absence of the moment you were about to break into.

Your throat burned. “Do we have to?”

He didn’t smile. “Yes.”

You stepped back, just enough for air, for distance, even if it felt like a wound. He let you go. Slowly. Like it hurt him too.

You moved to the couch, legs folding under you like your bones forgot how to hold your weight. Hyunjin stayed standing for a moment, then sat beside you but far enough to be polite and close enough to make your chest ache.

He spoke first.

“I don’t do love,” he said, low and flat. “Not anymore.”

You stared at your hands. “I know.”

“I’m not built for it. I ruin people. I ruin things that matter.”

“You don’t ruin—”

He cut you off. “I can’t lose you.”

Your breath caught.

He looked at you then — really looked. Like he was begging you to understand the truth behind the cruelty. “If we cross that line and it goes wrong, we don’t come back from it. And I’d rather die than lose what we have.”

You swallowed hard. “Hyunjin—”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you’re serious.” Your voice cracked. “That’s the problem.”

He went quiet.

You stared at the floor, eyes glassy, throat burning. “Do you think I wanted this?”

He flinched.

“I didn’t plan to fall for you. I wasn’t sitting around plotting the day I’d mess up our friendship and destroy every ounce of peace I have with you.”

He looked at you then, expression unreadable.

“If I hadn’t been drunk last night, you would’ve never even known. I would’ve buried it like I’ve been doing for months. I would’ve pretended I was fine.”

He said nothing.

“And now I wish I had. I wish I could take it back. Not the feelings—” your voice broke, “but the part where you know.”

Silence pressed down like a weight.

You thought maybe, maybe he’d soften now. Maybe he’d say it was okay, that he understood.

But his jaw clenched. His fists tightened.

“Right,” he said, voice sharp. “So the part you regret is that I know. That’s what’s unbearable.”

You blinked. “That’s not what I meant—”

He stood suddenly, pacing now. Anger clinging to every movement. “You think I wanted to know that last night? You think I haven’t spent months trying to unsee the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?”

You went still.

He continued, voice low, rough with something too bitter to name. “Do you think I haven’t wanted you?”

Silence. Heavy. Deadly.

“Because I have,” he whispered. “And it scared the shit out of me.”

Hyunjin didn’t look at you when he had started talking. He stood in the center of your living room, hands restless at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. Like if he looked at you, really looked, the whole damn thing would collapse.

“I didn’t want it to get this far,” he said quietly. “Not because I didn’t feel it. God, that’s the problem. I did.”

You froze.

“I thought I could control it,” he went on, still not meeting your eyes. “That if I ignored it long enough, if I kept the lines blurry but just on the edge, I could trick myself out of wanting more.”

You couldn’t breathe.

“I used to tell myself you didn’t feel it back. That it was just me being stupid. Needy. Fucking reckless.” He exhaled like the words had been clawing at his throat. “But it was easier when I could lie to myself. When I thought you didn’t want me.”

Your heart cracked open.

“I’ve ruined things before,” he said. “I’ve crossed lines and lost people and ended up with nothing but memories I can’t even look at without feeling sick. And this—” His voice caught. “You’re not just anyone. You’re you. If I lose you—”

He broke off. Finally looked at you.

“And now I know you feel it too,” he said, softer this time. “And that makes it worse. Because now I don’t have an excuse. Now it’s not just me risking everything, it’s you, and if this goes sideways, I don’t know if I can survive it.”

You didn’t speak. You just watched him, the slope of his shoulders, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes gave him away even when his mouth tried to bury the truth.

He still thought he was protecting you.

But it was too late for that. You were already in it, knee-deep in the ache of wanting him, the mess of loving him when you weren’t supposed to. And now you knew he’d been there too, quietly drowning beside you.

You stepped toward him.

His breath hitched.

Another step.

He went quiet, eyes tracking your every move like he couldn’t believe it was happening.

“I just—” he started, but the words faltered. His gaze dropped to your mouth. “I’m trying to explain—”

You didn’t let him. You reached for him, hands slipping up his chest and then, without giving him time to overthink it, you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

Softly.

His whole body went still.

Then, slowly, like gravity was always going to win, his hands found your waist and pulled you in.

The moment your lips touched his again, something broke. Not like a door creaking open — no, it splintered, cracked wide with the force of everything you both had kept buried. All the pretending. All the tension. All the times his hand lingered too long or his eyes dropped to your lips before he looked away. All of it, gone.

Hyunjin kissed you back like he’d been starving for it. His hands gripped your waist like they didn’t trust you to stay. His mouth slanted over yours, greedy, all tongue and heat and breath. He backed you into the wall without thinking, your spine pressing into it as he kissed you harder, deeper, like you were something he’d gone too long without and wasn’t sure he’d ever get again.

You moaned into his mouth and felt him shudder.

It wasn’t gentle. Nothing about it was. His hands moved — down, around, up again — like he couldn’t figure out where he needed to touch you first. Like he wanted to touch all of you at once. And when you tugged at his shirt, he gasped against your lips, forehead dropping to yours for just a second before he dragged you right back in.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispered, the words barely making it out between kisses. “Fuck— I shouldn’t be doing this.”

But his mouth didn’t stop. Neither did yours.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugged — and he groaned, low and wrecked, and kissed you like the world was ending. Like this was the last chance he’d ever get and he had to make it count. Your thigh brushed his hip, and his hand dropped low, pulling you closer, flush against him. You felt all of it. The tension, the heat, the way his body trembled like he was about to fall apart.

And maybe he was.

Because this wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t safe or careful or quiet.

This was everything.

You didn’t care. You didn’t want safe. You wanted him. Wanted every part of him he tried to hide, every buried glance and stolen moment and terrified truth. And now that you had it — had him — there was no pretending anymore.

He kissed you like he finally understood that. And still, it wasn’t enough

His lips dragged down your jaw, bruising kisses pressed beneath your ear, and you felt the words before you heard them — breathless and shaken.

“Tell me to stop.”

His voice cracked as he said it. Like it cost him everything just to get the words out.

“Tell me to walk away right now, and I will.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

“I’m serious,” he said again, softer now, forehead pressed to your neck like he couldn’t bear to look at you. His hands trembled where they gripped your waist. “Just say the word. Please. Before we—before I ruin everything.”

And maybe in another life, you would’ve. Maybe if his touch didn’t feel like home and every kiss didn’t feel like a promise he’d been aching to keep, you would’ve saved him. Saved yourself.

But you didn’t want saving.

You wanted him.

So you reached for his face, made him look at you — really look at you — and you said it like a vow.

“I want you, Hyunjin.”

He flinched like it hurt to hear.

You stepped closer anyway, your voice a whisper against his lips.

“We won’t ruin anything,” you promised, fingers threading into his hair. “Not if you just let me love you. Not if you just let it happen.”

Something snapped in him and then he was on you. Mouth claiming yours, teeth catching your bottom lip before he groaned deep in his throat and kissed you like he’d been waiting. Like this was a secret he’d never meant to let slip, and now that he had, he needed every part of you to make sense of it.

You didn’t stand a chance. His hands were under your shirt before you could blink, fingers mapping your skin like he was desperate to learn it by heart. Clothes tugged off, your top discarded, his shirt thrown to the floor. Every inch of newly bared skin ignited under his touch. Your skirt bunched at your hips, and the moment his hand slid between your thighs, you nearly sobbed.

“Fuck—” he hissed, mouth dragging down your neck. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You did. You felt it. Pressed up against you, hard and pulsing through the thin fabric of his sweats. He rocked into you once, and your knees buckled. His arms caught you before you fell.

He carried you like you weighed nothing.

You didn’t remember how you got to the couch. Just his mouth, hot and everywhere, and the way he settled you beneath him, eyes dark with something between reverence and hunger. You weren’t trembling — you were shaking.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hovering above you, voice wrecked. “Tell me now, and I’ll stop. I swear.”

You cupped his cheek. Pulled him down until your lips were brushing his.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You felt the way that shattered him.

A ragged breath left his lips, and something raw crossed his face — awe, hunger, need. And then he kissed you. Deep and dizzying. No more hesitation. No more holding back. Just Hyunjin tasting your mouth like he’d starved for it, like he was finally allowed to be greedy.

His hands were everywhere, cradling your jaw, skimming down your ribs, tugging your skirt up your thighs until it bunched around your waist. When his fingers slipped beneath your panties, finding you slick and already throbbing, he moaned like it physically hurt him to touch you.

“Fuck… you’re already so wet,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “Did I do that?”

You nodded, barely able to form words.

“Hyun…”

“Say it again,” he murmured, fingers parting your folds, dragging over your clit in slow, teasing circles. “Say my name like that.”

You gasped, hips arching into his touch. “Hyunjin—”

He groaned. “God, you’re gonna kill me.”

Then he was trailing down your body, kissing a path from your chest to your stomach, his hands anchoring your thighs as he sank to his knees on the floor. You propped yourself up on your elbows, breath caught in your throat.

He hooked your panties to the side and just… looked. Like you were art. Like he’d dreamed of this exact moment and couldn’t believe it was real.

And then his mouth was on you. Hot. Wet. Relentless. His tongue lapped through your folds, slow and sinful, before wrapping around your clit and sucking hard. Your head fell back with a cry, fingers flying to his hair, but he just groaned against you, the vibration making you choke on a moan.

“Shit—Hyunjin, oh my god—”

He didn’t stop. If anything, he got hungrier. Dipping his tongue into your entrance, fucking you with it, then dragging it back up to flick over your clit until your thighs were shaking.

When your hips bucked up too hard, he gripped your thighs tighter and held you down, his shoulders braced against your legs to keep you from moving.

“You’re gonna cum for me,” he muttered against you, voice thick and dark. “On my tongue. I’ve wanted this for so fucking long—”

You were already there.

Your back arched, mouth falling open in a silent scream as the orgasm hit you like a wave crashing down. He kept licking through it, eyes locked on your face like he needed to see you fall apart.

When you finally collapsed back against the couch, breathless and wrecked, he crawled back up your body and kissed you, slow and filthy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You good?” he asked, voice a rasp in your ear.

You blinked at him. “Are you?”

He gave a breathless laugh and looked down between you. “Not even close.”

You hadn’t even realized he’d stripped out of his sweats. His cock was flushed, thick, and straining with need — and he was still trying to hold back.

That wouldn’t do.

You reached for him, but he caught your hand and kissed your fingers before pushing them away. Then he grabbed your thighs, spreading you wider, and hooked your legs over his shoulders. The position left you bare and open and trembling.

His eyes burned into yours.

“I need you to look at me when I fuck you.”

Then he pressed forward. The first inch made your breath catch , too much, too deep, but you didn’t look away. Neither did he.

“Fuck—” he gritted out, his hips pushing forward in slow, agonizing inches until he was fully inside, stretching you open, filling you to the hilt. “You feel like heaven. Like you were made for me.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Just him, inside you, looking at you like this was his last wish granted.

And then he moved. He pulled out and sank back in, hard and deep, your legs folded up on his shoulders, the angle hitting something devastating. Your moan broke halfway out as he picked up a rhythm, hips snapping forward, each thrust driving the air from your lungs.

“Tell me you want this,” he said, voice tight. “Tell me this isn’t just in my head.”

“I want you,” you gasped. “As real as it can get—always.”

That undid him. His hand slid between your bodies, thumb finding your clit again as he fucked you deeper, harder. The couch creaked under you, the heat between your bodies suffocating. You could barely hold on, could barely keep your eyes open.

And then you came again, harder this time. Shaking, crying out his name, nails raking down his back as you clung to him. He followed seconds later, hips jerking, his face buried in your neck as he came with a broken groan, body tense and shuddering above you.

For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft, desperate way he kissed your shoulder.

Then his voice, hoarse in your ear.

“We’re so fucked.”

And you smiled, wrecked and radiant.

“I know.”

—

You didn’t know how long you stayed tangled like that. Your legs still draped over his hips, his chest rising and falling against yours, sweat cooling between your bodies. The air was heavy with the scent of sex and everything unspoken.

Hyunjin’s fingers trailed gently over your hip, then your stomach, then the side of your throat like he was relearning every inch of you now that he didn’t have to pretend he hadn’t imagined this a thousand times before.

Then he kissed you, not with hunger this time, but like he’d been waiting years to kiss you soft.

“You okay?” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, brushing your nose against his.

“More than okay.”

His eyes searched your face, like he was trying to commit you to memory all over again.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he whispered. “You’re all sticky.”

You let him carry you to the bathroom.

He set you on the counter first and helped you undress fully, stealing kisses as he did, his hands so gentle now, like he didn’t want to miss a moment of touching you like this. He peeled your underwear down slowly, kissed your thighs. His eyes flicked down between your legs — red, sensitive, swollen from what they’d done.

A blush climbed your neck.

But he just smiled, warm and a little dazed.

“I like seeing you like this,” he said quietly. “All wrecked from me.”

The shower was hot and full of steam. He let you step in first, then wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as the water ran over both of you.

Neither of you talked much. Just small sounds. Little laughs. The soft lather of his hands running over your arms, your back, your chest.

When you turned to face him, water dripping down your hair and cheeks, he stared at you like you were made of gold.

“I still feel like I’m dreaming,” he said. “I’ve wanted this for so long, I don’t know how to believe it’s real.”

You touched his face. “It’s real.”

He leaned into your palm.

“Then say it again.”

You blinked. “Say what?”

“Those three words.” His voice cracked a little. “Just once more. Please.”

Your heart stuttered.

You stood on your toes and kissed him, slow and tender, water slipping between your mouths. When you pulled back, you looked him straight in the eyes.

“I love you.”

Hyunjin exhaled like you’d knocked the wind out of him. His arms wrapped tighter around your waist, like if he didn’t hold you closer he might fall apart.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “God, I love you so much it fucking hurts.”

And then he was kissing you again. Not frantic — not this time. Just deep, adoring, like he finally knew what home tasted like.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Authors note: Everyone please say happy birthday to Angel @angel-writes-skz-here ! Thanks for organizing this fun event, I need you guys to check the Event Masterlist for the other stories! Mine was based on the song DLMLU, i hope i captured it well 🥹❤️

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss @firelordtsuki @justwonder113 @mbioooo0000 @sammhisphere @nebugalaxy @cutecucumberkimberly @chancloud8

[hwangjoanna]

I will re-read this until the end of time! It’s one of my all time favourites! 🥹

「𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘」 · masterlist

SYNOPSIS ➥ Clueless about what "manhood" entails, Hyunjin is supposed to get married to his childhood best friend a month after he turns eighteen, and his mother resorts to arranging a "makeshift wife" to train him for it.

This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

※ Hyunjin x Reader (f) — Arranged "Trainer" AU, SKZerton: Period Drama/Alternative History, Romance, Forced Proximity, Age Gap, Slowburn, Steamy

※ Commissioned by @straywrds

※ Reader discretion advised — Heavy religious elements, period-typical stereotypes and shallow views, explicit sexual content, strong language.

CONTENT · 「43.3k」 · Prologue: Gates of Hell · Day 1: Respect · Day 3: Respect · Day 8: Sharing · Day 12: Communication · Day 15: Sharing · Day 20: Communication · Day 23: Passion · Day 24: Passion: Pt. 1 ⋮ Pt. 2 ⋮ Pt. 3 ⋮ Pt. 4 ⋮ Pt. 5 · Day 25: Passion: Pt. 1 ⋮ Pt. 2 · Day 27: Love · Day 29: Love · Last Day: Devotion

「© 2021-2025, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

[hwangjoanna]

‘Red Light, Green Light.’

Dom/Hyunjin X Sub/Reader | Squid Game AU | 18+ MDNI | Enemies to Lovers I Thriller | Gore | Slow Burn | Angst | Fluff | Smut I Hyunjin, Minho & Seungmin are mean | Felix & Han are soft boys

Warnings - 18+ MDNI, Swearing, Mutual Pining, Angst, Grief, Mentions of Death, Gore, Violence, Nightmares, Sexual Themes.

A/N - Thank you so much for your patience and support for the series. Sorry for the short chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count - 4,386

Part 13

Chapter 14

HYUNJIN POV

I’m not sure how long it’s been since Minho died, but time seemed to stand still, rewind, and fast-forward all at once.

She’s still there, kneeling next to his cadaver, covered in his blood, her crimson-stained hands now sitting in her lap. I don’t know how to comfort her. I’m not good with my emotions, let alone someone else’s. I wanted to open up to her earlier when she was lying in my lap but when I did, she left like she didn’t want to hear it.

She scares me.

Not her, just how she makes me feel. She’s an enigma. I’ve never met a woman like her, powerful, sexy as fuck but also vulnerable and sensitive. It’s maddening.

I wanted to tell her that I liked her, that I cared about her but she walked away.

Then, when Felix returned with her in his arms, I felt the usual jealousy in my chest but mainly, I was worried. She was bruised and sobbing. I don’t think I had done that to her but I also manhandled her quite a bit when we fucked in the bathroom.

And that fucking guard. He touched her like she was his possession. I hated that. Almost as much as I hated how Felix acted when he was around her or how Seungmin looked at her.

Right now, however, I couldn’t question her. I couldn’t run over all guns blazing and accuse her like last time. The game had reminded me of what I could lose if I pushed her away.

What is happening to me, I’ve never given a shit about anyone else in a long time. Not since I was a kid. In here I have to keep reminding myself that I’m here to win this. I have to get away from the syndicate, I have to start a new life.

But winning means I leave her behind. I have to be selfish here. I have to remember why I came here but she makes it so fucking difficult and what’s worse is the fact that she won’t fucking speak to me. I don’t even know what I did this time. Did I come on too strong? Did I hurt her?

Maybe I should give her space, but if I do she might go running to her fucking guard dog again. Felix. Even his name pisses me off, his stupid perfect face and kind demeanour. Surely it’s fake, no one’s that fucking perfect.

I’m just staring at her now, She probably thinks I’m a freak. God, she’s so fucking hot when she cries, but I do hate seeing her like this too. Broken.

Losing Minho sucks, I had come to care for him too. Another surprise for me, whilst I got jealous when he and Seungmin flirted with her, I still felt a sense of brotherhood with them, similar to that of my relationship with San on the outside. Even Jisung’s death had upset me but Minhos angered me more than anything.

Jisung did to save us, to save Minho and now he’s also dead and all because that cunt guard fucked with him.

I’m dreading the next game. I’m dreading trying to get through it while our group grieves another loss.

I don’t know what to do, how to be.

I’ve officially lost my head.

Y/N POV

You stare at your hands. The blood has dried under your nails, copper and brown, crusting along the creases of your knuckles. Minho’s blood. You try to rub it off on your trousers, but it only smears, painting new shapes on the fabric. You see his face every time you blink, the way he smiled, even at the end, even when the light left his eyes.

“It’s okay, kitten.”

It’s not. It’s not okay.

You press your palms to your eyes and swallow your sobs, the room around you too quiet, too cold. The guards walked past like nothing happened, like you’re nothing. You hate them. You hate the games. You hate that you’re still alive when he isn’t. When Jisung isn’t.

You promise yourself you’ll keep going, but the promise feels hollow, heavy in your chest like an anchor dragging you under water because what’s the point of surviving in a place like this, if every step you take forward takes the memory of them further away?

Felix appears in your peripheral vision, and you know every stain on his shoes. You can tell it’s his footsteps, his sound gentle and almost rhythmic.

He squats down, “Angel?” He sings out, softly like he doesn’t want to demand anything from you.

That’s when you meet his gaze, he looks just as broken as you feel.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t step in fast enough.” More tears fall down his perfect freckled cheeks.

“You couldn’t have done anything Lix, none of us could.” You say just above a whisper. “It’s those fucking monsters who are to blame.” You glance at a camera that points directly at you.

Suddenly, everything boils to the surface. The fact that you can’t go to Hyunjin, the way that triangle guard had treated you, Jisung's and Minho's deaths. The game. It all just became too much all at once.

A violent and unrelenting scream falls out of your mouth.

The other players in the room, even some guards jump or wince at the sound.

You take in another deep breath and scream again.

“Y/N?” Felix calls out to you but you don’t hear him. You take off one of your shoes, tears streaming down your face, your throat raw from your screams.

You walk towards a camera in the corner of the room and throw your shoe straight at it, the crash echoes around the room and the tech falls to the floor with a clatter, broken into pieces.

“Angel, calm down-“ Felix says but he’s interrupted by a guard pushing past him walking straight towards you.

Hyunjin sits up after watching you, quickly rising to his feet and making his way over to where you continue shouting, you don’t even know the words coming out of your own mouth. The sounds are feral but muffled by your own ringing ears, flaming red in anger.

The guard grabs you, “Shut up you little bitch,” his ominous voice rings out, you’re sure it’s the one who threatened you but in the moment you don’t care, you thrash, kicking your feet as he picks you up from behind, his arm around your waist knocking the air from your lungs.

He drags you to your bed and fear spikes in your stomach, “GET OFF ME!” You shout but it’s no use and he continues regardless.

Hyunjin is the first to get to you but another guard points a gun at him. “Don’t fucking move player 320.” He commands and Hyunjin steps back immediately raising his hands. Seungmin and Felix drop back too.

The guard holding you throws you onto the floor and you attempt to crawl away but his grip finds your ankle and he pulls you back towards the bed, Your numbered T-shirt rides up and the tiles below you burn against your skin. You scream, the guard then grabs your wrist and places a handcuff around it tightly, the metal scrapes deeply into your wrist, and the bone beneath is stiff and sore.

He clips the other end of the cuffs onto your bed frame, finally letting go of you.

You pull against the chain but it’s no use it just cuts into your skin and you whimper.

The guard crouches in front of you with his gun now turned towards you.

The whole room is staring at both of you but your tears blur your vision. The guard laughs, it’s a sick, twisted gutful sound that makes you want to punch that stupid triangle off his face.

He leans towards your ear and pulls his mask up enough so only you can hear his whisper. “You look good like this, now behave.” That voice again, it makes bile rise in your throat so familiar and yet out of reach in your memory.

Felix and Hyunjin stood by extremely tense, their jaws clenched and their hands fisted to their sides. Seungmin was still sitting on Minho's bunk watching the whole thing unfold, his gaze was dark yet, unreadable.

The guard rose to his feet and tapped your cheek, the gloved hand causing you to wince away. He chuckles darkly, the sound flooding the quiet room.

Most of the other players are still watching but you continue to look up at the guard, it’s like you can feel the smirk beneath his mask. He turns his head and retreats through the main doors.

Above you, the clear piggy bank rocks as another lot of cash drops into it, another stark reminder of Minho's death looms over you but you don’t look up to watch it happen. You just stare down at the cold floor like it’s the only thing grounding you in the moment.

“Angel?” Felix’s voice breaks you out of your slumber, your muscles pained as your eyes flutter open. The cuff is still digging into your wrist where your hand hung lifelessly while you slept. Your neck is strained.

Light floods your irises and you wince before seeing Felix’s face in front of you, he’s crouched down, a halo of blonde around his features like he’s the one who’s the angel.

“I’m sorry to wake you but you need to eat.” He says, gently.

“I- I’m-“ you try to get words out but your throat is dry and coarse from the screams you admitted earlier.

“Here,” he says, bringing a bottle of water to your lips. He softly guides your head back to drink and you do so without hesitation. The cool liquid is refreshing as it slides into your mouth, you swallow a few sips and he pulls it away. Your mouth follows but he stops you with his hold.

“Sorry Angel, just take it slow for me,” he whispers.

You nod still unable to speak as he breaks some bread and brings it to your lips. You two of you make eye contact as he places the food on your tongue, your mouth follows his movements but he keeps his fingers in there. As your lips curl around his digits, he swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. You hold his gaze and he sighs through his nose.

“Is this okay?” He asks, tentatively.

You nod running your tongue over his thumb and he shifts slightly.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath and pulls his hand away.

Suddenly you feel overwhelmed by his gentleness, his care that he gives with no demand for anything in return. You realise you’ve been so focused on Hyunjin, you’ve neglected your friendship with Felix. A tear falls down your flushed cheek and Felix wipes it away immediately.

“No, Angel don’t cry.” He says.

He nettles himself next to you and lays your legs over his effectively placing you on his lap. His arms cradle you as you begin to sob against his chest, your tears soaking into his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is hoarse. “I want them back, why won’t they come back?” You whimper but it’s muffled against the fabric.

“I know, Angel, I know, shh-“ he coos, in an attempt to calm you down. “You have me, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

You just cry more, your free hand runs over his shoulder grabby and needy.

He kisses your crown and runs his cheek over it. He rocks you gently for a moment before your exhaustion takes you again.

The smell of alcohol.

Crimson hands.

Sticky blood trickles off your fingers onto the floor in lazy drops, trailing along the tiles.

You call out but there’s no reply.

Just that eerie, mechanical hum.

You try to move, but the floor shifts beneath you like a conveyor belt, dragging you forward no matter how hard you resist. The walls begin to pulse like lungs and the lights flash red.

There’s a door ahead and you burst through it.

It’s the main room but it’s different. The beds are twisted, stacked wrong. The walls are smeared with numbers and tally marks carved in desperation. You see Jisung’s jacket on the floor, soaked through with blood. You crouch to touch it, whispering his name out loud…

“Kitten.”

You whip around, turning towards the voice.

Minho stands in the corner, his eyes are sunken, and his skin is grey, one of his hands is pressed to his stomach where blood oozes out. He smiles, but it’s slow and crooked, and says, “You promised you’d keep me alive.”

You shake your head. “I tried to stop them!” You say.

“But you didn’t,” he says, stepping closer to you. “You let me die.”

Then another voice cuts through the dark.

“Why’d you let me go first?”

Jisung is sitting on one of the bunks, swinging his legs like a child. There’s a hole in the side of his head and it whistles when he tilts it. His eyes are wide and bright, but they don’t see you. “You said we’d stick together,” he says. “But you were never really mine to hold, were you?”

You scream for them to stop, to shut up, to please just stop but they talk over you. Their voices ring out louder and mix, layering into the static.

Silence.

A hand touches your shoulder.

You spin, and it’s Hyunjin but his face is wrong. His eyes are empty and his lips cracked into a maniacal smile. He tilts his head. “You’re mine now,” he whispers. “There’s no one left to save.”

You try to back away, but his hands are already around your throat. His mouth grazes your ear. “You’re such a good little thing when you’re scared.”

The blood on your hands begins to boil.

You start to scream…

You wake up covered in sweat and you’re trembling. Your wrist is pulled tight in the cuff, your arm a dead weight, numb from hanging above your head. As your eyes start to focus in the dark room you see Hyunjin lying in Minho's bed, his eyes glow in the black space, he’s looking directly at you and his expression is unreadable.

Then you feel the warmth of a body behind you, you glance down at an arm that’s holding your waist, and you can tell it’s Felix’s from the little freckles dotted over his forearm. He shifts slightly spooning you and you feel his hardness against your ass.

“Y/N…” he mumbles. But you don’t answer.

He’s just sleeping but there’s something about his voice that makes you wonder what he’s dreaming about. You look back at Hyunjin and he’s still watching you, he looks sad.

Neither of you speaks, you just stare for what feels like hours. You want to tell him what’s happened with the guard, why you haven’t gone to him again. You know it’s something he’s insecure about. He doesn’t like you seeking help from others when he feels he should be the one to comfort you. You understand but you can’t tell him that you do want him there with you. You want to lie with him, to have him as your person you go to but that guard will find out.

And the thought of anything happening to him because of you would hurt more than the distance between you does now.

The siren blared in the room, jolting you out of sleep. You winced the cuff around your arm that was cutting into your soft skin now, a ring of blood around your wrist. Felix is no longer lying next to you and you catch him walking back from the bathroom.

“Morning Angel, did you sleep- fuck are you okay?” He interrupts himself when he sees the blood on your wrist.

You follow his line of sight, “Yeah, I’m almost used to it by now,” you say with a frown.

He mirrors your expression, that’s when Seungmin comes up to you with a wet paper towel in hand. He wordlessly takes hold of your arm, gently but somewhat possessively. Felix just watches him dumbfounded. You, however, are unbothered. Seungmin had cleaned you before saying it was his way of looking out for you and you’re grateful for that.

He wipes the cool tissue over your wrist reverently. You hiss out loud and he glances at you. “Sorry Y/N, I’m almost done. Just stay still for me,” he whispers.

Felix reaches your other hand, “You okay?” He asks.

You nod, but your face is pulled into a grimace. You look over to Minho’s old bed and your eyes meet Hyunjin’s. He looks upset, so you look away quickly not wanting him to come over, you can’t avoid him if you’re cuffed to the bed and ignoring him would sadden you even more.

Suddenly, you all hear the guards filing into the room. What now? You pray you have longer till the next game but you know from their stance that there’s an announcement coming.

“The next game is ready, please follow an assigned guard to the game room immediately.” The guard with the circle mask calls out and your blood runs cold. In the moment you don’t have the strength to deal with what’s coming but you know you’ll have to.

The triangle masked man approaches and you can just feel the fucking smirk that’s hidden beneath. “Player 013, it’s time to go.” The guard unlocks the cuff from the bedpost and puts it onto his own wrist with a click, you attempt to pull yourself free from him but he grabs you mid-move. “You’re a danger to yourself and others, you’ll be escorted by me to and from the game room today, until you have proven otherwise.” He says whilst dragging you to your feet, you don’t respond, there’s no point.

Hyunjin, Felix and Seungmin follow you through the maze of stairs to the game room, none of them argue or say anything about the fact you’re cuffed to that monster and in all honesty you’re grateful for it, you don’t want any of them to run the risk of being shot by a guard after what happened to Minho.

As you make your way there the guard goes to hold your hand but you move it away, but once again he grips your hand tightly, your bones crunch together under his fist and you yelp.

He turns to you, “Misbehave and see what happens.” He says.

“But you’re hurting me,” you whimper. All three of the men behind you wince but Hyunjin has a face like thunder. His features pulled into a frown, he steps towards the two of you, “Get your-,” he starts to argue but you quickly interrupt him.

“Hyunjin, please! Don’t!” You say in a desperate plea.

Hyunjin stops and his gaze meets yours, it’s the first time you’ve addressed him since you were lying with him on your bed and the shock on his face is evident. You try to shake your head subtly, and the guard watches both of you for a moment before dragging you away towards what you assume is the game room.

The guard turns to you again, “Good girl, see that wasn’t so hard was it?” He chuckles and you shiver in disgust.

The door to the room slides open with a mechanical hiss, inside, the room is surreal. Vast, geometric, and flooded in saturated yellow light, dread seeps into your bones as you take in your surroundings. In the middle of the room, there is a gumball machine, filled with red and blue balls.

“Please form a queue and pick your colour,” a guard in a magenta uniform announces on the stage at the far end of the room.

The triangle guard unlocks the cuff with a key swiftly and steps away without another word, you rub your wrist almost instinctively. The blood on your skin is now dry and a bruise forming.

You and the other players line up, all of them using the machine, a coloured ball dropping for each of them.

You notice Felix reach the front, and his fingers twist the metal knob. His colour is red.

When it comes to your turn the ball falls with a thud, but in the moment all you can hear is your pulse flooding your ears. You have no idea what blue means but that’s your colour, you turn to Felix and he gives you a worried smile. You walk to the side of the room with the other blue players.

Seungmin who had been standing behind you is next and his ball is red like Felix’s.

A few players pick theirs, then it’s Hyunjin’s turn.

And of course. It’s blue, the same as you.

As if fate wasn’t testing you enough.

Hyunjin comes and stands near you but he doesn’t even glance your way, he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t speak. He just stands there like he’s waiting for a bus.

The triangle guard who brought you in now approaches the stage, you can tell it’s him because by now you recognise his mannerisms and his stance. How he drags his left foot a little more than his right.

“Welcome to the next game, this one is hide and seek,” he announces as the room fills with murmurs.

You couldn’t help but worry, what do the different colours mean?

Another guard began passing around coloured vests to the players as the triangle guard continued, “You have been assigned as either a Hider or a Seeker. Hiders are blue, you will be placed into a multi-room maze with a key that opens doors to evade the seekers. Your goal is simple, escape, or survive for thirty minutes. The keys unlock the final exit.”

That’s when you and Hyunjin glance at each other. He still doesn’t say anything and his eyes are dark and unreadable.

“Seekers, the red team. You will be placed into the same maze, each armed with one dagger. Your goal is to eliminate at least one Hider before time runs out. If you don’t you will be eliminated.” The guard says, emotionless.

“So what you’re saying is,” another player in red calls out. “We have to kill them,” she gestures towards your side of the room as she speaks.

“That’s correct.” The guard responds bluntly.

Players around the room start shouting above each other, some laughing, others cowering in fear.

Felix stares at his knife, the handle brightly coloured as if it were nothing but a toy.

“If you would like to swap with a member of the opposing team, you may, if both of you agree.” The guard shouts over the noise causing most of the room to go silent again. “You have five minutes before we begin.” He says, finally.

Felix turns to Seungmin, “I don’t think I can do it.” The blonde says, doubtfully.

“You got this man,” Seungmin says placing his hand on Felix’s shoulder. “If you’re not sure ask someone to swap.”

Then Hyunjin looks at you again, his expression is one of worry but before you can say anything he makes his way across the room to Felix and Seungmin.

He speaks in a hushed tone to Felix, you can’t hear what he is saying but you watch on nonetheless.

You can see Felix nodding to what he’s saying, then Hyunjin glances at you and Felix follows his gaze until he looks back at him with an annoyed expression which quickly leaves his features when Hyunjin starts removing his vest.

You look on confused as they swap their coloured vests. Felix pulls Seungmin in for a hug before giving Hyunjin a small nod and making his way over to you.

“We got this Angel,” Felix says as he reaches for your hand. He strokes your knuckles with his thumb, a gentle smile on his face.

“Hyunjin swapped with you?” You ask.

Felix hums in response, “He said he’d be better at killing, I didn’t argue. He’s right.” Felix looks down as he says it.

“Right,” you say.

“We can hide together, you and me. That sound okay Angel?” Felix says, his sunshine smile unfortunately doing little to ease your worry but you were grateful for it nonetheless.

Before you can respond the guard makes another announcement, “Your time is up, Hiders please make your way through this door,” he says pointing towards the one on the far end of the room.

As you and Felix make your way to the door you glance back at Hyunjin and Seungmin one last time. Both of them are already watching you, “Good luck,” Seungmin shouts with a wink but Hyunjin just stares at you coldly.

And you’re not sure whether you’ll see either of them again.

AUTHOR POV

The Masked Leader made his way through the dark corridor at an unhurried pace. The next game was prepped and ready to be viewed. This was his favourite time, the games. Watching the fear on the contestants' faces, hearing their screams and seeing what would unfold when people were pushed to their limits.

But what he loved even more than that was entertaining his guests, the VIPs.

The masked Leader stepped into the room, which was a dimly lit, intimate space with plush velvet couches and tables that circled a screen.

“We were wondering when you’d arrive,” the man in the gold bull mask said expectantly. “They’re all in their teams now, but a few of the weaker ones swapped their vests, I’ve got to hand it to you this game is even more diabolical than the last.” He chuckled, lifting a cocktail to his lips and taking a sip.

“I aim to please,” the Masked Leader said plainly.

“Looks like they’re going in,” a lady in a shiny jaguar mask called out. “My money’s on player 320, he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty!”

“Oh come on, we all know who we are most excited to see!” The man in the bull mask replied.

He paused looking at the screen, you came into view, running into the maze, your hand intertwined with Felix’s.

“Her.”

Chapter 15 - Coming Soon!

DISCLAIMER - I do not own the rights to stray kids, they are used in this fic as inspiration for fictional characters. Their behaviour in this doesn’t depict who they are in real life. I do not own the images in the banner nor the dividers.

TAGLIST - @eridanuswave @astro-des @ot8girlfie @fairylix @estellan0vella @nightmarenyxx @missygore @mysterysold @chloe-elise-2000 @minhosglasses @akindaflora @minniesverse @hoes4minho @hhwangsmoon @riri53 @stayd3lulu @yaorzu-blog @aquamarine001

OPEN

[hwangjoanna]

Teasers for upcoming fics - Vote what you’d like to read first!

Thank you for all being so patient with me! Here are some stories in the works for release later this year! Please vote for what you’d like me to release first!

'Only Lovers Left Alive.'

Hyunlix | Vampire AU | 18+ mdni | Hard Dom/Hyunjin X Sub/Reader X Soft Dom/Felix | Slow Burn | Dark Romance I Obsession | Possessive Behaviour | Mutual Pining | Love | Smut | Horror | Violence | Gore | Dark Themes.

Mini Series loosely based on the film 'Only lovers left alive?'

When Y/N moves to a quiet city for a fresh start and new job opportunity, she visits an old record shop tucked between forgotten streets and timeworn brick. There she meets Felix - charming, playful, disarming and Hyunjin, his silent tortured artist, brooding counterpart. She's intrigued by the mystery of them, by their strange hours, their intensity, the way they seem to orbit each other like something ancient and unfinished. There's something about them, something inhuman. Secrets and a hunger they've long tried to control and Y/N? She's more than just temptation. She's the breaking point neither of them saw coming.

‘Let The Devil In’

Church School AU | 18+ mdni | Priest’s Son/Hyunjin X Nun in Training/Reader | Enemies to Lovers | Slow Burn | Angst | Devotion | Sacrilege | Smut | Religious Themes | Religious Horror | Gore | Dark Romance | Obsession.

Mini-Series

When y/n transfers to the prestigious Saint Augustine’s boarding school, she expects scripture and solitude, not Hwang Hyunjin. He’s the headmaster’s son, refined, beautiful, and cruel. A choirboy, who looks at her like he’s already damned. They clash. They burn. He calls her ‘little lamb’ and warns her to stay away but he follows her like a shadow and watches her like a prayer. When the chapel doors close, his hands feel anything but holy. Saint Augustine’s is a place of secrets with locked doors, murmured rituals and things that don’t sleep beneath the floorboards. Hyunjin says she’s temptation incarnate. He says she’s leading him to ruin but the deeper they fall, the clearer it becomes that all hell is about to break loose.

‘H-9JIN’

Cyberpunk Dystopian AU | 18+ mdni | Pleasure Android/Hyunjin X Hacker/Reader | Dom/Sub Dynamics | Enemies to Lovers | Reader is a brat | Slow Burn | Smut | Love | Angst | Forbidden Desire

Mini-Series

In a decaying city pulsing with neon and corruption, outlawed androids are dismantled without question. Especially ones like Model H-9JIN, a pleasure unit so sentient, so dangerously aware, he had to be shut down. When Minho tells Y/N the story, she laughs it off, but when she finds him in a tech graveyard whilst hunting for scraps she makes the mistake of taking him home. She robots him, wipes his memory. Reinforces his obedience code. Keeps him a secret but he’s not as blank as he should be and he flirts constantly. She rolls her eyes, tells him to shut up but he learns her faster than any man ever has and underneath the teasing is something deeper. Something dangerous, a need to love.

‘Dial Me, Write Me.’

Phone Sex Operator AU | Modern AU | 18+ mdni | Phone Sex Operator/Hyunjin X Writer/Reader | Anonymity | Voice Kink | Soft Angst | Romantic | Filthy | Smut | Slow-Burnish | Dom/Sub Dynamics.

One Shot

When Y/N needs inspiration for her new erotic novel, her friend Changbin jokes that she should call a sex line just once, for research. She doesn’t expect to like it. She definitely doesn’t expect to keep calling and she never expects to fall for the voice on the other end but “Jin” knows just what to say. Though she doesn’t know his face or his real name, he’s already written into every chapter.

PERMANENT TAGLIST - @fairylix @hoes4minho @lilileen25 @akindaflora @tirena1 @stayjinnie @jehhskz @alittlebitofeverything04 @chloe-elise-2000 @estellan0vella @yaorzu-blog

TAGLIST OPEN!

[hwangjoanna]

'Stray Things.'

Dom/Hyunjin X Sub/Reader | Demon/Devil AU | 18+ MDNI | Strangers to Lovers? | Dark Romance | Angst | Love | Possessive Behaviour | Smut | Thriller | Horror | Gore | Supernatural

Mini-Series loosely based on Stephen King's Novel 'Needful Things.'

When Y/N is walking home from a work night out, the last thing she expected was to be drawn into the orbit of a mysterious antique shop and its even more enigmatic owner, Hyunjin. With hypnotic charm and a knowing smile. Stray Things, a quaint little store that seems to offer the perfect item for everyone who steps inside... for a price. Y/N is skeptical until she finds something on his shelves from her past. As her connection with Hyunjin deepens, so too does the darkness spreading through the town. Neighbors turn on each other. Secrets are unearthed. Whispers of bargains and debts begin to circulate. Caught between the pull of a man who knows her heart's deepest longing and the growing realization that not everything is as it seems, she must decide: how much is she willing to pay for what she truly desires?

Warnings - MDNI 18+, Angst, Swearing, Gore, Horror, Graphic depictions of blood, Mentions of Death, Nightmares, Sleep Paralysis, Supernatural Elements, Smut, Astral Oral Sex f.receiving, Fingering and Possessive behaviour.

A/N - I’m sorry that I’ve taken a break from writing ‘Red Light, Green Light,’ to start writing my new series but I only want to release content I’m proud of so please wait a little longer and enjoy the first chapter of my series. I really hope you like it, as always the taglist is open and I would love you to comment your thoughts! Likes and Reblogs welcome!

Word Count- 11.2K

Chapter 1

The ground beneath your feet was hard and wet from the April showers. Your knee-high boots were splashing in the shallow puddles that cover the streets in the small town you call home. Your black mini dress swayed in the icy winds, and the dark trench coat tied loosely around your waist did little to shield you from the downpour.

Your hair was soaked and the rainwater cascaded down your flushed cheeks. Your make-up probably looked a mess but that was no matter as you had just finished being social with some of your work colleagues at the local bar.

It was almost 10 blocks before you would return to your apartment. The rain was beginning to fall harder and the wind picked up. You mentally cursed at yourself for not bringing an umbrella with you, maybe you could grab one from a store on your way back to your place. It was late, and there probably wouldn’t be anywhere open around this time apart from the local convenience stores.

As you rounded the corner you noticed a dim light coming from a shop you had never noticed before. This being your route home every day for the last few years, you found it surprising.

It was as if your feet moved on their own, like an unseen force was pulling you towards it. When you arrived at the storefront you looked it over.

‘Stray Things’ you read. You cast your eyes down, the sign on the door stating that it was indeed open. You hesitated for a moment, but the pull felt even stronger like you were a magnet and the shop itself was your true north.

With that, you pushed the door open and tentatively stepped inside.

The bell above the door didn’t jingle so much as sigh.

You stepped inside and were instantly wrapped in a warm, amber light. The air smelled like old paper and burnt wood, like something forgotten but familiar. Shelves lined the walls, packed with objects that didn’t seem to belong together: an antique mirror, a velvet ribbon, a cracked porcelain doll, a cassette tape with no label.

You had no idea what kind of store it was but something about it tugged at you.

As you strolled aimlessly through the corridors of curious items, you heard someone speak in a silky hushed tone.

“You found me.”

The voice came from the back. You continued on your way to the end of the cluttered aisle and then he appeared.

He was tall, wrapped in a dark blazer, with black wavy hair that kissed his shoulders. His honeyed skin almost shimmered in the dim light, like the moon reflecting off water. Plump berry-toned lips pulled into a small smirk. He looked more like a ghost than a shopkeeper, more like a dream than a man.

“Sorry,” you said, trying not to stare. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just… saw the door open.”

He tilted his head, smiling in that way people do when they know more than they should.

“No one comes in by accident,” he said. “Not here.”

You hummed, not understanding what he meant. You glanced around the room before turning back to him, realising his eyes had never left your form. He looked almost amused.

“I was looking to buy an umbrella,” you stated. Hoping you could get this transaction over with. His presence made you feel, different, like you had seen a friend after a prolonged period of time. It was like there was an invisible string that tethered you together. You shook your head at the ridiculous thought.

He observed you for a moment before turning as he spoke, “Oh yes, you poor thing. You’re soaked, let me see what I can find.” With that he moved away, lithe like a dancer who floated on air. He disappeared from view and you continued to look around. Your eyes drawn to a cabinet full of small trinkets.

Then you saw it.

Your breath caught.

An oval locket with an intricate design embedded into the silver. It hung off a thin Figaro chain.

You hadn’t seen it in half a decade. Not since your mother had passed. You had asked to collect it from the embalmer at the hospital morgue but they informed you it wasn’t on your mother’s cadaver when she was brought to them. You assumed it had been stolen by a nurse at the hospital.

It can’t be the same one?

Whilst you stood there dumbfounded, your blood began to run cold. Goosebumps trailed down your spine and you felt you were no longer alone.

“You wear longing like perfume,” the shopkeeper’s voice rang softly against your neck.

You turned so quickly in fright that you almost broke your neck in the process.

He was standing close to you, closer than a stranger should be.

Your brain was moving a hundred miles an hour trying to catch up, he scared you and yet you felt comforted by his presence. The logical part of your mind was telling you to get the fuck out of there but your body was screaming to stay.

The last string of your sanity won out. “I- I have to go,” you whispered shakily. Backing away from the beautiful man towards the door.

He stepped towards you slowly, following your path to the exit. He moved like he was in no rush. “What about the umbrella?” He asked holding it up to you as if it weighed nothing.

“I- I don’t need it, thank you.” You fumbled over your words, trying not to sound rude.

Then you ran.

You ran all the way back to your apartment. Your thoughts consumed by the beautiful man and the silver locket.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

The next day felt heavy, like the air had become thicker. As you placed new novels on the shelf in the bookstore you worked at. The hours ticked by slowly like the clock was running out of battery. You fulfilled customers' requests in your zombie-like state. You couldn’t focus on anything but that shop. Your mind clouded by curiosity.

You finished your shift for the day, waving goodbyes to your colleagues.

Following the same path back to your apartment. You had to check, didn’t you? You had to know for sure that it was your mother’s locket.

The nerves filled your stomach as you neared the street of the store. Sure enough there it stood. ‘Stray Things.’ You hadn’t imagined it.

It’s gravitational pull, enticing you in once more.

The bell above the door chimed, softly and delicately, almost like a warning disguised as a lullaby.

You stepped into the shop. That smell again, warm leather, ancient paper, something sweet and rotting beneath it all, like overripe fruit in the sun. The place always seemed darker than it should be, like the shadows didn’t care about the rules of light.

He was already watching you.

The shopkeeper stood behind the counter, wearing a black silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins beneath his pale skin. His lips curled when he saw you, like he knew you’d come. Like he’d been waiting.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he said softly.

You paused for a moment before stepping towards the counter.

“Where did you get it?” You questioned wanting to get straight to the point. You didn’t want to be here longer than necessary. At least that’s what the rational part of your brain said to you. The dark corners of your mind felt like they were drowning in longing. For what, you weren’t sure of.

The dark haired man smiled. Slowly and knowing. Almost tenderly.

His eyes glance at the cabinet before falling back onto you.

“I’ve always had it,” he said. “I’ve been waiting to give it back to you.”

Your feet take you to where the locket was sitting pretty, like it was teasing you. “May I have a look at it?” You pleaded. Your eyes glassy with tears yet to fall.

His hand was suddenly reaching over you, his body looming, almost pressed against your back but not making contact. The small key unlocked the cabinet and his long gentle fingers grasped the locket like it were made of glass. He made his way back to the counter laying a crimson piece of velvet down before letting the locket sit on top.

You didn’t reach for the necklace.

Your fingers hovered above it, trembling, like touching it would make everything inside you break open.

He snapped you out of your thoughts as he spoke causing you to meet his gaze. “I’m Hyunjin by the way,” he offered. Perhaps out of politeness but somehow it felt like he needed you to know. Like he wanted to push the connection between you further.

“Y/n,” you offered back. His dark irises were burning with something you couldn’t place.

“Y/n,” Hyunjin repeated it back to you like it was the key to his entire existence. Like he wanted to know how it tasted on his tongue.

“How did you get this?” you asked again, quieter now.

Hyunjin didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped around the counter, walking toward you with a kind of stillness that didn’t belong in this world. Like the air itself parted for him.

He stopped just close enough for you to notice the scent on his shirt, vanilla and patchouli with a hint of black musk. Something like decay, but beautiful.

“You miss things,” he said softly. Taking another step towards you. “That ache in your chest, you carry it everywhere. Like a song stuck behind your teeth.”

You looked up at him, your expression confused. “Do you… know me?”

“I know what you want.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “What you need.” Hyunjin was in your personal space now, his soft breath tickling your cheeks. The locket glinted between you.

“Take it,” he dared you. “It’s yours. No charge.”

You hesitated. Fighting an eye roll. “There’s always a price.”

That smile again, like he was pleased you weren’t completely naïve. “Just a small favour,” he spoke silkily. “Someday.” His eyes flickered down to your lips, so quickly that if you blinked you would have missed it.

You should have left. You knew that but your hand moved anyway, your fingers curled around the cool metal. The moment you touched it, something inside you shifted, like a string had been plucked, somewhere deep inside you.

You felt his gaze settle on you, not possessive, not lustful, but reverent. Like he’d waited a long time to see you like this. “May I?” Hyunjin asked, offering his hand. You nodded turning away from him and pulled your hair to the side to give him better access to your delicate neck. He pulled the cold chain around your throat, sending sparks down to your core and clicked the clasp shut and yet, he still hadn’t touched you. His hands ghosted over your skin but never once made contact. The ache inside you reeling.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

That night sleep eluded you. You tossed and turned in your deep scarlet Egyptian cotton sheets, and the locket sat on your nightstand reflecting the moonlight that trickled through the curtains.

You stared at it for what felt like hours but when you checked the old clock on your wall it had only been 12 minutes since you last checked. Your gut was twisting, like there was a creature inside you that was changing your DNA. The anxiety made sleep even harder to obtain.

You sat against your fluffy pillows and picked up the locket. It felt different, maybe it was just the fact that your mother was no longer in this world. The locket lay in your palm, cool against your skin. Inside was a photo you hadn’t seen in years, your dear mum, young and laughing, holding you as a baby, her cheeks flushed with joy. The opposite side held a lock of hair. Real, fragile and preserved.

Hyunjin had given it to you wrapped in the red velvet cloth, like it was a sacred object. To you it was.

You placed the necklace back on the nightstand and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. As you opened your fridge a shadow loomed over you but as soon as you turned on your heel it was gone. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your breath struggled to fill your lungs. You placed your hand over your heart in exasperation. Excusing the phenomenon as a trick of the light.

You poured the bottled water into the cup and scurried back to bed. Shifting into the duvet, unable to close your eyes for more than a moment without feeling it, the pull.

Your body ached to go running back to the shop. To Him.

The weight of it crushing you.

It wasn’t just a keepsake. The locket, felt like something else, like it was alive.

The shadows in your room moved differently tonight. They stretched longer than they should have. The corner near the door darkened unnaturally, even with the hallway light slipping in beneath the frame.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling.

Then you heard it…a faint voice. Barely a whisper but it was there.

“Y/n…” Your breath hitched.

You sat up slowly, scanning the room. Nothing moved. The locket gleamed softly, shifting slightly as if it had just been touched. The metal scraped against the wood of your nightstand.

A voice again, curling around the edge of your thoughts like a secret.

“Come back to me.”

It sounded like Hyunjin. It felt like Hyunjin. The kind of voice that didn’t need to be loud to be heard.

You stood, your heart pounding. Your feet found the floor without thinking. You walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside.

Down the street, under the glow of a faint street light. A shadow stood, it looked as if it was facing you.

“Come back to me,” the voice repeated, inside your head. The locket on the nightstand clicked softly. You turned toward it, and it had opened on its own. Inside, the photo caught your eye.

Your mother was still there. The photo inside was still to same but now, she wasn’t smiling.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

The next day you were exhausted. There was a light mist covering the town’s streets, the skies were gloomy. At work, you were organising some shelves when your boss, Chan, approached you. A smile plastered on his face, his dimples on full display. His dark hair tousled in a way that looked effortless.

“Hey, bookworm,” he greeted you as he always did. Chan had known you since you were both kids, you were a little quiet, your nose always in a book. He was more adventurous, charming but still an absolute nerd. You became good friends and when you graduated a year after him he offered you a job at his family's bookstore knowing how much you’d enjoy it. You had a feeling it was also because he felt the need to look after you.

You glanced up at him, mirroring his smile but he noticed it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Everything okay?” He asked, his smile dropping slightly.

“I’m fine,” you responded in a mumble. You would usually confide in him over anything, he supported you through your mother’s death and when your father abruptly moved away not long after. But this? There’s no way you could speak to him about the shop, about Hyunjin.

“You sure?” He tried to coax a genuine answer out of you, knowing you like the back of his hand, he could tell you were not being honest with him. You met his eyes and his breath caught slightly.

“Y/n you look tired, has something happened?” He questioned again, he knew you always came to work with a glow about you, smiling and happy to be there. But since the night you had been out for drinks, he had noticed a slight change in your demeanour.

You looked back at the books not sure what to say, but he didn’t leave. He just stood patiently waiting for your response. He leaned against the bookshelves and crossed his arms like he did whenever you were being stubborn.

“My insomnia is back,” you stated with no need to elaborate.

When your mother passed you had suffered sleepless nights for months, you’d either have nightmares, lucid dreams, at times sleep paralysis but most of all you’d lie there getting all but maybe an hour or 2 every night.

Chan had the same insomnia but he had had it since he was a teenager and he’d almost learnt to live with it. Chan would text you or call you at late hours during that time to comfort you, he made sure you didn’t feel alone. He was such an angel, still is.

“Oh, my little bookworm,” he pulled you in for a quick hug and squeezed your shoulder in a gentle grip. “I think you should take the rest of the day off,” He suggested with kind eyes.

You shook your head, “No, I’m fine honestly.”

“You’re not fine, y/n.” He said mirroring your actions. “As your boss and your friend, I’m sending you home.” He smiled again before whispering, “paid of course.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, placing a book on the shelf.

“I know I don’t,” he interjected before you could continue. “I want to and I’m telling you to,” he looked at you sternly but with a gentle gaze.

“I guess that’s what’s best,” you conceded.

“You know it is, bookworm.” His smile grew across his features. “Now, get out of here,” he said with a tilt of his head. “I’ll see you Monday,” with that he patted your arm and walked away.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

The mist in the air had settled slightly as you made your way back to your apartment sluggishly. Thank god Chan had been so kind and sent you home, you felt awful. Your shoulders sagged, your eyelids were heavy and your head was cloudy.

As you walked past your local florist stand you noticed something odd. The lantern that lit up the display was barely emitting any light as opposed to the usual glow you’d be able to notice 2 blocks away. Taemin the shopkeeper was nowhere to be seen, on a regular day he’d be out front, greeting you warmly as he always did. Weird? You thought as you crossed the street.

As you neared the corner where ‘Stray Things’ sat on the street, you felt a chill run down your spine.

Then that voice again, his voice. “Come back to me.”

You stop dead in your tracks, trying to process the words. Maybe it was best to visit the store now? It wouldn’t be so bad in the daytime, right? You needed to figure out what was happening. Why were you hearing his voice? Were you just tired or was there something else going on?

You began to make your way there, then you felt it. The pull again, like an unseen force was pushing you from behind towards the shop.

You walked through the door hastily, like you missed being there. Like you were desperate to breathe it in.

When you entered, one of your neighbours from your apartment block, whose name escaped you, was there at the counter speaking in whispers to Hyunjin. Not so much as a glance in your direction, just voices weaving through the air, untouched by your arrival.

As you stepped further into the shop Hyunjin patted the man’s shoulder and your neighbour rushed out the door knocking you slightly as he did so, no apology, no recognition of your existence.

You steadied yourself staring at the door, mouth agape in shock.

“If it’s isn’t my little trinket,” you jumped out of your skin at the sudden sound. Hyunjin’s voice rang in a what sounded like a scream and whisper all at once, as if he were right next to you. His breath sweeps your hair slightly but when you turned to look at him he was still standing by the counter, nonchalantly looking through some papers.

A moment of silence passed with you planted on the spot when he spoke again. “Third time's a charm, hmm,” Hyunjin said still not looking at you, his hands moving elegantly against the parchment. Eyes down but a knowing smile on his beautiful plump lips.

Or a curse. You thought to yourself as you willed yourself to step closer. Exhaustion still seeping into your veins.

Once you got to the counter, you leaned on it lazily.

“So tell me, are you here for something you need?” His voice dipped into a dangerous tone. “Or something you know you shouldn’t want?” The shopkeeper said as his dark eyes finally met yours, his smirk still there laced with a teasing tilt of his head.

“You know why I’m here,” you said in a biting tone.

Hyunjin chuckled to himself as he strolled around the counter slowly, his finger running along the edge of the desk as he stepped in front of you. He moved closer, every step deliberate and predatory. The gleam in his eyes wasn’t just recognition, it was hunger.

“I have a favour to ask of you, my little trinket,” you blushed from the nickname. His words, his smell, his everything flooded your senses like you were drowning in him.

“What do you want?” You asked in a small voice.

That’s when he touched you. Finally.

He brought his hand around the bottom of your throat. Not squeezing, just resting against your trembling skin. He sighed through his nose as if he were trying to control himself.

“I have an envelope I want you to deliver for me,” he said as his thumb gently caressed your neck.

Then his voice dropped lower and his eyes darkened. “You are not to open it, you will post it to apartment 13, on the block you live on.” Your neighbour’s, the man who had just walked out. Wait, how did he know where you lived?

“If you’re a good girl, you will be rewarded.” He said whilst taking another step towards you. Your chests now barely a centimetre apart.

You nodded in understanding but that wasn’t enough for him.

“Do we have a deal?” His voice was dripping in a mix of venom and honey. His smile grew to a maniacal grin, his perfect teeth on display.

“Yes, Hyunjin,” you said softly looking up at him through your lashes.

With one final swipe of his thumb, he unhanded you and picked up a rose coloured envelope sealed with a wax stamp and held it towards you.

You eyed the envelope before reaching for it but as your fingers grazed its edge he pulled it away.

“Don’t disappoint me, sweetheart, curiosity killed the cat.” He warned as he gave you the envelope.

𓆩���𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

As you reached your apartment block, your hands slipped around the smooth paper of the envelope. Inspecting it, flipping it over in your fingers as if it would give you the answers to all the questions that were circling in your tired brain.

You wanted to open it, you wanted to know why your neighbour had run off in a frenzy and why Hyunjin needed to send him a letter instead of waiting for him at the shop? Why could you hear Hyunjin’s voice in the dead of night?

‘Curiosity killed the cat.’

His words came back to you as you began to walk the stairs to number 13, every step feeling like you were climbing Mount Everest. The exhaustion from your sleepless night, the weight of the envelope in your hand.

When you reached your neighbour's door, you heard what sounded like a hundred different voices whispering over the top of each other in a language you didn’t understand.

When you lifted the letterbox to place the envelope inside, the room beyond the door went deathly silent. Like all the people behind the entryway simply just disappeared. You pushed in the envelope quickly and rushed to your apartment.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

“Come back to me, my little trinket.”

You were inside the shop kneeling in front of a man in black trousers and leather shoes. Smoke filled your lungs, you were choking, your breath shallow.

“Look at me.” His voice was like a soft trap, warm and unwelcome.

You raise your head slowly, to meet Hyunjin’s gaze. His eyes glowing with desire, pupils blown out, his irises dark chocolate.

“Such an obedient soul, my favourite little pet.” His features were perfect as always, skin like silk, his bitten plush lips pulled into a smirk.

He crouches down to you in a squat and takes your chin in his long fingers. His touch brings life to you, your lungs fill with oxygen and you sigh out of relief. “I’ve touched you now, surrender to me.” You shake your head at his words, tears start to roll down your cheeks and you pull yourself away from his grasp. “I’ll be waiting, my little trinket. My sweet girl.”

“Please.” You beg but you’re not sure what for.

“You’re mine now, there’s already blood on your hands.” He chuckles grimly.

You look down and sure enough, there’s crimson thick liquid dripping down your palms. Sticky and wet, the smell of iron invades your senses. Your breath hitches and you cry louder. You’re shaking.

Hyunjin grasps your wrist in a possessive grip and pulls your dainty fingers to his lips. He sensually smears the blood around his mouth while his eyes roll back in delight. He pokes out his tongue and licks a long stripe from your wrist to the tip of your finger before kissing it.

You wake up suddenly, panting, dripping in sweat and your cunt is slick with arousal. As you come out of the nightmare you hear him whisper-

“You’ve always belonged to me.”

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

When you finally wake up your head feels cloudy, almost like it doesn’t belong to you.

You get out of bed and glance at the pretty locket still sitting on the nightstand. The sunlight is peaking through the curtains bringing warmth into your room.

The nightmare from last night is still fresh in your mind. Only its echo clung to your skin, the heavy kind of silence that follows a scream but the room was quiet, the sheets cool, your limbs not trembling for the first time in what felt like days. You felt… better. Rested even and that in itself was unsettling.

There was something off? Not wrong, but strange. Like the thoughts moving through your mind weren’t being guided by the usual, familiar hand. You blinked at the wall for a long moment, trying to shake the sensation. It didn’t go.

The heaviness from the day before had lifted. The weight of the favour, done. The tether to Hyunjin, at least for now, felt looser… though never quite gone.

You slid off the bed with a groggy grace and padded toward the kitchen, rubbing your eyes as you did so. The fridge door hummed as you opened it, cool air spilling out against your skin. You grabbed a water, twisted the cap off with a satisfying crack, and took a long sip.

The silence in the apartment was deep, but not empty. It was as though something had just been here, something that had stepped out right before you woke.

When you returned to the bedroom, your gaze fell immediately to the nightstand. The locket was there, exactly where you’d left it. You’d planned to take a closer look at it this morning but now, beside it, sat something else.

A small, elegant bottle of perfume.

Your heart skipped a beat. That had not been there when you left the room. You were sure of it. You were awake when you left the bed.

You picked it up slowly, your eyes scanning for a label but there wasn’t one. Just a dark, smoky glass and a gold-toned cap, textured beneath your fingers. You uncapped it and brought it to your nose.

The scent hit you in waves.

Hyunjin.

But not only Hyunjin.

It had the same base note as his, the deep, black musk that clung to his clothes and followed him like a shadow but this was softer. Slightly sweeter than the vanilla of his scent. Almost floral beneath the smoke and spice. Feminine. Designed maybe for you?

You stood still for a moment, staring at the bottle and the locket as if they were puzzles you couldn’t quite solve. The air felt thick, heavy with something you couldn’t name, and that strange, foreign feeling in your mind lingered. It was as though the room itself was a reflection, but not one you recognised. The mirror was distorted.

Without thinking, slowly and almost automatically, you brought the bottle to your neck, just under your ear. Spraying a small amount before repeating the process on the other side of your neck. The scent was intoxicating, so close to his but unmistakably your own in its softness.

It was like a whispered promise, a secret between the two of you, even if you hadn’t asked for it.

As the perfume settled into your skin, you felt a sudden wave of dizziness, like the world around you was tilting. You caught yourself against the edge of the nightstand. The dizziness wasn’t physical, not exactly. It was like the perfume had unlocked something inside you, something you didn’t want to face yet.

You shook your head, trying to steady yourself. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the nightmare. Maybe it was the way your pulse had quickened, how it seemed to mirror something deeper you couldn’t name but there was something wrong about all of it.

Why did Hyunjin think you’d want this? Why did he think you needed this?

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the bedroom mirror, a hazy figure dressed in nothing more than an old t-shirt and a confused expression. The scent clung to you now, blending with your own. It was like it had always been part of you.

When you looked back at the nightstand, the two items, the locket and perfume, had shifted, somehow, in your mind’s eye. They didn’t feel like things anymore. They felt like promises. Unspoken ones. Like they were tied to a fate you couldn’t avoid.

That was when you heard it, the softest creak of a floorboard.

Your pulse spiked, and you froze, your eyes darted toward the door but it was just the wind. Wasn’t it?

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

When you left your apartment, you told yourself you were just going for a walk. To clear your head, you needed some fresh air. You needed to surround yourself with people so you didn’t feel the lingering of your nightmare, it was as if it had left a lasting blooded handprint on your walls and no matter how hard you tried to scrub it away, it wouldn’t go.

As you went to pass apartment 13, on your way down the echoey staircase, you noticed the door to the apartment wide open.

Slowly you tiptoed past the room, gazing in as you did so.

What you saw made you regret not just walking past as you should have.

Your neighbour.

He was standing stiff and upright, and facing the wall. Whispering to, well no one? The envelope you had posted through the door the evening prior was scrunched into his fist.

Your breath hitched and you quickened your pace. Running down the stairs, your lungs begging for oxygen.

As you stepped outside, the air hit you and you took a long inhale. You sighed and started heading towards the local park, hoping for some peace or perhaps a friendly chat with someone from your town.

Just something, anything, to take your mind away. Even for just a moment.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

After a few laps around the park, you headed towards your local coffee shop. Waving to a few townspeople on your way.

As you stepped in, the rich smell of cinnamon and coffee grounds rushed into your senses, and you were already starting to feel better. You approached the counter and a young barista handed you a drink, your usual order? Though you hadn’t seen her in here before.

“I didn’t order this,” you said politely with a small smile. “How did you know my order?” You questioned, trying not to come across as ungrateful.

“He told me to get it for you,” she said, pointing behind you to a table.

You followed her line of sight but there was no one there. You turned back to your coffee as the barista walked away, making an order for another customer. When you picked up the coffee you saw there was a note scribbled into the side of the takeaway cup, ‘come back to me.’

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

Your legs weren’t moving on their own this time, they moved with purpose. You would go back to him, but on your terms. You needed answers, you needed to find out what the fuck was happening. The nightmare, the favour, the weird shit happening all over town. You were sick of feeling like a pawn in his game.

It was barely evening, the sky outside the shop a dusky grey, but the air felt denser and warmer somehow. You approached the shop and shoved the door open to announce your arrival. You stepped over the threshold, the little bell above the door gave its usual delicate chime, but the sound felt sharper tonight. More alert.

He was already there, behind the counter, unbothered by your arrival, as if he’d known you’d come. The confidence you had moments ago melted away in an instant.

Hyunjin didn’t look up right away. He was polishing a fragment of glass, turning it slowly between his fingers, his gaze following its sharp edge like it whispered secrets.

“You came back,” he said after a moment. His voice had that velvety stillness to it that made your pulse stutter.

You hovered near the doorway with your arms crossed, not quite ready to step in further yet. “I had a dream,” you said, keeping your voice measured. “About you.”

That got his attention.

He lifted his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Did you?” he murmured, setting the glass down with careful concentration. “Was it a nightmare… or something else?”

You didn’t answer, you weren’t sure you knew the answer. All you remembered was the feeling, the smoke in your throat, the warmth of the blood on your hands, his wet tongue gliding over your skin. Mainly the taste of fear blooming into something else before you woke.

“You told me I owed you a favour,” you said avoiding the question. “I did it. So tell me what this is, what this shop is. What you are.”

He rounded the counter slowly, almost too slowly, like he was savouring the space between you both shrinking as he did. “You came here for answers,” he said, voice low. “But the questions you should be asking, are about yourself.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?” You said.

Hyunjin only tilted his head slightly, as though he were studying you. His gaze dropped briefly to your collarbone, then traced along the line of your neck. A glimmer of amusement or something darker flashed in his eyes.

“You wore it,” he said softly.

“Wore what?” You asked, taken aback by his change in conversation.

“The perfume.” He said, gently.

You froze, “I didn’t say I-”

“You didn’t have to.” He interrupted and took another step closer, the scent curling between you like a secret made flesh. “It’s mine. I’d know it on you anywhere, my little trinket.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

He leaned in, just enough to draw your breath. “That’s the thing about surrendering,” he whispered. “It starts with the smallest thing. A favour, a bottle, a scent.” He leaned forward taking you in through his nostrils. His jaw clenched like his patience was hanging by a thread. “You think it means nothing, but I know better.” He smirked.

“I didn’t say I accepted it,” you said, barely above a whisper. You felt so small under his gaze.

“You didn’t need to say it,” he murmured. “You sprayed it on your skin. Let it sink into you. You’ve already let me in.”

His aura was intimidating and intoxicating at the same time. Like your favourite cocktail that was laced with poison. Mentally you were at war with yourself, you wanted him near, you wanted him on you but at the same time, you knew it wasn’t a good idea. What would happen if you did let him in?

“Next time you dream of me,” he spoke again, “don’t fight it. That part of you already belongs to me.”

You stepped back slightly, enough to create the illusion of space. His presence still wrapped around you, your heart was beating faster now, but not from fear. At least not the kind you could make sense of.

“Don’t twist this into something it’s not,” you said, forcing strength into your voice. “It was just a perfume bottle.”

Hyunjin’s smile was faint but feral. “There’s no just with you. You walked in here again, you wore my gift. You even dreamt of me. That’s not a coincidence, it’s gravity.”

He was the one who had sent the perfume, he’s the one who’s been asking you to come back. He’s the one who somehow got into your dreams. Why did he make it sound like it was destiny?

You shook your head. “I came for clarity, not… whatever this is.” You said.

He chuckled, lowly and warm, like he was genuinely amused by your defiance. “Clarity is a lie people tell themselves to feel safe. You don’t want answers, my little trinket. You want to see how deep this goes. How far you’ll go.”

He stepped closer again. You didn’t move this time.

“You think you’re still choosing,” he said, his voice smooth. “But your body decided for you the second you pressed that perfume to your throat.”

“Stop it.” You begged.

“Why?” he whispered. “Because it’s true? Or because you’re scared of what it means?”

Something in your chest fluttered, rage or panic or desire, you couldn’t tell anymore.

“I’m not your puppet,” you snapped.

“No,” he agreed, almost lovingly. “You’re not. Puppets don’t tremble when they fight. They don’t crave the hands that control them.”

You flinched, because he was right, you had trembled. Not in fear but something worse.

“I won’t keep doing things for you,” you said, quieter now. “I’m not your errand girl.”

“Of course not,” Hyunjin replied gently. “But you’ll do more favours for me because part of you wants to. Because I’m the only one who sees you clearly enough to ask for them.”

You wanted to say no. You should have said no but the moment stretched and your silence said everything.

“What is it?” You asked finally, quietly.

Hyunjin’s eyes lit with something primal. Satisfaction, hunger, possession. He reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper, holding it between two fingers like an offering.

“There’s someone else I want you to visit,” he said. “Tell them you’re mine. They’ll know what to give you.”

You took the paper with unsteady fingers and his smile deepened.

“You see?” he said, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “You keep trying to pull away, but you always come back and every time you do…” His gaze dragged over you like a claim. “You give me more of you.”

You stared down at the paper in your trembling hand. Your fingers grazed the edge. It felt heavier than it should have, like it was pulsing with something unnamed, something dangerous.

Hyunjin didn’t speak. He just watched you, watched the war in your eyes, the subtle shake of your breath. The silence continued but it wasn’t empty. It was thick and charged, like the air before a storm.

When you finally looked up, his gaze was still on you. Fixed and consuming. He took another slow step closer.

“You don’t know me,” you said, but the conviction in your voice had wavered.

Hyunjin’s eyes flickered with something darker. Amusement, affection, hunger, all tangled into one. “I know parts of you buried beneath that beautiful face. The ones that ache to be seen. The ones that ache to be taken.”

He reached out again, this time not to touch you, but to hover, his hand brushing the air beside your cheek, never landing. His fingers curled slightly, resisting contact. It was maddening. You could tell he was controlling himself.

“Do you feel that?” he murmured, eyes dropping to your mouth. “The pull between us? The way the world gets quiet when you’re near me?”

Your lips parted to argue, but no sound came. You did feel it but you were not going to give in. You were not going to satisfy him with an answer.

Hyunjin leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. Not touching, never touching, just close enough to let the heat of him blur your thoughts. Your pulse roared in your ears.

“You smell like mine,” he whispered. “I want to claim you but not yet.“

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I like watching you unravel first.” He said with a maniacal grin.

You clenched your fists at your sides, needing something to ground you.

“I’m not yours,” you whispered. Were you lying to him or yourself?

He tilted his head, his smile slow and devastating. “You keep saying that.” He replied.

His hand finally moved, just a brush of his fingers against a strand of your hair, like he was memorising the texture of you. Then he stepped back, leaving a cold hollow where his heat had been.

“You’ll do the favour,” he said softly. “And when you come back…” His eyes glittered in the low light, sharp and certain. “You’ll stop pretending you don’t belong here with me.”

He turned and walked away, going deeper into the shop and disappearing behind a red velvet curtain with the sound of your heartbeat thundering in his wake.

You were left standing there, the slip of paper burning in your palm, your skin still singing from a touch that had never quite landed.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

The address he’d given you led to a weathered apartment complex on the edge of town, one of those forgotten places where curtains stayed closed and no one made eye contact in the halls.

You hesitated outside the unit’s door. You clutched the folded slip of paper Hyunjin had given you, even though you’d memorised the name hours ago. Your other hand hovered above the door. Your heart was pounding so hard. This wasn’t fear, it was apprehension. It was the feeling of stepping over a line you couldn’t uncross.

You knocked on the door rhythmically and waited. You heard footsteps approaching the door, and the owner of them sounded slow and reluctant.

The door creaked open just a sliver, revealing a man, he was middle-aged, he looked dishevelled and wary.

“Yeah?” He asked, he had dark bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in months.

You bit into your lip, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hyunjin sent me.”

The man froze and something changed in his eyes. He stepped back without a word and opened the door wider. The apartment was dim, cluttered, stale with smoke and something sour. You stepped in carefully.

“Wait here,” the man muttered, disappearing into the back room.

You didn’t sit, you didn’t move. You just stood in the half-light, trying to piece together what you were doing. Why did you feel the need to please Hyunjin and do as he asked?

The man returned with a box. It was small, wrapped in faded green paper with no markings. He placed it on the coffee table between you both like it might bite.

“I was told not to ask questions,” he muttered, eyes not meeting yours. “But… whatever this is, don’t open it.”

Your gaze averted to the box. “What’s inside?” You asked tentatively, although you weren’t sure if you wanted an answer.

The man gave a bitter little laugh. “You think he’d tell me?”

You picked it up. It was heavier than it looked.

“He said you’d come,” the man added. “Said you’d be… different.”

“What does that mean?” You questioned.

He took a swig from a beer bottle that sat on his coffee table, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re pretty,” he said suddenly. “Makes sense he’d send you. He likes breaking things that shine.”

You stiffened.

He waved a hand. “Not saying that to scare you. Just saying it because… well. It’s what he does.”

“I’m not broken,” she said quietly.

“Not yet.” He said, ominously.

You didn’t know what to say, you just sat there. The box almost vibrated in your hands. It had an energy to it.

Then the man spoke again, “You sure you want to do this?”

No. “Yes,” you lied.

Your fingers brushed the paper. It was warm. The weight of it settled in your arms like a secret too heavy to hold.

The man looked away. “Tell him I didn’t open it. I did what I was told. I kept my part.”

You moved toward the door, your heartbeat pulsing at your throat.

“I have a feeling he already knows, how long have you had it?” You asked curiously.

“Three months,” he said, head downward. “Three months exactly.”

You frowned. “Then why didn’t you deliver it?” You said.

The man gave a low, humourless laugh. “Because I��ve seen what happens to the ones who do. He asks for something small, something simple, and then you blink, and suddenly the world doesn’t make sense anymore.” He finally met your gaze. “Has it started for you yet?” He asked.

You tilted your head in confusion.

“The dreams? The noises when no one’s around? The way everything tastes a little too sweet… or bitter?” He said, whilst staring into nothing.

Your mouth went dry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” another lie.

He snorted. “You will.”

You looked down at the box again. “What’s in it?” You asked, your hands were shaking now.

He hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said. “But when I tried to burn it last week… it wouldn’t catch fire.”

A chill ran down your spine. “Why didn’t you give it back to him?” You said.

“I was going to.” He replied. “But I couldn’t bring myself to walk through those doors again. You know the shop changes shape, right? That it’s different every time?”

You stayed silent for a moment, you wanted to get the hell out of there and get back home. Then get rid of the fucking box as soon as you wake up.

“I better go,” you said not meeting the man’s gaze.

He rose to his feet, stepping forward and crowding you by the door. “He’ll give you something soon. Something beautiful. You’ll think you’re lucky but nothing from him comes without a chain around it.” He said, his tone eerie.

The perfume? You blinked for a moment in shock. Fuck, it was already on your skin.

Then he grabbed your wrist, like he was imploring you to hear him. “You still think you’re you. That you can walk away but I saw your eyes when you said his name. You’re already half-gone.”

With that, you snatched your hand away, walked out the door and left without another word.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

You shouldn’t have taken it home.

The moment you crossed your apartment’s threshold with the box in hand, something changed. You couldn’t explain it, nothing was wrong, exactly. The lights worked. The air was still. The silence was normal.

But it felt wrong.

You set the box on your kitchen counter and stood there for a moment, just staring at it. It didn’t move, didn’t hum and didn’t speak.

But it felt alive.

You tried to go through the motions of your evening. Dinner (untouched), a shower (rushed), your favourite show (muted background noise). But the whole time, the box called to you, not with words but with presence. Like someone watching you from behind a door. Like breath against the back of your neck when no one’s there.

You wrapped yourself in a blanket on the couch, with your phone in hand, heart pacing without reason.

Midnight passed. You got as cosy as you could in bed. The box is still sitting on the kitchen counter.

At 12:43, you finally drifted to sleep.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

You were in the shop again but it wasn’t the shop. The walls pulsed like a heartbeat. Shelves twisted upward like spines. Candles melted upward, their flames dancing in shards. Hyunjin was there, seated in an old damask wooden chair, his legs crossed, his eyes catching fire when he saw you.

“You brought it home,” he said lowly. Not angry, but delighted.

You tried to speak, but no sound came.

He rose and walked toward you, slowly, elegant and terrifyingly calm. He reached out, not for you but for something behind you. You turned following his gaze.

The box sat on the floor, unwrapped and open.

Inside, something writhed. Something alive.

You gasped…

You woke up in the dark, heart jackhammering against your ribs.

You looked at the clock, It was 3:07 am. The apartment was still but the box wasn’t where you’d left it. It now sat on your nightstand, next to the perfume and locket.

Still unopened.

You hadn’t left it there. Did you? You started to question whether you had or not.

You rose slowly, your bare feet pressing into the cold wood floor. Your mouth was dry and your skin felt too tight. You stared at the box and though it made no sound, no gesture…

You could feel it smiling.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

You woke to the smell of something sweet and faintly rotten. Like flowers left too long in stagnant water. You rolled over to look at the time, expecting the box to still be on your nightstand but it wasn’t.

You abruptly walked out of your bedroom, to find it was back in the kitchen.

You stared at it from the hallway, your heart was thudding under your nightshirt. There it sat, exactly where you’d left it the night before or thought you had. Or maybe you had moved it and just forgot, maybe the nightmare had blurred things?

Maybe Hyunjin… you didn’t finish the thought.

Instead, you walked into your bathroom and showered in silence, not trusting the steam that crept too high or the way your reflection seemed a second too slow in the mirror.

You got dressed, turned on the coffee machine and put some bread in your toaster.

Every few minutes, your eyes flicked toward the box.

It hadn’t moved again but it didn’t need to. Now it felt like it was in your head.

A low, vibrating hum of anxiety sat at the base of your skull. Words and thoughts got tangled. Your favourite coffee mug suddenly felt wrong in your hands, the handle oddly shaped. The kitchen clock ticked unevenly. Your toast, left forgotten and burnt. You kept hearing a second breath though you were alone in the room.

By the time you left the apartment, you were jumpy and pale with a tremor in your hands you couldn’t shake.

You had to get the box back to Hyunjin, not for him but to get it the fuck away from you.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

The clouds gathered low and thick above the town, swallowing the morning light in a dull haze. Your walk to the shop felt longer than usual, though you’d taken the same route so many times now. Every footstep echoed a little too loudly in your ears. Your limbs felt hollow and weighted like they were moving through syrup.

Just as you turned the corner and the sign of ‘Stray Things’ came into view, you saw a familiar figure.

Chan.

He stepped out of the shop, his head down and hood pulled up. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and his stride was slow and deliberate.

You froze on the spot. What was he doing in there? You hung back a little so he wouldn’t see you. Chan didn’t look up, he didn’t even seem to register the world around him. His expression was empty. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. Like he was walking in a dream. You watched him disappear down the street without a single glance back.

When you stepped inside the shop, the box was clutched to your chest.

Hyunjin was already waiting.

He sat on the same chair you saw him in during your dream or nightmare. As always he was draped in a black silk shirt that looked like it had been poured onto him. One leg crossed over the other, a book open but untouched in his lap.

He looked up slowly and smiled like he’d known the exact second you’d arrive.

“You carried it all the way here,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Even after last night.”

Your fingers tightened around the box. You stayed silent not sure what to say, so he knew? Hyunjin stood, gracefully, every movement a kind of performance. He stepped toward you, “I knew it would test you and I knew you’d pass.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your fear at bay. “What’s in it?” You asked.

“Something that needed to get to where it belongs,” he said. “That’s all you ever really need to know, sweetheart.”

You didn’t move, you were still holding the box of dread in your weak grip.

Hyunjin’s head tilted slightly. “You saw someone on the way here, didn’t you?” He asked as if he already knew the answer.

Your breath caught. “I-“ you stuttered.

“You smelled like recognition when you came in,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “Familiarity. The past.” He took another step closer to you. “Did he look the same to you? Or… less than?”

How did he know?

Hyunjin’s smile widened, but not cruelly his expression was full of something worse, fondness.

“You’re shedding your old skin,” he murmured. “That’s what this part feels like. Disorientation, Isolation, but it’s not pain, it’s transformation.”

Your arms dropped slightly. The box sagged in your grip.

Hyunjin reached out, his hand brushing yours as he took it from your grasp and when your fingers touched, it burned. Not from heat, but from a buzz that trickled down your spine right to your core. From something invisible and hungry between you. Hyunjin cradled the box against his chest like something sacred. “I’m proud of you, my little trinket,” he said quietly. “You let it into your home. You let me into your home.”

“I didn’t-” you began.

“You did.” He interrupted.

He stepped back with the box in hand, and trailed toward the back room behind the curtain but before he slipped away, he looked at you again his voice low and thick with promise, “Come back tomorrow.” He winked, and then he was gone.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

The night felt like it had come sooner than usual, which surprised you as it was approaching May. Usually, the days would feel longer, and you had a feeling Hyunjin had something to do with it. Though, you didn’t know for sure.

You had spent the rest of the day, walking aimlessly through the town. Not wanting to return to your apartment because it didn’t feel like yours anymore. Nothing did. It all felt like his, even the town felt like it no longer belonged to you.

At first, it was just strange hours, strange looks, things shifting places but now the changes run deeper and quieter, like something crawling just beneath the skin of it all.

You see people talking to themselves on the sidewalks. At least, you think they’re talking to themselves until you realised they were all murmuring in the same direction. Toward the shop with foggy eyes and their lips barely moving.

A man on the corner of 5th and Warren was sat on a bench with a photo in his hands. You glanced down and eyed the photo, it’s of his daughter, who died three years ago but in the photo, she looks older, alive and he’s smiling at it like she’s coming home any minute.

You didn’t ask him where he got it. You already knew.

A girl from your high school, someone who used to ignore you, who once laughed when you tripped in front of the whole class, stopped you on the street. Her eyes were wide. “You’re with him, aren’t you?” she had whispered.

“Who?” You asked.

She had grabbed your wrist. Her nails dug in, sharply. “Don’t trust what he gives you. Nothing’s free.” She warned. Then she pulled back and walked away without another glance.

Now your eyes were playing tricks on you, shadows danced in the low street light coming through the window. The perfume and locket rested on your nightstand with what felt like a buzz of energy or something else. Like they wanted to be noticed.

You try to fall asleep though you know you’ll most likely be plagued by another nightmare.

You read, scroll through your phone, and pace your room. Drink water, tea, or even wine. Anything to fall asleep.

In the stifling silence of your room, you lie in bed, the house is a tomb, and the only sound is the mournful ticking of a clock, counting down the seconds.

Then, you feel it, a creeping, insidious sense of dread, as if malevolent eyes are boring into the back of your skull. You try to dismiss it, but the sensation only grows stronger, more insistent.

Suddenly, a figure stirs in the deepest, darkest corner of your room, a menacing silhouette that seems to absorb what little light there is. Your heart hammers in your chest and you attempt to sit up, but your body doesn’t move. Almost as if you have sleep paralysis, yet you’re wide awake.

Your eyes are wide with terror and morbid curiosity.

The figure steps forward, and you recognise him.

It’s Hyunjin, his eyes burning into yours with a ferocity that makes you want to scream and weep all at once. You go to speak, to ask him if he’s real, to ask him why he’s here but you can’t, you can only let out a small shaky breath.

He doesn't respond in anyway, his gaze never wavering from yours. He takes another step forward, his form still cloaked in shadows, like a demon emerging from the pit. You can feel his presence, his obsession, like a noxious fog that chokes the life from your lungs. It's as if he's inside your head, his fingers probing at your darkest, most hidden thoughts.

He knows what you want.

‘You’re so pretty like this, my little trinket’ he was speaking to you but his lips weren’t moving. His eyes were just gazing over your form. ‘You’ve been so good for me, so obedient.’

You shuddered, your skin crawled beneath your thin T-shirt. You can feel the heat of his gaze, the intensity of his desire, like a physical blow. You feel naked, defiled, and utterly at his mercy. You want to run, to flee from this nightmare but you also don’t want to run at all, you want him, to feel him, to taste him.

"H-," you plead, your voice a desperate, broken cry that gets caught before you can say it.

He still doesn't speak at least not physically, his eyes flicking over you like you’re his prey. Like he wants to play with his food before he kills it.

He takes another step forward, his form now fully revealed by the moonlight. Blue-toned and icy, like how your body feels but then, you feel your body responding, betraying you, as your heart pounds in your chest and your breath comes in short, ragged gasps.

His touch, his gentle thumb caressing your jawline. Open-mouthed kisses on the sweet spot below your ear.

And yet, Hyunjin still hasn’t moved, how is he doing this? Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear his voice again. His lips are pulled into a smirk, not moving to speak as you hear him.

‘Surrender to me, sweetheart.’

You reach out a trembling hand, your fingers brushing against his but it drops back at your side paralysed once more. Like he allowed you a moment to ground yourself before he continued.

‘I know your deepest sins y/n, I know your wants, your needs.’

Hyunjin’s touch is like a jolt of electricity that sends shockwaves through your body. You cry out, your eyes widening as you feel his presence invade you, his obsession like a poison that courses through your veins and yet, it’s welcome. It’s so intoxicating, you want him to touch you more. You need him too.

You can feel his hands on you, even though he's not touching you. You can feel his lips on your skin, his breath against your cheek, you can feel his fingers run down your neck and reach your clothed nipple. It’s tender and sensitive to his ghostly touch. They press against the fabric of your t-shirt and then it starts to come over you, pleasure building slowly in your core. You feel his tongue pressing against your nipple, it flicks now and then, causing the tingling to continue in your stomach.

He speaks again in your mind, ‘you like that don’t you, my sweet little trinket.’ You can see his hardness growing in his pants, the bulge so impressive that your eyes start to water, your tears fall freely against your flushed cheeks.

You choke a moan and his eyes roll back slightly. So fast you’d miss it if you blinked. He’s utterly in control, building your body's arousal slowly. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he loves it.

You can feel his desire, his need, his hunger, like a physical force that presses down on you, crushing the life from your body. It’s so overwhelming and you don’t want it to stop.

‘More baby?’ You hear an echoed chuckle. ‘Say my name and I’ll give it to you.’

“H-Hyu-“ your voice still feels broken like someone has their palm over your throat.

You felt him push up your T-shirt. All whilst he was standing there, hands by his side, unwavering. Just enough for your glistening cunt to be on full display for him. You could move again slightly, so on your own, you forced your knees apart.

His eyes darkened, his lips parted slightly in concentration. You felt a wet muscle against your neglected clit, two fingers being slowly curled into your soaked hole.

The unseen fingers and mouth worked in tandem as your pussy clenches around his fingers that were still by his sides.

You watched as Hyunjin licked his lips in delight.

‘Do you understand the violence it took to be this gentle?’

Your pussy fluttered at his words, he was being so gentle with you, like you could break if he went too fast but his eyes burned with a need to claim you, to ruin you.

Your body was in a euphoric state, and he edged you for what felt like hours.

‘Say my name, sweetheart, I know you can,’ his smirk grew, his body glued to the spot, his sinful ghostly fingers abusing your gummy walls. Your core building with arousal, your clit throbbing on his unseen tongue.

“H-Hyunjin,” you whispered in a pathetic plea.

His voice is still there in your head, his lips unmoving. ‘Good girl, now come for me.’

His cock twitched under his pants as he commanded you. You came undone, your cunt flooded the sheets below, it fluttered as your high came over you, the knot in your stomach snapping and your hips bucking. Your orgasm shatters you.

You laid there for a moment panting. Sweating in ecstasy.

Then he finally moved and leaned over you. He brought his plump lips to your forehead and kissed you so tenderly, the kind of kiss that spoke of his longing for you. He pulled back and looked into your heavy lidded eyes.

“Sleep now, my little trinket. I’ll take care of you. No nightmares. Just rest, you did so good for me.” He said with a softness in his gaze.

You had no control over it, sleep overtook you in seconds.

𓆩⟡𓆪────────────────────𓆩⟡𓆪

You woke up early the next day, feeling light and almost cheerful. The darkness you had felt previously seemed to have subsided. You were well rested, it was surprising to you. You had become accustomed to the darkness, the cold, the fear. It consumed you and now that had disappeared. Trying not to dwell on it you prepared yourself a yummy breakfast, your plate stacked high. You hadn’t eaten in a while due to the anxiety that was eating away at you. Now that you were actually hungry, you thought you’d take advantage of it.

You showered and dressed ready for your return to work. You were looking forward to seeing Chan and your other colleagues. Maybe some normality would keep the darkness from returning. Though, you did start to like it there, but why? It scared you, it made you feel weird like someone else always had their eyes on you, like someone was always one step ahead and you couldn’t quite catch up. As you walked over to your nightstand to pick up your phone you looked at the perfume and locket again.

It was as if they winked at you, you felt a need to wear them, to claim them. To let the cool metal and the scent sink into your skin. You put on the locket, and the dainty chain glided against your fingers. You sprayed your wrists and throat with the perfume, its scent, his scent flooded your senses causing your mind to think of last night, when you came undone for him. You wanted to see him again, you needed to see him again. You still had time before your shift, maybe you could stop by on the way to work.

He had asked you after all and you didn’t want to deny him. The pull towards him felt stronger than ever. As you turned to leave you saw a long black feather on your pillow, with a folded piece of parchment tucked underneath it. That wasn’t there this morning? Had he entered while you were showering? You suddenly felt a little embarrassed and self-conscious. You blushed as you picked up the note, unfolding the rough paper.

It read- ‘There’s no me without you. - H.’ Your eyes went wide in shock and shivers cascaded up your spine.

How… romantic? You didn’t know he had this side to him. It made your heart race with anticipation. You definitely felt the need to see him now. You placed the note and feather in your nightstand drawer, grabbed your tote bag and left your apartment.

Chapter 2 - Coming Soon!

DISCLAIMER - I do not own the rights to Stray Kids, they are used purely as inspiration for fictional characters. The actions and behaviour depicted in this fic do not represent the idols in real life. I do not own any of the images in the banner.

PERMANENT TAGLIST - @fairylix @hoes4minho @lilileen25 @akindaflora @tirena1 @stayjinnie @jehhskz @alittlebitofeverything04 @chloe-elise-2000 @estellan0vella @yaorzu-blog

TAGLIST OPEN!

[hwangjoanna]

If you like ‘Red light, Green light’ read this because it’s hot as fuck!

G o o d G i r l , S t a y A l i v e .

Kim Seungmin x Reader | undercover guard, filthy praise, overstim, creampie, “you’re mine” energy

🔞synopsis: Squid Games AU. Seungmin isn’t just another player. Too smart, too lucky, too focused on keeping you alive to be innocent. And when he shows up in a stolen guard uniform, drags you into a camera-dead storage room, and fucks you like he’s been holding back for weeks? Yeah. He’s breaking every rule—and he doesn’t care. You’re his. You’re staying alive. And when he gets you out of here? He’ll tell you everything.

💌a/n: OKAY LISTEN. I’VE BEEN TEASING A SQUID GAMES AU FOR A FEW TIMES NOW, AND... idk if you expected it or not, but SURPRISE. Here it is. Guard-uniform Seungmin. Detective brain. Filthy mouth. Overstimulation in a storage room. Yeah. I will not be revealing what each member’s role is just yet (👀 you’ll find out later, I promise), but for now, enjoy this feral little… thing. I really do hope you enjoy??? like actually. I had way too much fun writing Seungmin losing his mind over you. He’s supposed to be undercover and he’s acting like this. Zero self-control, 10/10 choices. p.s. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS FEED ME. do it. i’m watching. p.p.s. i wrote the overstim part grinning like a lunatic, you’re welcome p.p.p.s. i go eepy now 💋🦇

⚠️ warnings: 18+ | MINORS DNI | P in V smut – unprotected, creampie (wrap it up sluts) | Overstimulation (multiple orgasms) | Rough sex / Feral pace | Semi-public setting (risk of getting caught) | Spanking (ass slapping) | Manhandling | Marking (biting, hickeys) | Possessive!Seungmin / soft protectiveness after | Dom!Seungmin | Slight power imbalance (he’s undercover, you’re a player, but fully consensual)

📌 Read responsibly. Hydrate. Stretch. Seungmin’s undercover, you’re overstimmed—don’t cramp up.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

You hadn’t come here to win.

Well—okay, that’s a lie. Everyone had technically come to win. 45.6 billion won could solve everything. But unlike the other players, you weren’t in mountains of debt, weren’t wanted by loan sharks, weren’t running from gang collectors.

You were here because you were stupid.

One bad bet, one forged signature for someone else’s crime, and suddenly the choice had been simple: prison or this.

So you signed, and now you were here—dressed in a teal tracksuit, standing shoulder to shoulder with terrified strangers under fluorescent lights, the air reeking of sweat, metal, and fear.

He didn’t fit here.

You noticed him immediately, though you didn’t know why at first. Maybe it was his posture—straight-backed, relaxed, completely unbothered while everyone else trembled. Or maybe it was his eyes: sharp, scanning the room like he was memorizing everyone’s faces.

Seungmin looked like a man who wasn’t gambling his life; he looked like a man working.

Which, of course, was exactly what he was.

Kim Seungmin was a detective. One of the only insiders who’d successfully slipped into the games as a player, his real job wasn’t to win—it was to gather evidence, memorize guard patterns, and, if possible, expose the entire operation.

But you didn’t know that yet.

To you, he was just the infuriatingly calm guy sitting cross-legged on the dorm floor, chewing a stale rice cracker like this was some kind of field trip. When you caught him watching you that first night, he’d simply tilted his head, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You didn’t know then that he’d already memorized your name, your stats, your file. Or that he’d quietly decided to keep you alive.

For now.

The sun was blindingly bright.

It wasn’t real—you could tell by the way the painted clouds didn’t move, by how the heat didn’t burn your skin—but it still made you squint as you stepped into the giant outdoor arena. The massive animatronic doll loomed ahead, its mechanical head twitching as it scanned the sea of trembling players.

“Green Light.”

The mechanical sing-song voice echoed, and the crowd lurched forward.

Your heart pounded as you tried to time your steps with the others.

“Red Light.”

Everyone froze. Someone to your left moved a fraction of an inch too far—

BANG.

Blood sprayed the fake grass. Screams rippled through the crowd. You swallowed bile, body locked stiff, legs trembling as the doll scanned again.

“Green Light.”

Move. Move. Move.

You weren’t fast, but you weren’t terrible either. By halfway through the course, your breathing was ragged, your legs shaking. Every “Red Light” felt like a death sentence. And then, of course, it happened. A panicked player shoved into you from behind just as the doll’s head began to turn. You stumbled forward, arms flailing, a strangled noise catching in your throat—

—and a hand snapped around the back of your tracksuit, yanking you backward so hard you slammed into someone’s chest.

Your body went rigid, pressed against them as the doll scanned.

Silence. No gunshot.

“Green Light.”

The grip on your tracksuit didn’t loosen until the doll turned away again. You whipped around, heart hammering, and found him.

Seungmin.

Standing close, casual, like he hadn’t just saved your life. His expression was maddeningly calm, but there was the faintest hint of amusement in his dark eyes.

“You—” you hissed, voice cracking.

His mouth curved into the smallest, cockiest smirk. “You owe me for that.” And then he moved past you like nothing had happened, hands tucked into his pockets, as if saving your life was just… part of the game for him.

You stared after him, furious and—annoyingly—shaken. And there was one thing you had realized in that moment, and that was that Kim Seungmin wasn't just lucky. He was in fact too good at this. Suspiciously good.

The dorm smelled like sweat and stale food. The air was thick, humid with too many people crammed together, and the constant whispering set your nerves on edge. You sat cross-legged on the hard floor, poking at the lump of bread in your hands, trying not to look at the pile of corpses that had grown since day one.

Across the room, Seungmin sat like he owned the place. Back against the wall, long legs stretched out, that same calm, infuriatingly smug look plastered on his face.

Of course, he caught you staring.

He tilted his head slightly, that lazy smirk forming like it was second nature. “You’re staring again.”

You glared. “I’m staring because you’re shady as hell.”

That earned you a quiet chuckle. Not the nervous, broken laughs you’d heard from other players—no, Seungmin’s was soft, sharp, like he actually found you funny. He leaned his head back against the wall, still watching you. “Shady? Or just better at surviving than you?”

You tossed a crumb of bread at him. He didn’t even flinch as it hit his tracksuit.

“Nobody’s that good. Not unless…” you lowered your voice, leaning forward, “…you’re cheating.”

A beat of silence.

Then, that smile. That smile—the one that made your stomach twist. “And if I am?” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. “What are you gonna do? Tell someone?”

Your mouth went dry. Because you weren’t stupid. If you did call him out and he really was cheating, you’d be dead before you got the words out.

He saw the hesitation flicker across your face and his smirk widened. Seungmin pushed off the wall, standing fluidly. You tensed as he walked straight over to you, crouching down until he was eye-level.

Too close. Way too close.

His knee brushed yours, deliberately, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re alive because of me.” His gaze dragged over your face, unreadable but hot, the weight of it making your pulse stutter. “Maybe you should… be grateful.”

You scoffed, trying to sound braver than you felt. “You sound like you’re asking for a thank-you card.”

His smirk turned wicked. “Not a card. Something better.”

You froze.

He leaned in closer, lips almost brushing your ear, and whispered: “Be good for me, and maybe I’ll keep saving you.” And then, just like that, he stood and walked back to his corner, leaving you sitting there flushed and furious.

You weren’t supposed to still be alive. At least, not by your own rules. You’d been paired against an older man, and the moment you saw Seungmin across the yard, you knew. He’d thrown you a look, subtle but unmistakable, right before your opponent tripped and lost his last marble.

You won.

Seungmin had rigged it. But you didn’t thank him. You didn’t even look at him. Because you hadn’t played fair. Because someone else had died for you.

That night, you sat cross-legged in your corner of the dorm, back to the wall, trying not to cry as the lights flickered out.

Everyone else was silent. Too many players had died today. But you felt his eyes on you. You didn’t look up.

It was hours later when it happened. You’d just started to drift off when a hand clamped around your wrist, tugging you up so fast you nearly gasped.

“Shh.”

You barely had time to register the voice before Seungmin dragged you into the shadows, behind the stacked supply crates near the far wall. The second you opened your mouth, his hand was over it, pressing you back against the cold metal.

His eyes glinted in the faint light, sharp, angry.

“What the hell was that today?” His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the tension under it.

You shoved at his chest, muffled against his palm. He didn’t move. When he finally let you speak, you hissed, “What do you mean ‘what the hell’? I played the game.”

“No,” he growled, leaning closer, “you almost lost on purpose. I watched you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off.

“Do you want to die that badly? Or are you just stupid?”

Your anger flared. “Maybe I don’t want to win by cheating—”

His laugh was sharp, humourless. “Newsflash, sweetheart: everyone here is cheating. The only difference is, I’m better at it.”

You glared, chest rising and falling fast. “Then stop saving me.”

For a second, he just stared at you. Then his jaw tightened, and something shifted in his expression—anger, frustration, something darker. “You think I can do that?” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You froze.

Seungmin braced one hand against the crate beside your head, leaning in until his breath brushed your ear. “You’ve been distracting me since the first day.” His voice dropped, rougher now. “I’m supposed to be focused on winning, on getting out of here, but every time you almost die—” His other hand gripped your hip suddenly, pulling you flush against him, “—all I can think about is keeping you alive.”

Your breath hitched, heat pooling low in your stomach. “Seungmin—”

His name barely left your lips before his mouth was on yours. The kiss was rough, nothing careful about it. Teeth clashing, his hand still gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. You gasped into his mouth, and his tongue slid against yours, hungry, desperate.

“Quiet,” he muttered against your lips, dragging his mouth down to your jaw, your neck. “You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”

His hand slid under your shirt, fingers tracing your skin like he was memorizing it. When you arched into him, he smirked against your throat. “That’s it. Be good for me.”

His hand slid lower, teasing the waistband of your tracksuit pants. You stiffened, breath catching, and his smirk deepened against your throat. “Relax.” His voice was low, rough—dangerous. “You’ve wanted this as much as I have.”

Your heart was pounding, heat curling through your stomach, but you still whispered, “Seungmin, we can’t—”

His laugh was quiet, almost cruel. “We can. We shouldn’t… but we will.”

And then his hand slipped under the waistband, warm fingers brushing over your panties. You gasped, body jerking, and his other hand instantly clamped over your mouth. “Shhh,” he breathed against your ear, hips pressing closer, his cock hard against your thigh through his pants. “You don’t want them to wake up, do you? You don’t want them to know how good I’m about to make you feel?”

Your muffled protest died in your throat when his fingers pressed against your clothed core, rubbing slow, teasing circles. He chuckled softly when he felt how wet you were. “Already dripping for me? Fuck, you’re worse than I thought.”

You glared at him through hazy eyes, but the way your hips bucked into his hand betrayed you. Seungmin hummed, sliding his fingers under your panties now, touching you directly. The first stroke of his fingers against your folds had you biting down on his palm to keep from crying out.

“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw as his fingers slipped between your folds, collecting your slick. “Take it for me. Just like that.”

His movements were slow at first, two fingers stroking you lazily, making you squirm. He was enjoying this too much, and you could feel it in the way his body pressed closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you know how hard it’s been, watching you almost die every damn day?” His voice was harsher now, almost angry, his fingers curling inside you. “I have a job to do. I’m supposed to be focused. But you—”

He pressed his thumb to your clit, circling it until your legs trembled. “—you keep distracting me. Every time you look at me like that, I just want to ruin you.”

You whimpered against his hand, nails digging into his jacket.

“That’s it,” he groaned, speeding up, the wet sounds between you almost drowned out by your muffled gasps. “Be good for me. You owe me, remember? You’re alive because of me—so fuck, let me have this.”

Your thighs were shaking, your head tipping back against the crate, when his pace grew rougher. He was close to losing that perfect control, you could feel it in the way his breathing grew uneven.

“Say it,” he rasped, thumb flicking your clit harder. “Say you’re mine.”

You shook your head weakly, too far gone to speak, but his fingers didn’t stop.

“Say it, or I stop.” His tone was sharp, almost cruel, but the desperate edge in his voice betrayed him.

“I—” you gasped into his palm, eyes fluttering shut. “Yours—Seungmin, I’m yours—”

His groan was low, almost a growl, and his fingers worked you faster, relentless, until you broke under him. Your orgasm hit you hard, trembling against his hand, muffling your cries against his palm. Seungmin didn’t stop until you sagged against the crate, breathing heavy, thighs twitching.

When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his hand from your pants, slick fingers glistening faintly in the dim light.

You expected a smug comment, but instead, he gently tucked your shirt back into place, his other hand brushing your cheek, unexpectedly soft.

For a moment, his mask slipped, and you saw it—the worry he tried to hide. He leaned in close, voice barely a whisper. “Don’t die on me. Not after this.”

And before you could respond, he pressed one last soft kiss to your temple and melted back into the shadows like nothing had happened.

The Front Man however noticed. He noticed everything—the smallest hesitation, the slightest shift in routine—and Seungmin was starting to slip. First, it was the glances. Nothing overt, but enough that his sharp eyes caught it on the surveillance feeds: Seungmin sitting a fraction too close to you during meals, his gaze tracking you in every game.

Then came the “accidents.”

A guard found unconscious near the storage crates two nights ago. Security footage mysteriously corrupted. A missing uniform. The Front Man had reviewed the tapes himself. And tonight, as he stood in the observation room, watching the live feed from the dorms, his jaw tightened beneath the black mask.

There you were, sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking tired but alive. And just a few feet away, Seungmin—expression calm, too calm, his shoulder angled toward you like instinct.

His fingers tapped the armrest slowly. He turned his head slightly. “Square 7,” he addressed sharply.

The Square-Masked guard tensed. “Sir.”

“Keep an eye on Player 187,” He ordered, his gaze fixed on Seungmin’s calm figure on the screen. “He’s becoming… sloppy.”

The guard hesitated for only a fraction of a second before bowing his head. “Understood.”

But the Front Man wasn’t done. His tone dropped lower, dangerous. “If he becomes a liability… eliminate him.”

But the thing about Seungmin? He knew he was being watched. And he didn’t care anymore.

That night, the dorm was restless. Too many players had died in the last game, and everyone was on edge. The guards lined the walls in their usual silent formation, weapons at their sides.

But you noticed immediately. One of the guards stood differently—too relaxed, too casual. And when he shifted just slightly, you could see him staring at you.

You barely had time to process before he moved. He waited until lights-out, when the players started to doze in their corners, and then he stepped forward, his boots unnervingly silent for a guard. You kept your head down, pretending to sleep, but when his gloved hand suddenly clamped around your wrist, you nearly gasped. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at anyone else—just tugged you up smoothly, his body language so perfect no one dared question it.

The other guards didn’t even glance your way. And just like that, he led you out of the dorm, down a hallway he had inspected and made sure were no cameras and finally, into an empty storage room. The door door shutting behind you with a soft click.

The silence was deafening.

You backed up a step as the red-clad guard turned toward you, the black mask reflecting the faint overhead light. His presence felt different than the other guards.

You swallowed hard, your back hitting the wall. “Why did you bring me here?” you demanded, voice low but sharp.

The guard didn’t answer. Instead, he reached up slowly, gloved fingers hooking beneath the mask.

Your heart stuttered as he pulled it off. And there he was.

Seungmin. Hair slightly damp from sweat under the helmet, dark eyes glinting with something between mischief and frustration, his face calm in a way that made you want to scream.

Your jaw dropped. “What the fuck—Seungmin?!”

He smirked, tucking the mask under one arm like this was perfectly normal. “Miss me?”

You gaped at him, anger bubbling up as fast as relief. “Where the hell have you been? You disappear for two nights, and now you’re in a—” you gestured at the uniform wildly, “—fucking guard outfit?!”

Seungmin tilted his head slightly, watching you like you were adorable when you were mad. “You noticed.”

“Of course I noticed! What the hell are you even doing? Have you been—” you broke off, glaring, “—have you been messing with me this whole time?”

Seungmin tilted his head, leaning one shoulder against the crate like this was casual, like you weren’t about to combust. “Messing with you?” His smirk deepened, his dark eyes scanning your flushed face, drinking in every twitch of irritation. “No. I’ve been keeping you alive.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, right, because you’re just that good at this? Every time I almost die, you just happen to be there?”

“Exactly.”

You blinked. “That’s not an answer, Seungmin!”

His chuckle was low, amused—too amused. He pushed off the crate and closed the space between you in two slow steps, his gaze locked on yours like you were the most interesting thing in the room. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You glared harder. “Don’t change the subject. You disappear for two nights, you come back dressed like a fucking guard—what, are you working for them?!”

That made him laugh. Actually laugh—quiet and sharp, like you’d just told him the funniest thing in the world. “Me? A guard?” He stepped closer, lowering his voice, his smirk turning downright sinful. “Sweetheart, if I worked for them, you wouldn’t still be breathing.”

You swallowed, anger still boiling, but your pulse spiked at the way his tone dropped on sweetheart. “Then what the hell are you doing, huh? Why risk everything?!”

For a moment, his expression shifted—serious, almost dangerous. He leaned down, caging you against the crates with one hand braced beside your head, his other hand casually resting on your hip like it belonged there. “Because I don’t plan on dying here. And when I walk out, I plan to burn this entire fucking place to the ground.”

Your breath caught, your anger flickering into something else entirely.

Seungmin smirked at the way your lips parted, at how your chest rose faster now. “But you?” His hand slid higher, brushing your waist, teasing. “You keep making that very hard for me.”

You stiffened. “How is that my fault?”

“Because you’re distracting as hell.” His voice dropped, rough now, closer to the edge he usually kept under control. “You’re smart, you’re stubborn, and you look at me like you know I’m cheating, but you still follow me. Do you know how hot that is?”

You flushed, opening your mouth to argue, but he was already leaning closer, his forehead brushing yours.

“You get angry, you yell at me, and all I can think about is how much I want to shut you up with my mouth.”

Your pulse slammed against your ribs, and his smirk softened into something darker, hungrier.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” His thumb brushed just under your ribs now, slow, testing. “But you’re not going to, are you?”

You glared, even as your back pressed harder against the crates. “You’re so cocky.”

His grin widened. “And you love it.”

You didn’t even have time to breathe before his mouth was on yours. No hesitation, no teasing this time—rough, messy, desperate. The kiss was all teeth and heat, his lips crashing against yours like he’d been holding back for days. Your head tilted back as his tongue slid against yours, deep and hungry, stealing every breath you had. One of his hands braced against the crate, the other suddenly gripping your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

He groaned at the sound, low and sharp, and squeezed harder, dragging you closer against him until you felt his cock straining against his uniform. “Fuck—” you gasped when he finally tore his mouth away to breathe, his forehead pressed to yours, his fingers digging into your ass like he couldn’t get enough.

His voice was rough, broken by his own heavy breathing. “You don’t even get it, do you? You drive me fucking insane.” Before you could answer, he grabbed you—actually lifted you up, setting you on the edge of the crate with a dull thud. His hands slid to your thighs, spreading them wide, and then right back to your ass, kneading, squeezing like he’d been dying to touch you properly.

“God, you feel so good,” he muttered against your jaw, “I’ve been thinking about this, you have no idea—”

You clutched his uniform jacket, trying to pull him closer, and he laughed breathlessly against your neck.

“Needy, huh?” His teeth grazed your skin before he kissed you again—sloppy, wet, his tongue pushing past your lips like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. Your moan slipped out before you could stop it, and that made him groan, deep and filthy.

“Yeah, just like that. So fucking hot when you can’t keep quiet for me.”

He bit your bottom lip gently before sucking it into his mouth, releasing it with a wet pop that made your stomach tighten. Both his hands were back on your ass now, pulling you against the hard line of him as he ground against you slowly, like he wanted you to feel how much he wanted you.

“You feel that?” His voice dropped, low and feral in your ear. “That’s what you do to me.”

Your head tipped back as he kissed down your neck, sloppy and unrestrained now, teeth scraping before soothing with hot, open-mouthed kisses. One of his hands slid up your side, grabbing your waist, pulling you closer until you were almost straddling him on the edge of the crate.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasped against your skin, kissing back up to your jaw. “Tell me to keep going.”

Your fingers tightened in his jacket, breath shaky. “Seungmin… don’t stop.”

His grin was dark, breath hot against your cheek. “Good girl.” His lips trailed down across your neck and you whimpered when he sucked at the spot just below your ear, leaving a faint bruise, and that sound made him groan low in his throat. “I need to be inside you. Right now.”

Your breath caught, and his eyes—dark, hungry—searched yours for a split second, almost like he was giving you a chance to say no.

You didn’t. You tugged at his jacket instead, whispering, “Then do it.”

With a quiet, frustrated groan, he yanked at the waistband of your tracksuit pants, dragging them down along with your panties in one swift, desperate motion. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver, but his hands were right there, warm and sure, pulling you to the very edge of the crate.

“Fuck,” he muttered when he saw you—already wet, thighs trembling. His thumb brushed along your inner thigh, teasing for half a second before he smirked. “You’re soaked for me.”

You glared weakly, but your body betrayed you, hips tilting toward him, and his grin widened, feral. He unzipped his uniform jacket halfway with one hand, pushing his pants down just enough to free himself, his cock hard and flushed as he gripped it. The sight of him like that—half-undressed in the red uniform, breathing heavy, looking at you like he might actually devour you—made your stomach twist with heat.

His hand tightened around his cock as he stepped closer, the head brushing against your slick folds slow and teasing. You jolted, your fingers digging into his jacket, but his grin only widened, that feral, amused spark in his dark eyes.

“You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?” he murmured, dragging his tip along your entrance but not pushing in, spreading your wetness over himself. “All because I disappeared for a couple nights.”

You glared up at him, breath shaky. “You— you didn’t even tell me where you were—”

He chuckled low, leaning down to press his mouth to your jaw, kissing you lazily as his cock slid against you again, slick and maddeningly slow. “God, you’re adorable when you’re angry.” His teeth grazed your skin, nipping lightly. “You care. You were worried, weren’t you?”

You tried to shove him back, but he just pressed his cock against you harder, sliding between your folds until the head nudged your clit, making you gasp despite yourself. His smirk was devastating. “You were. You missed me.”

“I did not—”

“Then why are you this wet for me?” he interrupted, his thumb moving to rub tight, slow circles over your clit as his cock teased your entrance, “—when I haven’t even given you anything yet?”

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his shoulders now.

Seungmin hummed low, almost to himself, his voice turning rougher. “You can hate me all you want after, baby. But right now? You’re gonna take everything I give you.” Finally, finally, he pushed in—just the tip, groaning under his breath when your walls squeezed around him immediately. “Shit—so fucking tight,” he hissed, his forehead dropping against yours, his hands gripping your hips tight to hold you still.

You whimpered, trying to roll your hips for more, but he stilled you with a sharp squeeze to your waist. “Ah, ah,” he teased, pulling back just enough to slide his cock slowly through your slick folds again, “you don’t get it all at once. Not after yelling at me like that.”

You glared, panting. “You’re such a—”

He cut you off with a sharp thrust of just a little deeper, making you gasp mid-sentence. His grin was wicked. “Say it. Go on.” Another slow push, deeper this time, his cock stretching you inch by inch. “Tell me how mad you are while you’re dripping all over me.”

Your hands fisted in his jacket, your head tipping back as his slow, deliberate pace started driving you insane.

“Seungmin, please—”

His groan was low, harsh, his control finally starting to crack. “Fuck—don’t beg yet. I’m enjoying this too much.” He pushed in another slow inch, groaning under his breath, his hands gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, voice strained, forehead pressing against yours as he stilled inside you, barely halfway in. “I could stay like this all night.”

You whined, shifting your hips, trying to pull him deeper, but his grip held you still.

“No, no,” he whispered, his grin smug even as his jaw tightened with restraint. “You don’t get it all until you say it.”

Your brows furrowed, breath shaky. “S-say what?”

His eyes darkened, a wicked smirk curling his lips as he pulled out almost completely, then slid back in slowly, agonisingly slow, until your walls clenched around him desperately.

“Say you missed me.”

Your face heated, stubbornness warring with the needy ache low in your stomach. “I’m not—”

He let out a sharp laugh, pulling out again, only to push in shallowly, barely giving you anything. “Then I guess I’ll just take my time,” he taunted, his voice low and teasing as his cock slid just at your entrance, rubbing against your sensitive walls without giving you the deep thrust you craved. “I can keep this up for hours, baby.”

You groaned in frustration, trying to push yourself onto him, but he held you still, his thumbs digging into your hips.

“Look at you,” he murmured, leaning close to kiss along your jaw, slow and lazy despite the tension humming through his body. “Squirming for me already. You hate me right now, don’t you?”

“I do hate you,” you bit out, though your voice cracked as he slid in just a little deeper, making your stomach tighten.

His grin widened, his teeth grazing your neck before he kissed it. “Liar. You don’t hate me. You missed me. You were worried about me.”

“I was not—”

He snapped his hips forward just enough to bury himself a little deeper, cutting off your words with a sharp gasp. “Say it.” His tone was darker now, more strained, self-control hanging by a thread. “Say you missed me, or I’ll pull out and leave you like this.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your pride crumbling with every shallow, teasing thrust.

Finally, you broke.

“I—fuck—Seungmin, I missed you, okay?!”

His groan was downright sinful, his head dropping to your shoulder, his teeth scraping your skin as his hips stilled deep inside you. “Good girl,” he rasped, his voice shaking now, his hands tightening on your hips. “Fuck, I’ve been dying to hear you say that.”

His hips slammed into yours brutally, burying himself to the hilt with each thrust. The crate beneath you creaked dangerously, but Seungmin didn’t slow, his jaw tight, eyes locked on the way your body arched against him. “Fuck—just like that,” he groaned, his voice rough, low enough to make your stomach twist. “You feel so fucking good squeezing me like this.”

You gasped, nails clawing at his open uniform jacket as he set a brutal pace, every deep thrust making your breath hitch.

But he wasn’t done.

His hand—still gripping your hip hard enough to bruise—suddenly moved. He slapped your thigh sharply, the sound echoing in the small storage room, making you jolt with a breathless moan. Seungmin grinned, feral, before his hand immediately slid between your legs, fingers rubbing your clit harshly, fast, in tight circles.

Your head fell back, your walls clenching around him so tightly he cursed under his breath.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, his thrusts growing even rougher, faster, chasing your reaction. “Cum for me, baby. You came on my fingers, but now—fuck—I wanna feel you cum on my cock. I’ve been wanting this since day one.”

You whimpered, already trembling as the overwhelming pace sent you spiralling, and his filthy grin widened, his thrusts hitting deeper, perfectly timed with every harsh stroke of his fingers.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” His voice was strained now, his own control slipping, but his hand didn’t stop. “I can feel you—so fucking tight—don’t hold back. Cum for me. Now.”

You moaned his name, your voice breaking as your climax hit you hard, your entire body tightening around him as you shook. Seungmin groaned low, almost animalistic, burying himself deep and holding you still as he felt you squeeze around him, milking him.

“F-fuck, that’s it—good girl—yeah, just like that, take it, baby—” His rhythm stuttered, hips snapping desperately now, still rubbing at your clit to overstimulate you, drawing out every second of your orgasm. You gasped, legs trembling, and he pressed his forehead to your neck.

“You think I’m done with you?” he rasped, his voice low, strained with the effort of holding himself back even a little. His teeth grazed your throat before he licked a slow, wet stripe up to your jaw, his tongue hot against your skin. “Not even close, baby.”

You whimpered, still shaking from your orgasm, and that only made his grin turn downright wicked.

“Yeah… I can feel you twitching around me,” he muttered, almost to himself, his hips grinding deeper as he licked and kissed at your neck, sloppy and unrestrained. “You’re so sensitive now. Bet I can make you cum again.”

Before you could protest, his hand slid between you again, his fingers finding your clit immediately.

“Seungmin—w-wait, I—”

“Shh, don’t fight it.” His tone was soft but filthy, his finger already circling your clit in harsh, quick motions, perfectly timed with his rough thrusts. “You can take it. Be a good girl for me—let me feel you fall apart again.”

You gasped, back arching as his cock filled you over and over, the added stimulation making your legs tremble uncontrollably.

Seungmin groaned against your skin, biting lightly at your shoulder before soothing the mark with his tongue. “God, you’re so fucking perfect like this—so wet, clenching so tight for me even after cumming.”

Your hands fisted in his uniform jacket, nails dragging down his back as your moans spilled out despite you trying to hold them in.

He chuckled darkly, his thrusts turning sloppy but relentless, chasing every reaction. “That’s it. Be loud for me. No one can hear us in here anyway, baby—fuck—I want to hear you.”

The combination of his pounding thrusts and the brutal pace of his fingers on your clit made you twitch and squirm, your walls fluttering around him again as you gasped his name.

“Yeah, say it again,” he groaned, his hips snapping harder, kissing messily along your jaw, your cheek, anywhere he could reach. “Say my name while you cum for me.”

You were already falling apart, your voice breaking into desperate, breathless sounds as his cock slammed into you over and over, his fingers rubbing your clit in fast, harsh circles that made your whole body twitch.

“S-Seungmin—ah—please—fuck, I—”

Your words dissolved into a moan, incoherent and needy, and he groaned low in his throat, his teeth grazing your jaw before biting lightly at your cheek.

“Yeah, just like that,” he growled, his voice rough, almost unhinged. “You can’t even talk, can you? Too fucked out already.”

You shook your head weakly, gasping as another sharp thrust had you clenching hard around him. Your legs trembled violently, your thighs trying to squeeze together, but his hand slapped your thigh again before spreading you wider, keeping you open for him.

“Don’t you dare close up on me,” he rasped, his hips snapping harder, deeper. “I’m not done with you. You’re gonna cum for me again—fuck—you’re gonna soak my cock this time.”

“S-Seungmin—ngh—I can’t—”

“You can,” he cut you off, his pace relentless, his thumb pressing tighter against your clit, circling faster. His grin turned downright feral when your back arched, your moans breaking into incoherent whimpers.

“Oh, you’re close again, aren’t you? Fuck, I can feel you tightening up already. Do it—cum for me again, baby. Give it to me.”

You gasped, your voice nothing but incoherent babbling now, his name spilling from your lips over and over like a prayer as the pleasure built fast and overwhelming.

“Say it louder,” he growled against your neck, licking a hot stripe up to your ear before biting your earlobe gently. “I wanna hear you scream my name when you fall apart.”

And you did.

Your orgasm ripped through you harder than before, your whole body convulsing, legs twitching uncontrollably as you cried out his name, babbling broken pleas you couldn’t even form into words.

Seungmin groaned sharply, his rhythm faltering for a moment as he buried himself deep, feeling you spasm around him. “F-fuck—yes, that’s it, baby, fuck, you’re squeezing me so good—good girl—mine—” But even as you trembled, overstimulated and weak, his thumb didn’t leave your clit, rubbing slower but still deliberate, coaxing every aftershock out of you.

“Look at you, twitching for me—so perfect,” he murmured, pressing messy kisses along your neck, his breath ragged. “One more, baby. Just one more for me.”

You shook your head frantically, gasping, “C-can’t—too much—”

His dark grin widened, softening for just a second as he kissed your cheek, but his hips were still rolling into you, slower now but deep, controlled.

“Yes, you can. Be good for me. Cum one more time—I know you can. But first...” Seungmin groaned against your neck, his thrusts slowing just long enough for him to pull out, his cock slick and glistening. You blinked at him, still trembling, trying to catch your breath, but his dark, hungry grin sent a new wave of heat through you.

“Turn around for me.” he rasped, his voice low and wrecked.

You hesitated, still dazed, but he was already gripping your waist and pulling you down from the crate, spinning you smoothly until your chest pressed against the cool surface. His hand slid down your back, firm, guiding you into position until you were bent over slightly, ass arched perfectly for him.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his tone dripping with approval as he positioned himself behind you. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this.” Before you could reply, his hand cracked against your ass—once, twice, then a third sharp slap, each one making you jolt and gasp.

“Seungmin—!”

His chuckle was dark, amused, and so damn cocky. “That’s right, say my name.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but then he thrust into you from behind in one deep, brutal stroke, making your voice break into a sharp moan instead. “God—fuck—” you gasped, hands gripping the crate tightly as his hips immediately started pounding into you, fast and relentless.

Seungmin groaned, his grip on your hips tightening, fingers digging in as he fucked you hard enough to make the crate creak beneath you.

“That’s it, baby—take it,” he growled, his pace brutal now. “You feel even better than I imagined—fuck, so tight.”

Your head dropped forward, your moans spilling out in broken, incoherent babbles.

“Seungmin—ah—so good—your cock—fuck—missed you—so much—”

The second those words left your lips, his groan turned almost animalistic, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, his hands squeezing your hips like he was trying to mold you into his palms. “Say that again,” he rasped, leaning over you now, his chest pressed to your back, his mouth hot against your ear. “Say you missed me.”

You whimpered, barely able to think, your words tumbling out without filter. “Missed you—fuck—missed you so much, Seungmin—needed you—”

His growl was low, broken, as his pace turned downright feral. “Shit—fuck—you’re gonna make me cum so hard—keep talking, baby, keep saying my name.”

You were almost sobbing now, your legs trembling violently, pleasure building fast again as his cock slammed into you from behind, his tip brushing that perfect spot with every thrust. Seungmin pressed his mouth to your shoulder, biting hard enough to muffle his own moan as he pounded into you, his voice wrecked.

“You’re mine. Say it.”

“Y-yours—Seungmin, I’m yours—”

“Good fucking girl.”

Seungmin’s thrusts grew harder, faster, sloppy with desperation. Your moans were completely incoherent now, your face pressed against the crate as your body trembled violently with every brutal thrust.

“Seungmin—ah—f-fuck—so deep—”

His grin was feral, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down, chest flush to your back, still thrusting into you ruthlessly.

“Yeah, that’s it—take all of me, baby. You love it, don’t you? Love when I fuck you stupid like this.”

You whimpered, babbling helplessly. “Yes—fuck—love it—love your cock—so good—”

That made him growl low, his pace somehow even rougher, his words tumbling out fast and filthy now. “God, you’re perfect. My perfect girl. All mine. Say it—say you’re mine while I fill you up.”

You cried out his name, barely able to form words as you gasped, “Yours—Seungmin—I’m yours—please—”

“Good girl,” he rasped, his thrusts erratic now, his self-control snapping completely. One hand slid from your hip to your clit again, rubbing fast and harsh despite how sensitive you already were.

“Cum with me, baby. Come on—cum all over my cock while I fill you.”

You shook your head weakly, sobbing, “C-can’t—too much—”

His grip tightened on your hip, his thrusts slamming deeper, rougher. “Yeah, you can. Be good for me one more time. I want to feel you squeeze me while I cum.” The overstimulation hit fast, pleasure crashing over you again as you clenched hard around him, screaming his name as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you shaking violently under him.

“Fuuuck—yes, that’s it, baby—milk my cock—just like that—good girl, my good fucking girl—”

With one final deep thrust, Seungmin groaned harshly against your shoulder, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled deep inside you, his hips grinding to keep himself as close as possible.

“Take it all—fuck—you’re mine—”

His pace slowed gradually, his cock twitching inside you as he stayed pressed deep, his forehead against your back, his breathing ragged. For a moment, neither of you moved—your body still twitching from overstimulation, his chest heaving against your back, his hands softening where they gripped your hips.

Then, slowly, his lips brushed your shoulder. A soft, almost reverent kiss. Then another. The shift was jarring—the feral, relentless man who had just fucked you senseless now kissing your skin like you were something fragile, something to be cherished.

His forehead rested against the curve of your neck, and his voice came low, hoarse but steady. “You’re staying alive. You hear me?” His lips ghosted over your skin between words, soft kisses peppered along your neck. “I’m keeping you alive.”

You turned your head slightly, still breathless, whispering, “Seungmin…”

He pressed another kiss to your jaw, slower this time, his hand sliding gently up your side to hold you closer. “When we get out of here—when I get you out—” His tone softened even more, the raw intensity in his eyes now replaced with something deeply sincere. “—I’ll tell you everything. The truth. Why I’m really here. All of it.”

You blinked at him, heart pounding for an entirely new reason. “The truth?”

He kissed your cheek, his lips lingering for a long second.

“Yeah. But for now…” He pulled out carefully, helping you straighten up, his hands steady on your waist as if you might break. He smirked just slightly, softer than his usual cocky grin. “…just trust me, okay? You don’t have to understand everything yet. Just stay alive for me.”

And all you could do is take his word for it and trust him.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco , @emilyywhyy , @rainyjeno , @fawnoverdawn , @pixie-felix , @anniestay , @notmeneo , @lovslixx , @themoonlightfae , @heartwithoutaname , @yourghostneighbor , @princesskrystix , @drilles , @y2kur0mi , @mochi-space , @ivaviavi , @phelans-thoughts , @the-anon-reader , @beans4beans56 , @joyfulchaoslover , @channieismylove , @cherryoatchai , @unimportantweirdo , @seagulljk , @freckles-and-rage , @lonelydarknessblog , @girlsymptoms , @bookswillfindyouaway , @jasperlvskz , @geekymommakerry , @dazzlingjade , @alisonyus , @pluto-rose , @crazy4books1 , @b3autyist3rror , @felixleftchickennugget , @loonybunny1 , @itzkaitlynm , @boldy-49 , @zayn-210 , @hanjiswvrld

[hwangjoanna]

My delulu brain is so fucked after this! But in the best way!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞? 𝐍𝐨. 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 & 𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot (requested by @stephanieeeyang. Tysm!)

Synopsis: Why just one when you can have both? And both are just as down bad as you are for them. Alexa, play "Same damn time".

Warnings: SMUT 🔞 after some plot. Uni AU. A pinch of tension. Unprotected sex. Pure FLITH. 3some (first time writing this), double penetration, drunk confessions, mentions of alcohol , dirty talk, rough & gentle HyunChan, cursing, creampie, oral (f recieving), multiple orgasms, rounds, praises, degradation, aftercare, name calling, pet names.

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: Everytime I write something I always think to myself, "This can't get any filthier." I'm always fucking wrong LMFAO. Some things mentioned might seem unrealistic(?), but again, this is fiction. And the story was sent by this ask.

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it.

Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 8.5k (it's worth it, just give it a chance🙏🏻)

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The city buzzed under your feet, somewhere between excitement and the nightlife. The usual gang—the guys and you—walked together, heading to a late dinner after an afternoon of wandering through art galleries and overpriced thrift shops.

However, you stayed somewhere near the back, not because you didn’t want to walk with them, but because he was up front—Bang Chan, with his sun-warmed smile and easy laugh, chatting with the guys like he wasn’t unknowingly the reason you kept stealing glances.

The cold breeze brushed past your skin, making a few strands of hair fly over your face, you pulled your jacked tighter over you, releasing a slow breath through your nose but your eyes still wandering towards that one certain curly haired boy you just couldn't resist as much as you tried.

You’d liked him for a while now safe to say but quietly. Hopelessly.

"Walk with your brain elsewhere, you're for sure to crash into a pole."

You flinched hard at the sound of that deep, rich voice, as if someone poured a cold bucket of ice on you, jerking you away from your thoughts.

You turned to see Hyunjin casually walking along with you, his hands slipped into the pockets of his pants, that smug smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

"I was walking fine," you muttered, rolling your eyes at him, turning your focus back to the street, following the guys, glancing around at the nightlife.

"Hmm," Hyunjin hummed, his gaze still on you from the corners of his eyes but walking nonchalantly, his height itself a distraction.

Goodness as if one man hasn't already taken over your thoughts. But...it's not wrong to like two men at once right?

"Well, it's not like you're dating Chan anyway."

The voice in the back of your mind said, when another intervened, "What happened to loyalty?'

Shut up.

You muttered that louder than intended, making Hyunjin arch a brow at you.

"Sorry I—" you stuttered. Gosh girl you're an embarrassment aren't you?

The voices in your head just wouldn't shut up.

"These guys are just walking this far for no reason." Hyunjin said, looking straight at Jisung and Felix who were already arguing about the menu, then halted suddenly.

"Wanna take a shortcut with me?" He asked, cocking his head to a sketchy looking alley.

One look down the alley and it was clear, it was dimly lit, tucked between a department store and some old boutique hotel, and absolutely not where the rest of the group was headed.

You hesitated.

But Hyunjin just stood there, hands still in his pockets, watching you with a lazy, almost amused curiosity.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice low, the kind that vibrated through your spine instead of your ears. “It loops back to the main street. I’ve taken it before.”

You looked up the sidewalk. Chan was still walking ahead, shoulders bouncing lightly as he laughed at something Changbin said. He didn’t even look back.

You met Hyunjin's gaze and before your brain protested, you were walking into the dimly lit street with him.

He didn't say anything, the world behind you dimmed, swallowed by the narrow corridor and the gentle thud of your boots on the pavement. It was quiet here, save for the hum of a neon hotel sign and the distant honk of a taxi somewhere nearby.

You tucked your hands into your sleeves, feeling the warmth of Hyunjin’s presence just beside you. Neither of you spoke at first. Not until—

“Chris doesn’t know, does he?”

You turned toward him sharply, heart lurching. “Know what?”

Hyunjin chuckled, low and dry. “That you look at him like that.”

Your throat went dry. You opened your mouth to say something then closed it, opened it again before your teeth dug into your bottom lip.

All you had to do was deny it. Just say, "What are you talking about?", but your silence spoke louder than your words could have.

“It’s cute,” Hyunjin added, hands still casually stuffed in his pockets, eyes ahead like he hadn’t just read you like a book. “You think he hasn’t noticed, but trust me. We’re guys. We notice.”

"Hyunjin," you warned him, unsure what you were warning him against.

How can your heart long for two guys at once? It felt wrong but well Cupid's been feeling bored apparently so you're his victim this time.

Your pulse picked up. You didn’t like where this was going—until Hyunjin's earlier words hit—"Walk with your brain elsewhere, you're for sure to crash into a pole."

Then suddenly, a cart, metal, greasy and loud came rolling out of nowhere from a side garage. You didn’t even see it in time. One second you were walking calmly with your thoughts elsewhere with Hyunjin, the next you stumbled sideways, heart shooting into your throat as the cart clipped your boot.

You braced to fall—Oh god, oh god—

—but Hyunjin caught you.

His arms slipped around your waist just in time, holding you just inches from the cold pavement. You clutched at his chest for balance, your faces close— way too close.

You could feel his breath on your cheek, see the faint mole under his eye, watch the amusement in his eyes flicker into something deeper. His fingers didn’t move. His hold didn’t loosen.

"Thanks." You let out a laugh. Nervous. Short. He didn’t laugh.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice softer now, lower. You nodded, but your eyes hadn’t moved from his. Neither had his from yours.

His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face, the fingertips tracing a line on your jaw as the thumb touched your bottom lip.

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from his sculptured features and those killing eyes that looked straight into your soul.

Hyunjin leaned in and your breath caught.

His hand slid to the small of your back, his forehead brushing yours—and your brain screamed Chan, no, yes, what are you doing—

You turned your head, just in time.

“Wait,” you breathed out. “You’re… aren’t you with Jiwoo or something?”

His lips barely halted. His brow twitched in mild irritation, like he’d been pulled from a trance. Then he huffed a laugh. “Jiwoo? God no. I don’t know why everyone thinks that.”

He pulled back, just slightly. His hands were still on you. You could still feel where he’d held you.

And suddenly, you weren’t thinking about Chan. You were thinking about Hyunjin’s lips and how close they were. How soft he looked. How sharp he felt.

Your hands pressed on his chest, you could have sworn you felt his heart thudding behind his ribcage. You licked your lips before they parted, as if you invited him yourself.

You kissed him.

It was warm. Deep. Pillow-soft with the kind of careful hunger that left you gasping for air. He tasted like cinnamon gum and the thrill of a bad idea.

And you broke it first.

“We can’t,” you whispered, wiping your lips. “We'll get caught.”

"No one is going to catch us baby," he said lowly before capturing your lips again this time, half harshly half gently, slipping his tongue past yours, angling your head to let himself get more access.

Your hands fisted his hoodie, not stopping him, pressing your body against him, not knowing the world was blurring around you and not knowing a pair of familiar eyes witnessed something you wish they didn't.

You could feel every line of him against you—his warmth, his breath, his hunger. But suddenly… you felt cold.

Like being watched. You pulled away. Hyunjin opened his eyes slowly, like he’d just woken from a dream. “Why’d you stop?” he whispered, still close enough for your noses to brush.

You glanced at the entrance of the alle, hoping to catch someone, but that feeling of being watched disappeared as quickly as it formed.

"We should go," you said, your voice quieter than you meant, barely audible over the faint city hum.

Hyunjin looked at you, his jaw slackening just a little as he took in the shift, the sudden cold behind your eyes. His gaze searched yours for something, maybe permission to keep going, maybe an explanation… but you were already turning away.

“Yeah,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he followed behind.

Eventually you made it to the restaurant, right on time before they all entered, almost nobody had noticed your brief disappearance.

You tried to play it cool and went close to Felix and Han, politely starting a conversation with them to get away, to distract your mind from two guys who had your brain lagging.

You didn’t look at Hyunjin, didn't dare to, but you felt him. The weight of his gaze. The silent question in it.

He took a seat two chairs down, next to Changbin, his jaw clenched and tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he dropped into the chair a little harder than necessary.

Then Chan, who was looking at you but wasn’t smiling. His brows weren’t furrowed in anger, either. No, his expression was calm. Too calm.

His gaze was steady and unreadable, but just behind his soft brown irises, there was something hollow.

Your gut feeling of being watched was right. He did see you. But your mind was way too fogged with the remnants of the kiss and chatter of the guys around you to ask how.

The conversation at the table rose and dipped around you like waves, but you were drowning in it, barely able to answer Han when he asked if you were going to share dessert later.

Hyunjin hadn’t said a word.

Chan hadn’t looked at you again.

So you sat there, between the two boys you couldn’t stop thinking about, pretending like your heart wasn’t wrecked over both of them in different, equally devastating ways.

~

The week after the dinner passed by in a blur, mostly because you distracted yourself with assignments, classes and the gym.

At the beginning it seemed fun that you shared a few classes with guys but now after the tension rising between you, Chan and Hyunjin at the restaurant that night, you cursed the universe for putting the three of you in the same class.

And for making your professor group you into working together for a project.

"I'll do my part and text you when I'm done," Hyunjin said, typing away on his phone, not bothering to look up at you or Chan, before he walked out of the classroom.

Your heart sank like someone had thrown it in the ocean tied to a stone.

You could hear the quiet shuffle of his bag, the creak of his chair, and the sound of your own breath as you avoided his eyes and stacked your notes with trembling fingers.

“I can drop you home,” he said after a beat. His voice was gentle, casual, too casual for how it curled under your skin and made your stomach flip.

You looked at Chan, feeling tired to protest so you gently nodded, smiling, walking along with him outside the class towards the parking lot.

The car ride was quiet. Rain drizzled lightly outside, streaking across the windshield as city lights blurred into soft golds and reds.

You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, fiddling with the strap of your bag, acutely aware of the space between you.

Chan had one hand on the wheel, the other drumming absentmindedly against his thigh, and his jaw was set like he was chewing back something.

You wondered if he was avoiding your eyes because he didn’t want you to see what they’d say. Or maybe, you were the one who wasn’t ready to listen.

You finally broke. “Are you alright?”

Chan didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained fixed on the road. Then he muttered, "I am."

Your heart sank deeper, so many emotions raging inside your body, you wanted to scream, to run away, to cry? You didn't know, it just felt overwhelming.

"Why are you being cold?" You asked gently, your voice almost blended with the sound of the quiet engine.

He didn’t answer at first.

The only sound in the car was the rhythmic swipe of the windshield wipers and the hum of the tires gliding along the wet asphalt.

His jaw flexed once. Twice. Then he exhaled, like he’d been holding something in for far too long.

“I’m not,” he said finally, but it was the kind of answer someone gave when they didn’t want to explain the storm behind it.

“Yes, you are,” you whispered. “You haven’t looked at me the same since—”

"I'm just tired, okay? That's it." His tone was sharp but it felt cruel, a sound you never heard from him and that sliced your heart into shreds.

You weren’t sure what hurt more—the sharpness of his voice, or the fact that he couldn’t even look at you when he said it.

"Oh," you said finally, your voice so small you weren’t sure if it was even audible over the low hum of the car.

Chan rubbed a hand over his face, breathing out slowly like he regretted the way it came out but didn’t know how to take it back. His eyes stayed forward, watching the rain trickle down the windshield in lazy streaks.

“I didn’t mean that,” he muttered, but it sounded forced.

"You don’t have to lie, you know," you said quietly, almost to the window instead of him. "If you’re mad at me, just be mad."

"I’m not mad." His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

You looked at him, at the way his lashes cast soft shadows over his cheek, the way his lips pressed into a flat, unreadable line.

You felt your heart drop. Like the air had left the car completely. Your fingernails bit into your palms as you stared down at your lap, fighting the sting in your eyes.

He finally reached your apartment. The car rolled to a slow stop in front of your building, headlights casting pale yellow light across the front step. You undid your seatbelt quietly, the soft click almost deafening in the silence between you.

You didn’t move to get out. Neither did he.Your hand hovered near the door handle, and then...paused. You looked at him again, giving him a small, broken smile and opened the door.

The cold night air rushed in. You stepped out.

"Thanks for the ride." You didn’t look back when you closed the door. Didn’t see the way Chan stared at the empty passenger seat long after you disappeared behind your building door.

He never told you he saw.

And maybe that was the part that would haunt you most.

~

"Yeah, he said the flight is..." The corridor was buzzing with the sound of students walking past each other, conversations and then morning rush filling the air.

You made it to uni looking like you had quite a night—swollen lips, puffy eyes, pink cheeks.

Have you been crying all night? Yes.

As you turned the corner into the open student lounge area, your steps faltered. There they were. Chan and Hyunjin.

Leaning casually against the vending machine counter, steaming takeout coffees in hand, mid-conversation like nothing was wrong.

Like your heart hadn’t been flipped, twisted, wrung out over and over for the past week.

Chan laughed softly at something Hyunjin said, his dimple flashing faintly as he sipped his coffee. Hyunjin, was in his usual oversized bomber, leaned back on his elbows, head tilted with that same relaxed charm he always carried.

Their eyes flicked up. Both pairs met yours.

You just stood there, half asleep, your hand clutching the strap of your bag, the hood and a few strands of hair covering your face.

"What happened to you?" Hyunjin asked, masking a playful teasing tone that felt distantly familiar. You arched an eyebrow at him then rolled your eyes, taking in a deep breath.

"Just spent the night finishing my part of the project. We can hand it in today."

You said, trying your best to hide the fact that you had been crying over two guys that drove you to insanity but they were here, sipping coffee like it was another normal day.

It was a normal day. Your hormones are well—when are the hormones ever kind right?

Hyunjin blinked at your response, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a lazy smirk. “Damn,” he said, drawing out the word as he took another sip of coffee.

“And here I was thinking you just decided to cry over us.” Your heart stopped, your breath catching in your throat you almost choked on it.

You huffed a dry laugh, brushing past it. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Chan didn’t say anything. Not at first. He was looking at the floor, his cup halfway to his lips, taking another sip.

Then he looked back at Hyunjin and said, "We should celebrate. We’re finally done with that damn thing."

Your brows lifted in surprise.

Hyunjin turned toward Chan, a brow arched, almost as if he was waiting for him to say more, but when he didn’t, Hyunjin grinned and shrugged. "Yeah. Our place tonight?"

You hesitated. For a second, no longer than a breath.

Your gut screamed: don’t do it.

Your heart whispered: go.

“Sure,” you said. “If there’s snacks.”

Chan gave a breath of a laugh. “I’ll get them.”

You hated how it made your chest flutter. You hated how effortlessly he could undo you.

"Come after seven," Hyunjin added, tapping his phone screen, already texting something you assumed was details or some silly group chat. "Don’t be late."

And just like that, the conversation moved on. They resumed their back-and-forth about professors, and why Minho had ghosted the group chat again.

But you… you stayed quiet. Your head was already spiraling. Because tonight, you were going to walk into their apartment, their space. After everything.

After the kiss.

After the silence.

***

The TV played some nameless reality show, the table spread out with Chinese takeout and Soju.

Thank god tomorrow is a Saturday.

You had finished your share of noodles, accompanied with a few dumplings and a pudding, and now your mind was all groggy after a few sips of alcohol.

Your alcohol tolerance was quite low, so even just a few shots of soju was enough to have you tipsy.

The half cold, half bitter liquid ran down your throat as you chugged it down mixed with coke, your chest heaving in a loud breath.

Chan glanced at you then at Hyunjin who was watching you concerned. Chan leaned forward, taking the glass away from you and pushing the alcohol bottles back.

"That's enough," he said, his voice almost like it was floating past your head. "You've drank a lot."

You tried to open your eyes to look at him, but they struggled and you smiled lazily, blinking slowly.

"I only had one si—sip," you hiccuped, sounding like you weren't tipsy but actually drunk.

Hyunjin moved first. He rose from his spot beside the coffee table, his long fingers curling gently around your wrist as he crouched beside you. His touch was careful, almost hesitant—like you were fragile, and one wrong move would shatter you completely.

“Here,” he said quietly, holding a glass of water out to you. You blinked at him again, unfocused and soft, but your fingers reached for the glass. Your hand barely wrapped around it before he helped you lift it to your lips.

The water felt cool, grounding, but it did nothing to stop the heat prickling beneath your skin. The one brought on not by the soju, but by them.

Hyunjin's eyes didn’t leave your face as you took a few sips. Neither did Chan’s. You could feel his stare, burning into your side like a silent question.

“Good girl,” Hyunjin muttered under his breath, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

The words slid over you like silk.

“Thaaank youuu,” you whispered with a lopsided smile, letting out a small breath as Hyunjin set the glass down.

Your head leaned slightly toward him like your body was betraying the secret you had shoved deep down all week.

His hand came up to steady you, fingers brushing your jaw as your eyelids fluttered shut for a moment.

"Careful," Chan said, still watching, voice tight.

You turned your head slowly toward Chan, eyes hooded and lips parted, your voice a whisper, not from nerves, but from truth.

"I want both of you."

The room went still.

The TV still played in the background, the sound of someone crying over burnt rice or a missed love confession. But here, in this dimly lit apartment, it was like time hit pause.

Hyunjin froze, his body supporting your lazy form, laying on the side of his chest.

Chan stared, his lips parted slightly, brows drawing together like he was trying to figure out if he heard you right or if it was just the alcohol talking.

But you didn’t stop talking.

"I want you both. At the same time," you repeated, slower this time, the words tasting like warmth and shame and something heavier, like relief.

"Hyunjin…" you turned toward him. "You kissed me like you meant it."

Then to Chan. "But you…Chan...God, you look at me like you already know how I fall apart."

Neither of them said a word. Just stared at each other then at you, your half limp body laid on Hyunjin.

"Sweetheart," Chan started softly, like he was talking to a child, "You've had too much, you need to rest."

"But I haven't!" You squeaked, lifting your body up and falling into Chan's arms who caught you with a blink of an eye, arms strong and steady.

"I tried not to ruin things. I tried to choose. But—but the truth is…I—I don’t want to."

Your face pressed to his chest, your fingers tangled in the soft fabric of his shirt, and his scent wrapped around you like a sigh.

Chan’s jaw tensed above you, but he didn’t say anything. His hand just rubbed slow, reassuring circles over your back.

Hyunjin looked at the two of you, his heart clenching with something so painfully close to possessiveness, but he kept his guard down, only focusing on your words that kept slipping out.

"I...I ruined us didn't I...?" You slurred, half sleepy, half drunk, turning to see Hyunjin through your hazy vision.

There was silence. Not the kind that hurts but the kind that listens.

"No baby," Hyunjin's hand cupped your cheek, his eyes were impossibly soft, "You didn't ruin anything." He whispered.

You leaned into Hyunjin's hand, your body sagging onto Chan's, taking a slow deep breath as your eyes fluttered close then opened.

"I want you both so...so...bad."

Chan exhaled slowly, his breath warming your temple. "You’re drunk, sweetheart," he murmured again, softer this time. "We’re not going to take advantage of that."

Your chest squeezed painfully at his words, because of course he was right. Of course he would be the one to stay grounded when your world was spinning.

You could feel Hyunjin watching, but you didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes again.

"But I need, hmmf," you tilted your head up, slightly enough to meet Chan's gaze.

"You...and..," you looked at Hyunjin, "...and you..."

Your finger lifted clumsily between them both, like a declaration with no rules, no permission asked. Hyunjin leaned forward slowly, as if every inch toward you cost him restraint.

His hand, still cupping your cheek, brushed his thumb gently beneath your eye. "You’re not thinking clearly right now, angel," he said, voice tender. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

But you did.

"I do,” you murmured, softer now, eyes glistening, your lips barely moving. "I like how you," you gazed up at Chan again, "how you keep me so safe and make me feel loved and," you met Hyunjin's face, "how you want to kill anyone who gets or is too close to me..."

Chan looked at Hyunjin. Hyunjin looked at Chan.

It wasn’t a stare of rivalry, it was something heavier. Like they were silently measuring each other’s resolve. Respect. History. And the girl resting in Chan’s arms like she belonged there, yet aching for Hyunjin’s touch like she needed that too.

Chan sighed through his nose, his large hand soothing up and down your back. “You’re drunk, baby. You’re saying what your heart wants, but your body can’t keep up with it tonight.”

“I can,” you mumbled, but your limbs betrayed you, barely holding their shape anymore, going soft against him like putty.

Hyunjin chuckled at your stubbornness, brushing the hair away from your temple. "No, you can’t and that’s okay."

There was no sarcasm in his tone. No teasing.

Only care. Only longing.

And the bitter sweetness of holding back.

Chan shifted slightly beneath you, readjusting your weight so he could cradle you better. “You’re going to sleep in my bed tonight. We’ll be here when you wake up. Nothing more.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “We heard you. Every word.”

Hyunjin stood up, walking over to open the door to Chan's bedroom and Chan slowly stood up as well, carrying you in his arms and this time your body fully gave up.

Chan gently laid you on the mattress and Hyunjin pulled the sheets over you, turning on the AC, the both of them watching the rise and fall of your chest, the soft curve of your hand curled against the pillow, your lips parted like you’d fallen asleep mid-sentence.

They walked out of his bedroom, in dreadful silence, closing the door gently behind them.

"She meant it," Hyunjin said quietly, voice low.

"I know," Chan replied. "The moment I saw you kiss her."

Hyunjin stiffened slightly. "You think I didn’t know?" Chan gave a sad smile, shaking his head. "I knew already. And I didn’t stop it, either."

Hyunjin looked down. "Because you like her too."

"Yeah,” Chan breathed out, fingers curling into a gentle fist. "And I think… I think she loves us both."

There was a pause, heavy with things unsaid. Questions, boundaries, the slow realization that they were both walking the same tightrope.

"…So what do we do now?" Hyunjin finally asked. Chan turned to look at him, serious but soft. "We wait. Let her wake up sober. If she still wants this tomorrow—"

"We give her everything," Hyunjin finished.

Chan nodded once.

And they both meant it.

***

The sheets rustled as you turned, a strangely familiar scent invading your senses as you stirred awake.

Sunlight filtered through pale curtains, casting a soft glow across the unfamiliar space. The scent that lingered in the air was clean laundry, coffee...and them.

You blinked again.

Not your bedroom. The room was bigger, tidier, and a desk pushed up against the wall—books, headphones, hoodies strewn across them in patterns you’d come to recognise far too well. Your heart skipped.

Chan and Hyunjin’s apartment.

"I want both of you."

You sat up sharply, eyes widening.

Memories came crashing back like waves. The confession. The way Chan looked at you—serious, protective. The way Hyunjin touched your face like he was afraid you’d vanish if he blinked. And the heat that simmered between the three of you, ready to boil over.

The door creaked open.

Your head snapped in that direction and then promptly forgot how to function.

There stood Hyunjin in black shorts and tank top that clung just a little too well to his torso, tousled hair falling into his eyes. Behind him came Chan, also dressed in a tank top and shorts, coffee mugs in hand.

He looked warm. Effortlessly devastating.

Hyunjin smirked. “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

Chan chuckled behind him, his voice deep and smooth.

You swallowed hard, feeling a slight pulse in the back of your head. Hyunjin set a tray on the bedside table—toast, and a tiny bowl of strawberries and Chan set the mugs down beside the tray, looking at you.

"Why don't you freshen up?" Chan said softly, "Here," he walked over to his wardrobe and grabbed one of his oversized t-shirts.

Your fingers curled around the fabric Chan handed you—warm, soft, and smelling unmistakably like him. You blinked up at him, your heart caught somewhere between your throat and your stomach.

He wasn’t teasing. Neither of them were.

Hyunjin gave you a faint smile, softer than his usual smirks. “There's a toothbrush in the drawers. Take your time. We’ll be right here.”

You nodded slowly, hugging the tee to your chest as you padded into their bathroom. The moment the door shut, your chest heaved with a quiet breath.

Everything felt real now. No alcohol haze. No what-ifs. Just you—and the two men outside waiting like they’d already decided.

You rinsed your face with cool water, trying to calm the heat under your skin. But even that couldn’t dull the pulse steadily building between your legs. Not when their buff frames had your knees weak.

You slipped out of your clothes and bra, putting on the tee over your head. It fell easily over your frame, soft against your skin, the sleeves a bit too long, the length falling mid thigh.

You didn’t bother with pants. You didn’t want to. When you opened the door again and walked into the bedroom, both of them looked up from where they sat at each edge of the bed.

“I told you,” Hyunjin murmured, tilting his head toward Chan. “She makes it look better than you ever did.”

Chan let out a low hum of agreement, standing. He crossed to you in two easy steps.

“You okay?” Chan asked gently.

You nodded, your throat dry. “Just… feels surreal.”

“Still thinking about last night?” Hyunjin asked, but there was no teasing in his tone this time, just genuine curiosity.

You looked at him, then at Chan, both their eyes were on you. And for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty for wanting both. “I meant when I said it,” you said quietly. “I want you both. I still do.”

A grin painted Chan's face as he kneeled in front of you, his hands sliding slowly up your bare thighs under the tee, “If we do this,” he murmured, “you don’t get to hide from us after. Not emotionally. Not physically.”

“O—okay,” you whispered, your voice slightly shaking.

A shiver ran straight down your spine, your thighs instinctively pressing together, but Chan’s hands were already there, gently parting them again.

You gasped when his thumbs brushed the edge of your panties, feeling just how wet and warm you’d gotten already.

He stood up, placing his hand on the small of your back, guiding you back to the bed. The mattress dipped beneath your weights as you sat down, Hyunjin who was sitting in front of you leaned into your ear.

"That means when we fuck you,” he whispered, “we fuck you like you’re ours. Got it?"

You nodded, swallowing hard as you felt Hyunjin's face brush against your cheek.

“Lay back for us,” Chan said, standing and guiding you gently down onto the bed. “Let us take care of you.”

You laid back slowly, your heart thudding beneath your ribs, nerves dancing under your skin.

The moment your back hit the sheets, Hyunjin’s hands slid up the inside of your thighs with practiced ease, his gaze hooded, hungry—but beneath it, a glint of something warmer.

Chan hovered at your side, his fingertips brushing your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he whispered, “we’re not going anywhere.”

Hyunjin pushed the tee up, revealing your pink lacy panties, a damp patch clinging onto your pussylips, the musky scent of your arousal driving up his senses.

“So soaked already,” he muttered, voice rough with approval.

He traced his long finger over the fabric, teasing your entrance, making you whimper, the muscles in your thighs tensing under his touch.

"Baby... look at me," Chan tilted your face, making you look into his eyes, his lips brushing over your cheeks, jawline, the corner of your eye before capturing them fully into his mouth.

You moaned softly into him, heat blooming through your stomach, your body exposed beneath their eyes.

Hyunjin's lips brushed over your hip bone, sucking a bruise into your skin, kissing every part of you he uncovered before focusing back on your clothed cunt.

He spread your legs with ease, sliding your panties to the side and pressed his mouth into your pussy, your gasp into Chan's mouth shattered the stillness.

He licked a slow, teasing stripe through your folds, groaning into you like he was starving. The grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you spread open for his mouth while his tongue moved with deliberate pressure.

Your hips bucked, pleasure shooting up your spine. Chan pulled back, leaving your lips swollen and slick from his kisses.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice like silk and gravel. “So responsive. You like how Hyunjin tastes you, huh?”

You could only nod, breathless, moaning as Hyunjin flattened his tongue and sucked on your clit.

Chan's fingers traced your breasts, circling the buds over his tee till they peaked, making them strain against the fabric, your hips shifted for more friction from below.

"You taste so sweet baby," Hyunjin murmured against your sloppy, went cunt, his chin soaked with your arousal, thrusting his tongue right into making you arch.

"That's it... Let him ruin you baby," Chan praised you, his mouth wrapping around your erect nipple while his free hand pinch and played with the other; God, this felt so good.

Too good.

Both Chan's and Hyunjin's cocks were fighting for freedom behind their shorts, the bulging and the throbbing of it now impossible to ignore.

"I— I need," you cried, your voice cutting short when Hyunjin's fingers slipped in with ease from how wet you were, curling them just right as he hit that spot making your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

Your thighs trembled violently now, muscles twitching under Hyunjin’s grip as he drove his fingers in deeper, tongue working relentlessly over your clit in tight, rhythmic circles.

"Fuck—Hyun," you whimpered, legs instinctively trying to close, but his hands pinned you wide open.

"Stay still, sweetheart," Chan cooed, voice syrup-slick as he leaned in again, capturing your lips, swallowing your moans like he was starving for them. “Let him make you come. You’re almost there, aren’t you?”

You nodded, helplessly grinding down against Hyunjin’s face, chasing the climax that was building like a storm under your skin.

Hyunjin growled low against you, the vibration making you cry out as he licked into you harder, deeper, matching the pace of his fingers.

“She’s dripping,” he mumbled, tongue curling along your folds, "You’re fucking perfect like this."

One of your hands fisted the sheets while the other clung onto Chan's bicep, his fingers now continuing to play with your nipples, after leaving his bruising trail of hickeys, marking himself on your chest.

Chan's hand moved from your breast to stroke your jaw, tilting your face so your teary eyes met his. “That’s it. You’re doing so good for us, baby,” he whispered. “Let go. Give it to him.”

And you did.

The orgasm hit so hard, it shattered you. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, back arching clean off the bed, thighs locking around Hyunjin’s head as he kept licking you through it, drawing out every trembling second.

Your body convulsed, hot fat tears sliding down the corners of your eyes as the waves rolled and rolled. Chan held you through it, petting your hair, grounding you, whispering praises you could barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears.

You shook so hard that when Hyunjin pulled back from your pussy, he whimpered at the loss of legging it go, but had to give you time to recover from how much you came.

When your body went slack, Hyunjin leaned up, his eyes wild, meeting Chan’s gaze across your body.

“She’s ready now,” he said, voice rough, pupils blown. Chan’s gaze dropped to you, checking for something—any hesitation—but all he saw was the blissed-out desperation still lingering on your face, your lips parted, chest heaving, legs trembling.

The gentle restraint on Chan's face snapped when his eyes met Hyunjin's with a devilish smirk, he leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead before whispering, "This is going to be hard. Fast. Soul crushing and we are going to ruin you."

Your eyes were glassy, every nerve ending in your body on fire as you squealed at Chan's growl. "Tell us or tap on us if it's too much and we will stop, but you better take everything we give you like the good little slut you are."

And that was the last of the gentleness you saw of Chan before he nodded at Hyunjin, removing his tee off of you and flipped you onto your stomach.

The both of them got off the bed, the syncing sound of the clinks of their belts echoing together as they shredded their pants, revealing their now impossibly hard cocks, heavy against their abs, thick and leaking beady drops of pre cum.

You took one look at their sizes and you knew you wouldn't make it out with the ability to walk after today.

You're definitely taking a sick leave for the week.

Hyunjin's hand cupped your face, carnal urges taking over his brain to just fuck you senseless already and Chan moved to the other side, ripping your panties and squeezing the flesh of your ass before giving it a sharp slap! making you gasp.

"Get on your hands and knees," he growled his command, and you did, slowly getting up with your face still in Hyunjin's grasp.

Hyunjin traced his thumb over your bottom lip, pushing it into your mouth, his other hand fisting his leaking cock, so long and proud, the tip flushing red and a long vein running underneath, you swallowed hard as you registered the position you were in.

"Suck," you already were before the world left his mouth, greedily sucking on his thumb, your cheeks flushed hot.

Chan lined himself between your legs, his thumb smearing your wetness before tracing the thick head of his cock against your entrance making you inhale a sharp breath.

"Relax angel..." Chan's voice dropped an octave, "just relax." He muttered, holding your hips as he pushed the thick length of his cock past your tight walls.

"Open your mouth," Hyunjin growled, pulling his thumb out. Your mouth fell open and he pushed his cock in, the warmth wrapping around his shaft until your nose pressed against the faint trail of hair.

"Holy fuck—" Chan gritted through his teeth. "She's fucking tight," he pushed all the way in, his cock sitting snug inside you and letting your gummy walls adjust to him, he felt like he could come the very second.

"What a slut, look at her." Hyunjin's voice was strained as he held your jaw, beginning to fuck his cock into your mouth while Chan pulled back enough to let the tip tease your entrance once more before slamming back in.

Tears leaked from your eyes, drooling dribbling down from the corners of your mouth and your juices coating Chan's cock, you were getting fucked from the front and back by the two men who showed zero signs of mercy in bed.

You were choking on Hyunjin's length and clenched around Chan, both of them groaning loudly, Chan's fingers holding your waist so tight, his fingers left marks on your skin.

Chan gave one hard thrust into you, pushing you forward, Hyunjin's cock touched the back of your throat, making you gag, his head fell back as he held onto the headboard to brace himself.

"Shit, be gentle with her Chris what the fuck?"

Hyunjin grittted, his chest rising and falling, sweating clinging onto his skin and Chan's hand dipping down your stomach to circle your clit in rough strokes making you shut your eyes and clench him hard.

"She loves it Hyunjin. Look at her, taking two cocks like the needy little slut she is."

You whimpered at his filthy words, no room to breath, hair tangled, skin sweaty and eyes teared up, you were turned on and ruined beyond belief.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, hands fisting the sheets, moans were muffled while getting fucked and choked and their loud groans of pleasure filling the air.

"I might come right now, fuck," Hyunjin panted before pulling his cock out of your mouth, letting you breath, long sticky strings of spit clinging from his length onto your lips.

Oxygen rushed into your lungs but was cut short when another brutal thrust hit you from behind, the tip of Chan's cock touching your cervix ripping a loud cry out of your throat.

"Can't take it sweetheart? Hmm? Should we stop?" Chan cooed, so mean and ruthless, you were too fucked out to make up words so you shook your head.

"That's what I thought."

Hyunjin slipped himself back into your mouth holding your jaw, the tangling the strands of your hair, your tongue traced every ridge and vein of his silky velvet shaft as he rolled his hips forward, making you take it all.

"That's it, sweet angel letting me fuck her pretty mouth like it's mine."

"Mine?" Chan hissed, rubbing your clit in rough circles and slapping your ass again, the stinging pain mixing with pleasure before he growled, "No. She's OURS."

Chan kept thrusting into you, deeper and deeper, brushing that sweet squishy spot in you repeatedly.

Molten lava dripped down his spine as thunder roared in Hyunjin's chest, both of them slamming into you one after another before Chan hit that sensitive spot making you shatter again, your walls squeezing him as you came flooding on his cock.

White warmth spilled down your throat while another load gathered inside your cunt, painting your walls, the two of them filling you up with their cum, using you like a fuck toy, their cocks twitching endlessly inside you.

"Swallow every drop," Hyunjin growled, pulling out of your mouth and you did, feeling the sweet saltiness of his hot load slide down your throat.

Chan pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip out of your wrecked hole, chest heaving and his curls clung onto his forehead.

You lost your balance and almost fell but Chan's hand slipped around your body and caught you. You were lost in worlds beyond pleasure— freshly fucked and completely ruined but by the smirk on Hyunjin's face said they weren't done by a long shot.

"Can you give us one more round sweetheart?" His thumb brushed so gently over your tear stained face, your eyes lashes were damp, your nose and cheeks were flushed.

"One more for us like a good girl?"

Your chest still heaved in heavy breaths, Hyunjin ran his hand through your hair, pushing them away from your face.

"Alright, we'll give you some time to breathe." He said, smiling as if he wasn't about to wreck you again in the next few minutes.

You weren't sure if you could take it anymore. But the way Chan felt inside you and Hyunjin felt down your throat, your lust filled, foggy brain wanted more.

After what was like five minutes, once your breathing was back at a good pace, Chan's eyes met yours again, soft but filled with a beast like hunger that was ready to devour anything that came in his way.

Hyunjin sat behind you, scooping your body, making you sit on his lap before he laid down, his head on the mattress bringing your back flush against his chest.

You felt the hardness of his cock against your ass, your pulse spiking up, anticipation running through every nerve ending as he angled you above him.

Chan hovered over the two of you, his gaze piercing into yours and running down your body, skin peppered with his hickeys and fingerprints, a smug grin tugging his lips.

"Ready for us, angel?"

"Yes," you whispered, and that was all it took.

Hyunjin's fingers found your sensitive, swollen clit, rubbing it in right circles as they dipped down to your entrance, parting your puffy folds before pushing his shaft into you in one deep stroke.

Inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you, groaning between your neck and shoulder. You cried out from the stretch, the fullness, your walls fluttering as you clenched around him.

“Fuck—” Hyunjin hissed, “you are tight.”

Chan came up, his hands skimming your body, squeezing your breasts, mouth pressing to your neck. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered hotly, “you’ll make room for me too.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as Hyunjin’s cock remained unmoving inside you.

Chan watched your face, eyes glazed and no rational thought in his mind. “You’re okay,” Chan murmured against your jaw, kissing it.

“Breathe through it, baby. We’ve got you.”

Hyunjin pressed up, chest pressing to your back as he lined himself up carefully. His lips brushed your ear. “Relax,” he whispered. “Let us in.”

You exhaled, your body trembling from anticipation and pleasure, and slowly, Chan began to push in.

The stretch burned—sharp, a slight sting at first, then full and overwhelming.

Hyunjin grunted beneath you, his hands gripping your waist tighter as Chan filled the remaining space, pushing in inch by inch until he was fully seated, your body now stuffed with both of them.

You could barely breathe. Could barely think anymore.

“You’re doing so fucking well,” Chan whispered. “Taking us like you were made for this.”

“Look at her,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice hoarse. “So full of dick.”

You let out a broken moan, tears springing to your eyes from the intense stretch, the fullness, the feeling of being theirs completely.

They went slow at first. Timed. When Chan pulled back, Hyunjin pushed in—and vice versa. It was a rhythm that had your body shaking, your hands fisting the sheets, your mouth open but speechless from how overpowering it felt.

You were drowning in ecstasy, buried under praise and thrusts and heat and hands.

"God, you’re perfect," Chan groaned, his voice fraying at the edges. "So fucking wet, feel how messy you are, baby?"

“She’s dripping down on me,” Hyunjin answered, filthy and sweet in the same breath. "She likes being fucked dumb by us."

"Is that right?” Chan said, slowing his pace just to grind deep, right into your sweet spot. "You want us to ruin you, pretty girl?"

Your nails dug into the sheets, then into Chan’s shoulders as you tried to hold onto something—anything—but your body wasn’t yours anymore.

It belonged to them. Your mind, your pleasure, your heartbeat, everything was tangled up in the two of them.

They moved in tandem, one pulling out slightly while the other pushed in deeper, never leaving you empty, never letting the pleasure dip for even a second. You cried out as another orgasm crested, sudden and rushing.

The sounds leaving your bodies were sick, obscene, a filthy symphony of flesh on flesh and breathless gasps that made the walls feel too thin for what was happening inside.

“Fuck—Chan—Hyun—” you sobbed, your thighs trembling.

"That's it baby, come for us. Soak these cocks."

Chan kissed you hard, swallowing the sound of your moans. Hyunjin groaned when you clenched around them both, his hand snaking around to rub tight circles against your clit.

“So fucking perfect when you come.”

Their pace picked up, faster, rougher, a perfect storm of pressure and heat and praise. The sound of skin against skin, moans, the slurred mess of your name on both their lips, it was everything.

And then the pressure snapped.

You came with a scream, your whole body convulsing, brain going mush, walls clenching so tightly around them both that they swore under their breaths, holding on through the waves of your orgasm.

Hyunjin was next, thrusting harder as he chased his own edge. "Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna fucking—"

He came with a hiss, buried deep inside you, his grip tight around your hips as he stilled, twitching, his teeth dug into your shoulder from the intensity of how much he released.

Chan wasn’t far behind, pulling you closer, holding your face as he locked eyes with you while he gave one final, deep thrust and spilled thick spurts inside you with a low moan.

You were stuffed full with cock and cum, the white fluid basically leaking from the corners of your cunt, the substance overloaded up in you.

Chan's forehead dropped to yours, sweat-slick skin pressed against you as he panted against your mouth.

All of you trembled through the aftershocks, breathless and wrecked, but Chan quickly braced himself to not collapse on your limp body.

His cock slid out first, then Hyunjin. Chan got up on his knees watching your body utterly used and railed, the two of them pushing you beyond what you thought you could give, only to pull you back to reality and piece you back together.

Chan ran a hand through his sweat damp hair as he got off the bed, walking out of the room into the washroom to grab a warm cloth.

You remained motionless, breathing heavily on top of Hyunjin, who gently moved you to the mattress next to him, his fingers tracing softly over the bite mark he planted on your shoulder and over the hickeys Chan had left.

Chan returned, with a cloth in his hand, getting back on the bed, watching you carefully.

"Let me clean you baby," he said, gently parting your legs to wipe off the evidence he and Hyunjin had left in you.

Hyunjin got off the bed and put on his boxers, running into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

You winced slightly at the first swipe of the cloth, your body so oversensitive, pussy swollen, raw and tender in every sense of the word. But Chan’s touch was gentle and reverent.

"Sorry," he murmured, brushing a hand over your thigh. "Almost done, sweetheart."

You didn’t say anything, your throat felt thick, your limbs heavy, but not in a bad way. Your heart was full and you felt like you were floating.

Chan finished and tossed the cloth into the laundry basket nearby, his eyes scanning your body like he was memorizing you in this quiet, wrecked state.

His hand cupped your cheek softly, thumb brushing the dampness under your eye you hadn’t realized was still there.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low. A whisper between the two of you.

"Yeah..." you nodded slowly. "But I think I'm going to be sore for like a week."

Chan chuckled as Hyunjin returned, kneeling beside the bed with a glass of water. His brows softened as he saw you trying to sit up.

“Hey, no,” he said softly, helping you rest against the pillows instead. “Drink first.”

He held the glass to your lips, and you took small sips, feeling the cool water calm your dry throat after that much screaming.

You looked between them, voice quiet. "Are you both okay?"

Hyunjin gave a soft laugh, a little out of breath still. "I think you broke me, but in a good way.'

Chan reached forward to brush a small peck on your lips. “We’re okay, baby. Just making sure that you are.”

The two of them climbed back on the bed, one on either side of you, sandwiching you between their strong chests.

"Gonna spend the day with us today?" Hyunjin asked teasingly, his voice smooth as he pressed his lips on your temple.

"I don't feel like leaving you both," you mumbled sleepily, and they both chuckled.

“Good,” Chan said, rubbing slow circles on your thigh. “You’re not going anywhere from us.”

You exhaled a slow breath, melting into them completely. You were held between the two boys who had unknowingly tangled their way into your heart, body sore, lips kiss-swollen, a soft ache between your legs, but still you smiled wide.

Because you didn’t feel wrong anymore.

You felt wanted.

You felt theirs.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @greyyeti @sammhisphere

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[hwangjoanna]

'Hack Into My Heart'

Nerdy IT Guy/Hyunjin X CEO Boss/Reader | Office Romance AU I MDNI 18+ | Colleagues to Lovers I Slow Burn | Power Dynamics | Awkward | Angst | Love I Smut

Beneath a composed exterior, the company's powerful CEO Y/N thrives on control until a sudden cyberattack threatens to bring her entire empire crashing down. With her life's work on the line, she turns to the only person who might save it: Hyunjin, the quiet and awkward but brilliant I.T. technician. In the glow of midnight monitors, unspoken tension simmers between them as Hyunjin works tirelessly to unravel the hack, his steady hands and sharp mind battling the digital enemy. Yet it's the closeness of his determined, captivating boss that sends his heart racing. Y/n watches this soft-spoken genius pour himself into protecting her company, and with each passing hour she glimpses the passionate soul behind his shy exterior. As firewalls fall, so do the walls around their hearts.

Warnings - MDNI 18+, Swearing, Angst, Awkwardness, Mutual Pining, Power Dynamics, Smut, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, Jealous Sex, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink, Use of Pet-names, SoftDom/ Hyunjin, Sub/Reader, Unprotected Sex.

A/N - This is the fourth and final part of this story please read the first three parts!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Y/N POV

You don’t want to go.

The meeting’s over. The arrangements have been made. Jeongin sent you a quick confirmation message, Chris has a table booked at some place downtown with a wine list longer than its menu and a view he’ll probably talk about to make himself seem romantic.

You should be used to this.

You’ve had a thousand lunches with men like Chris.

Men who smile too much. Who look at you like you’re a negotiation. Who don’t say what they mean because they assume you won’t either.

Your heels are steady as you walk toward the elevator.

Your phone in one hand and bag in the other. Mind already rehearsing the words you’ll say when Chris inevitably leans in too close, when he drops your name like a flirtation, when he asks you something he shouldn’t.

You turn the corner and nearly stop in your tracks.

Hyunjin’s coming from the east hallway, a folder tucked under his arm, a hoodie back on, and hair tied low at the nape of his neck.

He sees you instantly but he doesn’t smile and doesn’t say a word, and that is worse than if he had said anything.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

Hyunjin doesn’t ask where the lunch is happening. He doesn’t need to.

Some rooftop restaurant, probably. Polished floors. Crystal glasses. A waiter who calls you miss and unfolds your napkin for you. Chris probably wears that same damn smirk, ordering for you before you have a chance to speak.

Hyunjin sits at his desk but he’s not working, he’s too busy thinking about what it might look like.

You, sitting across from Chris in that fitted blazer, eyes sharp, spine straight. Elegant. Always. Even when you’re pretending not to care.

Chris, leaning too far over the table. Saying things with his eyes that don’t belong in daylight. Laughing too loud. Brushing your hand just barely when he passes you the wine list.

He thinks, would you smile?

Do you remember that someone else kissed you only nights ago, held your bare skin like it was made of glass, whispered good girl not to provoke, but to actually mean it?

Hyunjin presses his palms into his thighs to stop them from shaking. He doesn’t want to be angry but the jealousy crawls in anyway.

He tells himself he trusts you. He does but that doesn’t quiet the ache that sits heavy in his ribs when he thinks about Chris saying something just suggestive enough, and you laughing, not because it’s funny, but because it’s easier than making a scene.

He wonders if you’ll tell him about it later or if you’ll say it didn’t mean anything while looking away.

If he’ll kiss you again tonight and taste someone else on your lips.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

The restaurant is beautiful, of course it is.

Soft piano playing from somewhere in the corner, glass windows overlooking the skyline, waiters in black ties gliding between tables like shadows. A place built for deals, not comfort.

Chris arrives five minutes late. Also expected.

His suit is darker than before, no jacket now, just crisp white sleeves and gold at the cuff. His smile is the same one he wore in the boardroom. Charming. Sharp. Performed.

“You look incredible,” he says as he pulls out your chair.

You don’t flinch. You just offer a polite nod. “You’re late.” You say, sternly.

“And you’re more stunning than usual. Balance.” He smirks as he takes his seat.

The wine appears. He orders for both of you. You don’t stop him. You’re already cataloguing every move.

He asks about the breach. About the security protocol. About things he already knows as you both eat your food.

Then he leans in slightly, swirling his glass, and says, “You trust that guy in IT?”

Your jaw tightens. “Hyunjin’s brilliant.” You say, confidently.

“That’s not what I asked.” He retorts.

You meet his gaze then, “I trust him,” you say. “Completely.”

He looks you over for a moment but you can tell it’s not because he finds you attractive, it’s because he’s calculating. You’ve played this game before. He’s not here for updates. He’s here to test boundaries.

“Good to know,” he says after a second. “You seemed close in the meeting.”

You take a slow sip of wine. “You seem insecure.” You say but it’s cutting.

That gets a quiet chuckle out of him, the kind that says touché but he doesn’t let it go.

“I just think you deserve someone who can match you,” he says, voice silked in flattery. “Someone who doesn’t hide behind keyboards and dark corners.”

You set your glass down carefully. “And I think you mistake silence for weakness.” You reply.

His smile falters, just a little.

The waiter comes with the bill and Chris pays without asking, As you go to stand he holds out his hand but you don’t take it. When you walk out together, he leans in to kiss your cheek but you turn so he kisses nothing but air.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

When you get back to your office, you feel sick. Not because of Chris but because you hate knowing that Hyunjin didn’t speak to you before you left.

Then, you realise, you didn’t speak to him and maybe you should have. He doesn’t know Chris, doesn’t know your history, doesn’t know that you have zero interest in him.

You check your phone. Nothing.

You want to call him to explain but he’s working and so are you. So instead you text him.

[Y/N]: It wasn’t what it looked like.

Then you add another, after a second.

[Y/N]: I’ll see you later. If you want to.

The reply comes quickly.

[HYUNJIN]: Come to my office when you’re back.

Your pulse starts thumping in your ears but you don’t hesitate, you go straight to his floor.

You knock once before stepping in.

The lights are dimmer in his office, blinds pulled shut. The hum of servers buzzes low around you. Hyunjin is at his desk, standing, arms crossed. He looks tense.

His eyes flick to you when you enter, but his expression doesn’t change. You close the door behind you. Neither of you speaks right away.

“I got your message,” you say softly after a moment.

He just nods, not quite looking you in the eye. You step closer.

“It was nothing, Hyunjin.” You continue.

He doesn’t answer.

You move around the edge of his desk. “It’s Chris. That’s just what he’s like.” You say, lowly.

Still, he doesn’t respond. Just the tightening of his jaw, the way his throat moves when he swallows.

“I said what I had to say,” you say, gently. “But I didn’t want to be there.”

His eyes finally lift and the look in them, its dark, wounded but also wanting.

“I know,” he says hoarsely. “But I still saw him look at you.”

You step closer. “And I saw you. Not looking at me.” You say.

That lands, he exhales a sharp and broken breath but then he snaps.

His hands are suddenly on you.

He pulls you in hard, mouth crashing against yours like he’s been holding it in too long. Your back hits the edge of his desk as his hands roam gripping, pressing, claiming.

He lifts you in one swift, desperate motion, setting you on the cold surface, standing between your legs as he pushes your skirt higher with shaking hands.

“I don’t want to imagine him touching you,” he growls against your mouth. “Or talking to you like he has a chance.”

“He doesn’t,” you breathe. His hands grip your thighs tightly.

“Say it again.” He commands.

You lock eyes with him.

“He doesn’t.” You repeat, this time slowly so he hears you.

He kisses you again, rougher this time. His hips press forward, hard and aching. You feel just how much he needs you. How much this has unravelled him.

“You’re mine,” he says through gritted teeth, breath hot against your ear. “Do you understand that?” His hand reaches around your throat harshly.

You nod, his touch making you dizzy.

“Say it,” he demands, voice low and shakey.

“I’m yours.” You whisper and that breaks him.

He pulls your underwear aside, frees himself, and thrusts in hard with no hesitation. No teasing. Just heat and need.

You cry out, fingers scrambling for the edge of the desk, body arching toward him.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel better than I remember.”

You moan softly, head falling back.

His hands slide under your blouse, gripping your waist like he’s trying to hold you in place. Like if he doesn’t, he’ll lose control completely.

“This pussy is mine,” he pants. “Not his. Not anyone’s. Mine.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, Hyunjin, only yours.”

His pace stutters, and he pulls out harshly.

“Turn around,” he says, he’s panting now, his glasses wonky on his face. “Now.”

You slide off the desk and turn around, You’re halfway through the motion when he grabs a fist full of your hair and shoves you face down against his desk. Your ass is raised in the air, he spanks you and you hiss at the delicious sting. He pulls your panties down, and another smack to the other cheek. You yelp this time and he laughs. Lowly and cold, a completely different side to him that makes your arousal drip down your thighs.

He pushes back in again with no warning, pounding into your pussy intensely. You start moaning loudly. “Fuck, that’s right. Let them hear how good I make you feel.” He says, through gritted teeth. Your hole flutters around him at the filth coming out of his mouth. You’ve never seen him like this. He growls at the sensation, and he pulls you up so your back is against his chest. He speaks against your ear, “You were made of this, made to take my cock. Now you’re going to take my load. I’m gonna breed the fuck out of this cunt.”

His words alone send you over the edge, you cry out his name, your pussy milking his length for all its worth. “Ahh- there she is, fuck, so good for me.”

Then he groans, hips slamming into you again and again, lost in the sound of your voice, your heat, the desperate slap of skin on skin in a room where no one is supposed to hear.

He follows soon after, burying himself deep, your name tumbling from his lips like a prayer. His hips tremble as his release fills you. “Fuck, y/n”

When he pulls out he grabs a tissue from a box on his desk, wiping you down silently.

You turn, still in a bit of a daze from his actions.

He bins the tissue, turns to you and his eyes soften.

“I- I don’t know, what came over me. I-“ he starts but you interrupt him with a kiss.

“It’s okay, I know.” You mutter against his mouth.

You pull your skirt back down, smooth your blouse with shaking hands, and fix your lipstick in the reflection of Hyunjin’s darkened monitor.

He watches you while you do, like he’s still trying to believe you’re real.

You don’t speak again before you leave his office.

You just kiss him, softer this time, slow and slip back into the hallway with your head high and your body still full of him.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The rest of the day passes in sharp detail.

Your pen feels heavier, your thighs ache with every step and your chair seems too cold beneath you now.

You shift in your seat, legs crossed, muscles still fluttering from the intensity he left inside you. It’s not messy and not visible but you feel it.

Him.

There.

Your heart pounds every time someone enters your office.

Jeongin brings you a file and talks about scheduling. You nod along, trying to focus, but all you can think about is the way Hyunjin had said, Mine, with his hands digging into your skin.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

Focus.

But it’s hard when every movement reminds you what he did. How he filled you, how he was rough, possessive and didn’t pull out.

You glance at the clock, there are still two hours until the day ends.

Still two hours of pretending and you know when it’s over, you’ll go back to him and let him break you all over again.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

The office has been empty for hours.

The lights are off. The hum of machines is low and distant. The servers glow faintly in the dark like they’re the only things left alive in the building.

Hyunjin’s still at his desk in the clothes he wore when he fucked you over it.

His screen’s been in sleep mode for over an hour and he hasn’t written a single line of code.

He’s just been sitting there, hands resting on his thighs, head back against the chair, replaying everything.

The way you looked at him right before he snapped. The sound you made when he pushed inside you. The silence in your mouth when you left, holding yourself steady… and still full of him.

The thought makes his throat tighten and he wonders if you felt him for the rest of the day.

If you’re still thinking about it now.

He doesn’t know what to say but around midnight, he picks up his phone and stares at your name for a long time.

Then he types.

[HYUNJIN]: Are you still awake?

He stares at it.

Deletes it.

Types again.

[HYUNJIN]: I keep thinking about the way you walked out of my office like nothing happened and knowing I was still inside you.

He sends it and waits. Hyunjin immediately regrets it but he doesn’t unsend it.

He wants you to know.

That he remembers.

That he feels it.

Even hours later.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

Your apartment is silent.

The city hums just beyond the windows, lights low, traffic soft and distant. You’re curled on top of your sheets in an oversized tee, fresh from the shower, hair still damp but you haven’t moved in a while.

Your thighs are still sore.

Not badly but just enough to remember every time you shift. Every time you squeeze your legs together and feel the faint, slick warmth that never fully leaves you.

It’s about the intimacy of it. The fact that he didn’t pull out. That you walked away still carrying the weight of his body inside your own.

Your phone buzzes softly beside you.

You reach for it, thumb hesitating over the screen.

It’s him.

[HYUNJIN]: I keep thinking about the way you walked out of my office like nothing happened and knowing I was still inside you.

The breath you take is slow and deep.

You stare at the message.

You feel your body respond immediately, your chest tightens and your thighs press together, the heat blooming all over again.

You bite your lip.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a long moment.

Then you type a reply.

[Y/N]: I thought about it all day. Every time I sat down. I didn’t want to wash it away.

Delivered. Read.

Minutes pass before her replies.

Then a message comes through.

[HYUNJIN]: That’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

You can’t help but smile at that. You thought you’d be more open more honest so you respond.

[Y/N]: It didn’t feel like just sex. It never does with you.

The three dots appear instantly.

Then disappear.

Then come back again.

[HYUNJIN]: It’s not just sex. I don’t know what it is yet, but I know I want all of it.

You stare at the words.

Let them sink in.

Then, slowly, you type.

[Y/N]: Even the part where you’re jealous and tense and say things like “mine” with gritted teeth?

[HYUNJIN]: Especially that part. I didn’t know I could feel that much. Until you.

Your heart stutters.

You lie back, one hand resting just below your ribs, fingers spread like you’re trying to hold in the butterflies rising.

[Y/N]: Are you okay now?

[HYUNJIN]: No. I keep thinking about pulling you onto my desk again. Slower this time, Deeper. Making you say it again. That you’re mine.

You close your eyes and squirm.

[Y/N]: I am yours. You don’t have to ask.

Delivered.

Read.

A full minute of silence.

[HYUNJIN]: Come to me or let me come to you. I won’t even touch you unless you ask me to.

[Y/N]: If you come here, I’m not going to ask you to stop.

He replies instantly.

[HYUNJIN]: Give me fifteen minutes.

You set the phone down. Your hands are trembling and the anticipation feels like the sweetest kind of ache.

You leave the door unlocked.

You sit on the edge of your bed in the dark, the faint city light painting shadows across your thighs, your chest rising slowly and uneven beneath your thin shirt.

When the door opens, it’s soft but the footsteps are not. They’re fast and heavy. Controlled only by the barest thread of restraint. You look up as Hyunjin steps into your room and he’s not pretending tonight.

His hair is loose. His mouth already parted. His eyes locked on you like he’s been starving for days and you’re the first thing he’s allowed to touch.

He doesn’t speak, at least not right away. He crosses the room in three slow, focused steps, one hand reaching for your face while the other grabs your thigh and spreads you open beneath his gaze.

You let him and he leans in, breath hot against your neck as he growls, “I’m going to fill you up again.” Your breath hitches. “I’m going to fuck you slow this time,” he whispers, hands already sliding under your shirt, voice almost shaking. “But deep. So deep it stays with you for days.” You shiver under his touch, “I want to watch it drip out of you tomorrow when you try to walk through your office like nothing happened.”

Your knees fall open instinctively. He kisses you hard with nothing held back, tongue sliding against yours, hands already tugging your shirt over your head. When you’re bare in front of him, he pulls back just enough to look.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I didn’t think I could want you more than I did earlier.”

You reach for him and pull his hoodie over his head, and you run your hands down his chest. “I need you inside me.” You say, breathlessly.

“I know,” he groans. “And I need to stay there.”

He kisses his way down your body, open-mouthed, messy, worshipping and it’s anything but soft. He pushes inside you in one slow, relentless thrust, groaning into your mouth as you gasp, gripping him tight, both of you already too close and when he starts to move it’s deep, steady, brutal in rhythm but tender in how he touches your face, how he keeps whispering your name between gasps, it makes you realize this isn’t just about fucking.

It’s about knowing. Claiming.

Keeping.

And when he finally comes inside you again, trembling and moaning and buried to the hilt, he doesn’t pull away.

He just presses his lips to your ear and whispers, “I’m going to keep filling you until your body forgets what it feels like to be empty.”

He’s still inside you, chest pressed against yours, his heartbeat slow but unsteady, like it hasn’t caught up with the moment yet. One of your hands rests at the nape of his neck, the other curled loosely around his wrist.

He finally lifts his head, brushing his nose against yours, lips red and swollen, eyes soft in the dark.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“So are you.” You reply.

His mouth ghosts over your cheek. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

You run your fingers through his hair. “Like what?”

“Rough. Needy. Messy.” He says, softly.

You pull him closer.

“That was exactly what I needed.” You say.

He exhales slowly, like the guilt’s been bleeding out of him this whole time. You guide him to lie beside you, legs still tangled, your body still holding onto the weight of him. He props himself up on one elbow and just looks at you. His eyes are heavy, and he looks almost vulnerable.

“I don’t think I know how to do this,” he says softly.

“Do what?” You ask.

“Want someone this much and not ruin it.” He says just above a whisper.

Your throat tightens. You reach for his hand, pull it to rest between your breasts, over your heart.

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say.

“I’ve never had something like this before.” He says, his eyes meeting yours. You brush your thumb across his knuckles.

“Me neither.” You admit.

He watches you. Then says, barely audible, “I think about you all the time.”

“I think about you when I’m alone.” You reply, honestly. His eyes close for a moment, like the words hit somewhere deeper than they should. You lean in, press your lips to his collarbone. “I don’t want this to be something we hide forever,” you say. “But I need to do it right. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods, “I’ll wait,” he says. “However long it takes.”

You breathe in slowly, pressing your forehead to his. “And when I’m ready,” you whisper, “you’ll be the one I’ll walk toward.”

His fingers tighten gently around yours and you lay with each other just basking in the afterglow.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

It’s late afternoon in the office.

You’re in the middle of reviewing a project proposal when Jeongin knocks gently and pokes his head in.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, “but we’ve had a situation come up with the data compliance audit.”

You sigh, setting the file down. “How bad?”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” he says. “But they want a walkthrough of the backend systems. They’re asking for a report by morning.”

You glance at the clock. “And this needs me because…?” You ask.

“They want it signed off by someone on the executive team.” He pauses. “And by the guy who built the current security protocol.”

Your stomach tightens. “Hyunjin?”

Jeongin nods. “It’s technical and it needs detail. Someone from their side’s coming in first thing tomorrow.”

You nod slowly, already feeling the shift. The risk of it. “Have him meet me in the server room in an hour,” you say. “We’ll go over it together.”

Jeongin’s eyes flicker with amusement, maybe, but he says nothing. He just smiles and leaves.

An hour later, you hear the door open behind you before you turn.

Hyunjin steps in, tablet in one hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up, expression unreadable but his eyes say everything. Neither of you speaks. You walk toward the first terminal together, screens glowing faint blue in the dark. He’s close, too close, his arm brushes yours as he types. You pretend not to react but your breath stutters.

“I heard about the audit,” he says finally, voice low.

You nod. “We’ll run the diagnostics. Annotate anything they might question.” You reply.

Your body already remembers what he feels like, how his fingers fit into your hips, how his breath sounds when he’s losing control.

You keep your eyes on the screen.

“Thanks for staying,” you say evenly.

He nods once. “I always stay late.” He says, playfully.

You glance at him. “You okay working on this with me?” You ask.

He smiles, but not fully. “You think I’d say no to being alone with you again?”

You don’t react but you feel the weight of his words in your chest.

He taps something on the tablet, pulls up a cluster of code.

“Their audit requires a traceable packet report from last month,” he says, tone cool and professional. “We’ll need to walk them through the breach pattern, step by step.”

You nod. “That’ll put you right in front of them.”

He hums, glancing at you sideways. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s watched me perform under pressure.”

Your jaw tenses but you turn back to the screen and Hyunjin steps a little closer.

His mouth is near your ear now, too close for comfort. Too close for anything appropriate.

“They’ll want to see where the entry point was,” he murmurs, voice low. Dangerous. “We’ll start with the soft spots… the parts that let things in easily. That’s always where the trouble begins.”

You inhale, sharply and your thighs tighten reflexively.

He continues, whispering like it’s a secret, “And once we show them how deep it went, how thoroughly it was handled, they’ll know it’s been dealt with. Completely.”

You glance at him and you see it in his eyes.

He’s not talking about the report anymore. He’s thinking about last night.

About the way you took him in, twice. About how you still haven’t looked him in the eye since.

You lift your chin, voice cool. “Let’s get it documented then.”

He smirks and his next words are practically a growl, low enough only you can hear.

“I already left my mark once,” he murmurs. “I’m not afraid to do it again.”

You close your eyes for half a second and breathe. Your body burns and you know this audit isn’t going to be the only thing tested tonight.

The door opens, and then you hear footsteps.

“Hey! Oh,” Jeongin’s voice. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were both already here.”

Hyunjin steps back immediately.

Not sharply but with all the restraint of someone who just remembered where he is. Who he is. What this is supposed to be.

You straighten. Slide half a step to the right and school your voice. “Everything alright, Jeongin?”

He blinks, glancing between you. “Yeah. Just wanted to drop off the latest from compliance. It’s on your desk, by the way.” He says.

“Thank you.” You say it smooth, flat, like nothing’s wrong. Like your skin isn’t still burning. Like you weren’t one breath away from leaning into the warmth of someone you shouldn’t.

Jeongin hesitates for a moment, “See you both tonight.” He smiles and leaves.

The door closes and Hyunjin exhales.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

Hyunjin stands in front of the mirror, trying to decide if the black shirt is too much.

It’s simple enough just a button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, crisp and clean against his skin but the top buttons feel too revealing. The collar feels too stiff. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. Ties it back. Undoes it again. Leaves it loose, slightly tousled.

It doesn’t matter.

He knows he’ll feel undone either way, the moment he steps onto that rooftop and sees you there.

He wonders what you’ll wear.

If you’ll be dressed like the version of you who stands tall in boardrooms, or the version who melts beneath his touch in dim-lit rooms.

He adjusts his sleeves again. Then checks his phone. No messages from you. He doesn’t expect one.

Can he really keep this up?

Keep pretending you’re nothing but professional acquaintances who barely speak outside emails and meetings, when in reality he’s memorised the sound of your breath at midnight?

His chest tightens.

He closes his eyes.

Tonight, he tells himself, is just another night.

Except it’s not.

Tonight is another night of standing in a crowd, pretending not to notice every breath you take, every glance you steal, every careful step you take away from him in front of everyone.

He looks at his reflection again, pondering whether to go or not but he knows he should. He needs to do it. Not just for you but for himself.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

You arrive just after sunset.

The rooftop bar glows softly, lit by strings of warm, amber lights. Soft laughter and chatter mix into the cool evening breeze as your colleagues cluster in small groups, drinks already in hand.

You scan the crowd subtly, you spot Hyunjin immediately, he’s leaning quietly against the railing, black shirt sharp against his skin, hair loose, looking out over the city like he’s not waiting for you. Like he hasn’t already felt your presence.

He turns his head slightly and your eyes meet.

One breath.

Two.

Then you both look away.

You drift toward Jeongin, grabbing a drink along the way. Casual smiles. Easy conversation. Your laugh rings out, natural but controlled.

The tension builds anyway.

Every sip you take, every glance that drifts inevitably toward him, it tightens, coils, breathless beneath your ribs.

Hyunjin doesn’t move closer.

The elevator doors open again. Laughter, louder now. A voice you know too well.

Chris.

He strolls in, suit jacket draped casually over one shoulder, white shirt crisp beneath, smile already set to stun.

He spots you instantly and doesn’t look away.

“Ah, there’s my favourite executive,” he says warmly, coming up beside you and Jeongin. “No one said the guest of honour was the only reason to come celebrate.”

You offer him a polite smile, careful. “I didn’t know you were coming.” You say, coyly.

“I love a good surprise,” Chris replies smoothly, leaning in slightly. “And seeing you outside the office definitely qualifies.”

He doesn’t leave your side after that.

His hand hovers too close to the small of your back. His laughter comes too easily. His eyes linger a moment too long and you can feel Hyunjin watching.

Every smile Chris draws from you it’s professional, forced and makes the air between you and Hyunjin feel sharper, colder.

You can already sense him across the space, quiet but unravelling, watching Chris lean toward you again, whispering something clever enough to make you fake another laugh.

It makes you wonder how long Hyunjin can pretend he doesn’t feel every word, every glance, every touch he’s forced to watch from a distance?

You already know this is driving him wild.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

Hyunjin is good at being invisible, he always has been.

Standing by the railing, glass in hand, he tries hard to hold onto that invisibility but tonight it’s slipping fast. His eyes haven’t left you since Chris arrived.

Every laugh you fake, every polite touch Chris steals, feels like sandpaper beneath Hyunjin’s skin.

His jaw tightens as he watches Chris lean too close again, hand grazing your lower back. Your smile is calm, careful, unreadable but it cuts into him anyway.

“You know she does that for show, right?” He hears a voice break through his thoughts.

Hyunjin startles slightly, snapping out of his haze.

Jeongin stands beside him, sipping a beer, eyes fixed casually toward the same scene Hyunjin can’t look away from.

“She doesn’t even like him,” Jeongin continues easily. “Never has.”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply and Jeongin glances at him, lips curling into a knowing smile. “You know, it took you long enough to do something about it,” he says quietly. “Why don’t you just go take what’s yours?”

Hyunjin’s eyes snap to Jeongin, voice low, startled: “You… know?” He asked, slightly bewildered.

Jeongin’s smile softens, and he seems almost amused.

“Of course I do,” he says gently. “I knew you liked her on your second day when you asked me how to speak to her. I saw it in your eyes.” He pauses, gaze sliding back toward you, thoughtfully. “But I gotta admit, she’s a powerhouse. I didn’t think anyone could get through that armour.” Jeongin tilts his head toward Hyunjin, eyes sharp with honesty. “But the day after she went to your office, I saw it in hers.”

Hyunjin stands there, chest suddenly tight, pulse hammering at the base of his throat. He’s silent, taking it in, letting it sink through him slowly.

Then Jeongin leans in closer, voice lowered, words like a spark against Hyunjin’s skin, “Now go get your woman.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Jeongin just walks away, disappearing quietly back into the crowd.

Hyunjin’s gaze finds you again, you’re still standing next to Chris, still wearing that careful smile but now something inside him shifts.

His woman.

The words settle deep in his bones.

And for the first time, he realises he doesn’t have to just watch.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

You feel Hyunjin moving toward you before you see him.

Something in the air shifts and the murmur of voices fades, your pulse quickens, like instinct telling you to look up.

Chris is still talking, charming, unending and still completely oblivious. You glance sideways just as Hyunjin reaches your side. He’s calm, eyes steady and dark, filled with something sharp and unhidden. He places himself neatly between you and Chris so smoothly and politely, but firmly enough that Chris takes a slight step back in surprise.

Chris’s eyes narrow slightly, curiously.

“Hyunjin, isn’t it?” Chris asks, voice edged just enough to provoke.

Hyunjin barely glances at him. “Yeah,” he says simply, before turning to you, his gaze softening instantly. “Sorry to interrupt but I need a word.”

Your heart beats under your dress and Chris chuckles dryly. “I’m sure it can wait-”

Hyunjin’s voice stays quiet, but the authority behind it is unmistakable, interrupting Chris. “Actually, it can’t.”

You catch the flicker of surprise in Chris’s eyes, quickly masked. You feel Hyunjin’s fingers brush gently against your elbow, it’s soft, barely there, but clear enough in their meaning, You’re mine, we’re leaving.

You nod slightly. “Of course. Excuse us, Chris.”

You don’t look back as Hyunjin guides you toward the edge of the rooftop, out of earshot, away from the crowd and curious eyes. When you finally stop, you turn to face him, and your breath is tight in your chest. “What was that?” you whisper.

He leans in, voice low, a soft growl only you can hear, “I’m tired of watching someone else touch what’s mine.”

Your pulse spikes. Your voice comes out unsteady and raw, “Hyunjin-”

He leans closer, eyes searching yours, daring you to deny it. “I’m not hiding anymore,” he says fiercely. “Not from him. Not from anyone.” He pauses, breathing hard, then adds in a quieter, softer tone. “Especially not from you.”

You stare at him, your heart hammering, feeling every last wall crumbling between you. You both return to the party side by side.

Hyunjin doesn’t touch you, not visibly but his presence at your side is unmistakable now. It’s calm, grounded, and unchallenged. A storm waiting for anyone to step too close.

Chris is still there and of course, he spots you immediately. He cuts through the group with a glass in hand and that same damn smirk on his lips. Smooth as ever, voice a little louder now, just enough to draw attention.

“There you are,” he says, eyes dragging slowly from you to Hyunjin. “Didn’t think you’d vanish on me like that.”

You smile politely. “We were just getting some air.”

Chris chuckles, cocking his head. “Sounds like an excuse. You know, if you want to get out of here with me, sweetheart, you can just say the word.”

You feel your body tense at his words but Hyunjin speaks for you, quiet and steady, “Sorry. She’s already got plans tonight.”

Chris just laughs lightly then says, “Right. Playing hard to get. I get it. She’s good at that.”

Hyunjin’s gaze sharpens and then, without hesitation, “With me.” He says it so calmly, so full of certainty.

Chris’s smile falters and Hyunjin doesn’t back down. “She’s coming home with me.” He says again.

Chris’s mouth opens like he’s about to speak again, but your hand slips gently, unmistakably, onto Hyunjin’s arm and that’s all it takes for Chris to realise that this isn’t a game, it’s not pretend. You’ve made your choice.

Chris exhales sharply through his nose, offers a weak smile to no one in particular, and fades back into the crowd like a ghost who never really belonged.

You and Hyunjin stand there in the silence he left behind and this time you don’t care who sees.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The bathroom is cooler than the rooftop.

You lean over the sink, hands braced on porcelain, breath shaky as cold water trails down your wrists and your throat. Your lipstick’s smudged at the corner. Your pulse is still racing.

You stare into the mirror and don’t quite recognise your expression.

Not because you’re afraid but because for once, you’re this close to choosing something entirely for yourself.

A knock on the door startles you.

You quickly straighten your posture, swiping at the corners of your eyes, half-expecting Hyunjin but when the door eases open, it’s Jeongin.

You frown. “Jeongin? What the hell are you doing in here?” You ask, incredulously.

“Look,” he says quickly, hands up in surrender, “just hear me out, boss.”

“I don’t think this is appropriate-“ you say.

“Stop,” he cuts in. “Just for one second. Don’t be the CEO. Don’t be ‘put together.’ Just be a person.”

You exhale sharply, frustrated. “Jeongin-”

“I mean it,” he says, interrupting you again and stepping closer. His voice softens, not casual now. “Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks. Haven’t you done that enough?”

You don’t know what to say to him.

He lowers his hands. “Be selfish for once. Just… be with him.”

You stare at your reflection then your eyes meet his again. He keeps going. “Who cares about the little folk anyway? You’re the boss. The CEO. It’ll be gossip for a week, if that. Before another guy from Finance sleeps with someone from HR, or someone gets fired for stealing coffee pods. Let them talk.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. Jeongin looks at you with a kind of gentleness you don’t expect. “I’m not saying this as your assistant,” he adds. “I’m saying it as your friend.”

Silence folds between you, his words hitting differently now. He lingers for only a moment longer, then steps toward the door.

“Jeongin.” You call out.

He turns. You look at him, a little undone. A little overwhelmed and you say it with quiet sincerity, “Thank you.”

He smiles and heads out the door.

When you finally leave the bathroom you can’t find Hyunjin. The rooftop buzzes with laughter and drinks, half the office still milling about in clusters, unaware that your chest is hollowing with every minute that passes without him in sight.

You check the corners. Stairs. The hallway near the bathrooms.

Nothing.

You pull out your phone and text him.

[Y/N]: Where did you go?

Delivered.

No response.

You bite your lip, heart slamming. Something inside you begins to spiral. Did he leave? Did he think you were hesitating again, maybe backing out? Has he had enough of the hiding? Of being your secret?

You don’t wait around to find out, you decide to head back to your apartment, your stomach in knots.

When you get there after 20 minutes, he’s there… Sitting on the steps just outside your building, legs stretched out, head tilted slightly, that familiar black shirt unbuttoned. He stands when he sees you. A soft smirk plays on his lips. “Took you long enough.” He comments.

You rush toward him, heart still in your throat.

“Why did you leave?” you ask, half-angry, half-relieved. “Why didn’t you answer?”

Hyunjin just tilts his head. “I thought it would be best if we left separately at different times,” he says, quiet, calm. “So there’s no suspicion.” He pauses. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You look at him for one small moment, then you kiss him, hard and messy. Your fingers curl into his shirt, you pull back and say, “Not anymore.”

That’s all it takes, he drags you through the door kissing your way through the corridor, both clambering into the elevator. You both laugh as the door closes.

You barely make it through the front door before you’re all over each other again. Clothes fall with soft thumps. Your back hits the wall with a gasp and his mouth is on your neck.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Hyunjin groans, hands greedy now, sliding under the fabric of your dress, gripping your waist like he’s been waiting years.

“You’re mine,” he whispers between kisses, “You’re so perfect it makes me fucking insane, do you know that?”

You moan softly as he lifts you, and he walks you backwards toward the bedroom without ever breaking contact. His mouth on you the whole way.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he breathes against your jaw. “Every move you make. Every time you smile. Every time you pretend I’m just the IT guy.”

You gasp, body arching into his touch.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” he says, hoarse now, eyes wild with devotion. “Not with me, not ever again.”

He lays you on the bed, but you push him back onto it. His hands grip your hips as you move over him, the rhythm steady, needy. His head falls back into the pillow, hair spread like dark silk, lips parted in a gasp that sounds like your name. The room is warm, lit only by the flicker of streetlight through the window. You rub his cock through your folds, already soaked from the heat of it. Of him. He stares up at you like you’ve hung the moon. You line up his length to your entrance, keeping your gaze locked on his.

“Fuck, Y/n. You wanna be in control, hmm?” He asks playfully and you slide down taking every thick inch of him. Both of you moaning as you fully take him in. You ride him slowly, intimately so, your hands on his chest, your bodies wet and tangled, the only sound your breath and skin and the soft stutter of his voice when he moans.

“You’re gonna break my code like this,” he groans suddenly, voice barely coherent.

You pause then scoff a laugh, and then you roll your hips harder, his length bruising your cervix deliciously. “Oh my god,” you laugh again.

He grins up at you, flushed and gorgeous, his eyes sparkling. “What?” He asks.

“You’re such a nerd,” you giggle, breathlessly and then suddenly he flips you and he’s on top. His strong arms pinning your wrists to the bed, buried deep again in a single, perfect thrust. You gasp, he leans in close, with his mouth against your ear, “You love it.” He says.

Your breath hitches. You don’t even try to lie.

“I guess I do,” you whisper with a grin.

He laughs and it’s soft, full, almost like he’s letting go of something heavy, then the words slip out of his mouth.

“Well, I fucking love you.”

You look at him then, really look. Shock falls on your features but his body is still moving, still pushing into you but slower now, like he didn’t even mean to say it. Like it fell out of him.

You blink up at him. “What… did you say?” You whisper.

Hyunjin’s eyes search your face and then he says it again, clearer this time, his voice steady, “I love you, Y/N.”

You stop breathing.

“I think I have since the day you took me to lunch and told me you see me.” He swallows hard, still deep inside you, everything exposed now. “Hell, maybe it was before that. Maybe it was from the first day you said my name like it meant something.” His voice softens. “I do. I love you and I’m so fucking tired of holding it in, baby.”

Your heart skips a beat.

That word, baby. So new from his lips, so tender, so sure and it rolls over you like a shiver. Your hands slide up to his face. You look at him like he’s the only thing that’s ever made sense and you whisper, with a voice thick with everything you’ve wanted to say, “I love you too, Hyunjin.”

He huffs out a breath and then he kisses you. Like your love is something he has to taste. When he moves again it’s deep, slow, and reverent.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as his breathing stutters, “Fuck, baby- you’re… fuck-“ he struggles to speak so you kiss him again.

The drag of his length inside you is so fucking intoxicating that you clench and he feels it. He pulls away for the kiss looking down at where his cock thrusts into you.

“Oh baby, you’re milking me- fuck god I love this pussy so much!” He looks up at you then, “I love you- I- I’m gonna- come… You gonna take it for me?” He stutters slightly, his body trembling over you as he starts to drive into you with a rough pace.

You nod and he smirks. “That’s a good girl, always so fucking perfect for me, come- ahhh- come with me baby.” You moan as his cock hits your G-spot over and over, he pushes one of your thighs up against your stomach, the stretch and new position with him driving into your cunt sends you over the edge.

“Hyunjin, oh my god!” You moan out, he follows soon after, his cock pulsating inside you as his seed fills you.

“Oh fuck baby girl,” he groans then his mouth is on yours again, his kisses are wet and messy as he comes down from his high, thrusting a few more times before he leans up on his arms to look at you again.

“Wow.” He says. He doesn’t pull out, he just stays there, as if in awe of you.

You laugh and blush at the praise. “I love you.” You say again, not quite believing you can say it out loud, that you can allow yourself to feel it.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Hyunjin lies beside you, one arm tucked under your neck, the other hand trailing slow, lazy circles over your bare hip. He kisses your shoulder, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth over and over, like he can’t stop reminding himself you’re here.

Then, after a while, he exhales and murmurs, “So… how are we gonna do this?”

You open your eyes. “Do what?” You ask.

“This,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “You. Me. Work. Life.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you say lightly. “I think… keeping it between us a little longer. Keeping it ours.”

Hyunjin nods slowly but then he laughs under his breath. “Is this a dream?” He asks.

You roll onto your side to face him, your fingers brushing back his hair. “No,” you whisper. “Only the best one.”

He smiles like that’s the only answer he ever needed.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Two weeks later…

Your blazer’s tucked neatly in the backseat of Hyunjin’s car. His hand rests on your thigh at every stoplight. The city hums to life around you, but inside the car, it’s all quiet with warm glances, soft smiles, fingers brushing lightly between the gear shifts.

There’s no conversation about what this means anymore.

You’ve had those.

Now it’s about living it.

When you pull into the company lot, he doesn’t ask. Just unbuckles, reaches for your hand, and threads his fingers through yours.

You glance at him.

He just shrugs, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“If we’re doing this,” he murmurs, “we’re doing it together.”

You walk into the building side by side, shoulder to shoulder, step for step and the moment you step into the lobby, your hands are still linked?

You don’t care who sees.

Jeongin glances up from the front desk, takes one look, and grins so hard he has to pretend to cough.

No one says anything but there’s a shift in the air now.

For the first time, you don’t shrink from it. You hold it. You hold him.

Now, there’s no hiding.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

EPILOGUE

It’s been four months.

Since the rooftop party. Since the walk into the office, hand in hand. Since the world kept turning and nothing burned down.

You still get looks sometimes.

A little whisper here. A smirk there but it fades.

Now, when people see you and Hyunjin talking quietly in the corner of the office, they look away because it’s not gossip anymore. It’s a fact.

You’re together.

You didn’t fall apart.

You fit.

He’s still in IT, still working in the dark corners of the server floor, still pushing out brilliant solutions with no need for credit. You’re still in charge. Still fierce, still professional, still known for walking into a room like it belongs to you.

Now though, you have someone waiting for you when you leave it.

“You’re late,” you murmur as he slips into the boardroom, five minutes before your weekly strategy meeting.

Hyunjin grins as he shuts the door behind him, coffee in one hand, your favourite pen in the other.

“You love me late.” He says, cheekily.

You arch a brow, lips twitching. “I love you focused.” You say, with faux sternness.

He leans in close, voice low against your ear. “I love you when you boss me around.”

You scoff, shaking your head as he presses a kiss to your temple. It’s quick but the sentiment is there. Then he sits next to you.

When the others filter in, it’s business as usual but under the table, his hand gently squeezes your thigh. Like a quiet, constant reminder that you’re not alone in this anymore.

And you never will be again.

Disclaimer - I do not own Stray kids, they are used as inspiration for fictional characters. This fic does not reflect who they are in real life. I do not own any of the images in the banner.

TAGLIST - @fairylix @hoes4minho @lilileen25 @akindaflora @tirena1 @stayjinnie @jehhskz

@alittlebitofeverything04

[hwangjoanna]

'Hack Into My Heart'

Nerdy I.T Guy/Hyunjin X CEO Boss/Reader | Office Romance AU I MDNI 18+ | Colleagues to Lovers I Slow Burn | Power Dynamics | Awkward | Angst | Love I Smut

Beneath a composed exterior, the company's powerful CEO Y/N thrives on control until a sudden cyberattack threatens to bring her entire empire crashing down. With her life's work on the line, she turns to the only person who might save it: Hyunjin, the quiet and awkward but brilliant I.T. technician. In the glow of midnight monitors, unspoken tension simmers between them as Hyunjin works tirelessly to unravel the hack, his steady hands and sharp mind battling the digital enemy. Yet it's the closeness of his determined, captivating boss that sends his heart racing. Y/n watches this soft-spoken genius pour himself into protecting her company, and with each passing hour she glimpses the passionate soul behind his shy exterior. As firewalls fall, so do the walls around their hearts.

Warnings - MDNI 18+, Swearing, Angst, Awkwardness, Mutual Pining, Power Dynamics, Smut (Finally), Oral Sex (f.receiving), Fingering, Overstimulation, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink, SoftDom/ Hyunjin, Sub/Reader, Unprotected Sex.

A/N - Finally we get to the good bit ;) This is the Third part of this story please read the first two parts before reading this.

Part 1 Part 2

Hyunjin exhales, he looks down, then back up at you. “Because I wanted there to still be a reason for you to visit my office.” He says, a slight tremble in his voice.

You’re not sure how to take that, his words so bold and true. You’re not sure how to take him. Not a boy in a soft sweater with too much in his eyes and that kind of honesty in his voice.

When you don’t respond he looks away, his jaw tense. “I know it was stupid.” He says.

Once again you’re not sure how to handle this. The ache of it and the want buried inside the lie.

You take in a breath and exhale, “I’m not happy you kept that from me,” you say, voice cool.

“I know.” He says.

“But I understand why you did.” You add, you smile, so he knows you have no anger.

His eyes lift to you, “And?” he asks, cautiously.

You pick up your coffee, take a sip and reply, “And I’m still here.”

Hyunjin doesn’t smile but his eyes soften. Like something inside him just gave up trying to protect itself. “I kept refreshing the breach logs,” he says, voice low, his eyes back on the table. “Even after I traced them. Even after I knew they weren’t coming back. Just so I could pretend I had a reason to give you updates.”

You say nothing, but that flutter in your stomach is loud enough.

“I told myself it was about protocol,” he continues. “Or certainty, but honestly, I just wanted to keep seeing you. Outside of meetings, outside of expectations. Just… you.”

You shift slightly, watching him. He’s never said this much before. Never opened himself this wide.

Now that he has, you feel it. Every quiet hour., every half-made excuse, every late-night text that said ‘This probably doesn’t matter’ when it clearly did.

“You let me keep worrying,” you say. “You let me believe we were still exposed.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “And I hate that. I hated lying to you.”

“Then why do it?” You ask, softly.

He looks up again and this time, his voice isn’t timid. “Because I wanted to matter to you,” he says. “And I wasn’t sure I did.”

Your fingers are still around your cup and your breath catches. He thinks he doesn’t matter? Even after all the times you watched him work, the texts, the kiss that still sits on your lips like it never really ended. You lean forward slightly. “There are easier ways to matter,” you murmur. “Ones that don’t involve hiding things from me.”

“I know,” he says. “But I didn’t want to be another file on your desk.”

“You’re not.” You say, matter of fact.

Hyunjin exhales, like he’s been holding a breath since the moment you entered the cafe. You reach across the table and touch his hand.

“You matter,” you say, clearly. So he knows you mean it and by the looks on his face, he believes you. His eyes light up and his gaze dances over your features. He opens his hand so he can hold yours and for moment you both sit there.

The café is emptying now and Hyunjin gets the bill and pays without asking you, the gesture is sweet and doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Would you like to take a walk around the park?” He asks, as if he’s still a little unsure as to how you’re feeling.

You smile at him, “I’d love to,” you say, already picking up your handbag and heading to the door.

You both cross the road and walk into the park without so much as a word, just that comfortable silence again between you.

“Versace?” Hyunjin asks, pointing at your handbag.

You glance at it, “Yes, didn’t take you as someone who would know that.” You chuckle.

“No? Don’t you always see me in designer,” he winks, his glasses sliding down his perfect nose before he pushes them back up.

You laugh at that, as you both approach a large pond in the centre of the park. Both of you lean against the bordering metal railing.

You watch the ducks for moment, a mother with her ducklings all paddling behind her, the sun is low and you smile to yourself at the cute scene in front of you.

Click.

You turn Hyunjin and he’s got an old camera in his hands and a cheeky grin on his face.

“What are you doing?” You ask, knowing full well what.

“I’m sorry- you just,” he pauses, as if he’s scared to say it. “You look beautiful, the sun it’s- it’s warm glow is reflecting off the water- Urm, it’s- I just couldn’t not do it.” He rubs the back of his neck as he speaks.

He’s just called you beautiful and you swear you can feel yourself flush at the compliment but as always you try to stay cool. Try to act like what he’s just said about you is nothing but a passing comment.

“You’ll have to show me,” you say, “you know, when you get them developed.”

“Of course, Boss,” you’re sure he uses the term on purpose. Does he know how he’s saying it?

“Hey, no work talk remember,” you laugh.

“Okay, okay, no more work talk,” he says, as he puts his camera back in his bag and then he blurts out. “Do you want to come back to my place?” He doesn’t smirk, doesn’t pretend it's about anything other than letting you in.

You should say no, you’re his boss, always guarded, sharp, in control.

But right now?

You’re just tired of pretending you don’t want him.

“Okay,” you reply, gently.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Hyunjin’s apartment is smaller than you expected. It’s warm, low lit and quiet. Books are stacked neatly on open shelves. The couch is worn in at the corners. His oversized hoodie is draped over the back of a chair. A desk in the corner is lit by three different monitors, with code still running on one of them. His keyboard glows faintly green in the dark. There’s a graphic novel face-down beside a gaming controller. A pair of blue-light glasses sits near an empty mug. You spot a sticker on his laptop that says ‘I void warranties’.

You turn in a slow circle, taking it all in.

“It’s not much,” Hyunjin says from behind you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kind of a mess, actually.” He says, almost as if he’s annoyed with himself for not planning on having you back here.

You glance over your shoulder. “It’s you,” you say. He doesn’t reply so then you turn to face him, slower this time. “You live here,” you murmur. “You think here. You built things in this space.”

He shrugs. “Kind of embarrassing.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s not.”

You step further inside, past the couch, toward his desk. Your fingers hover near the keys, careful not to touch. The code on the screen scrolls softly, like he never really turns it off.

“It’s peaceful,” you say.

He exhales a quiet laugh. “It’s usually just me and a screen.”

“Not tonight.” You say, smiling to yourself and then you look back at him and he can’t hold the stare for long, his ears are pink.

He gestures toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? I have, uh, tea and maybe juice?” He opens the fridge, “Possibly expired.”

You laugh softly. “Tea is fine.”

He disappears for a moment and you stay there, in his space, letting yourself feel something you don’t usually allow, comfort and warmth.

He returns with mismatched mugs in hands, and places one on the coffee table. It’s simple, mint, it’s little over-steeped but you don’t mind. It’s the combination of everything that’s made your pulse rise slightly.

You sit on the edge of his couch, legs crossed, cradling the warmth in your hands as Hyunjin slides into the desk chair and turns toward you, still nervous, like he’s not sure if this is real.

You glance over at his monitor.

Code scrolls slowly on the centre screen, white text over black, pulsing rhythmically.

“What were you working on?” you ask softly. “Before I got here.”

“Oh, that?” He points to the screen.

You nod. “I’m curious.” You say.

He pauses. Then slowly swivels back toward the screen. “Well, it’s just a side project. Kind of dumb, really- but it’s this lightweight encryption tool I’ve been building. It detects anomalies in metadata before it even reaches the server, so you don’t just block malicious packets, you isolate the behaviour behind them. Like pre-emptive shielding, but smarter.” He describes it with ease, like he’s happy for the distraction.

You sip your tea, watching him.

He’s not looking at you anymore. Just the screen. His voice warms as he keeps going, words tumbling out faster. “And I’m trying to build the AI so it’s simple- like, intuitive. You don’t need to understand the code to run it, but if you do understand the code, it opens this whole sandbox layer where you can test it in real time.”

You smile around the rim of your mug and he keeps going.

“There’s this one algorithm I wrote last year that I keep refining- it’s messy, but I’m attached to it. It scrapes behavioural patterns from threat logs and ranks them on a scale of passive to invasive, and I just-”

He finally turns his head and stops talking. You’re still looking at him. The steam from your tea curls lazily between you.

“What?” he asks, his eyes wide.

You tilt your head. “You really love this.” You say.

His ears go pink again, “I- I mean, yeah. I guess I do.”

You lean back slightly, lips curving just enough to soften your voice. “It’s cute.”

The look on his face is as if he’s just been short-circuited. “Wh-what is?” He asks.

“The way you light up when you talk about code.” You smirk at him, knowing that your words have affected him.

Hyunjin pauses. You watch him struggle to process both the compliment and the word cute in the same sentence.

“Oh,” he says finally, voice small. “I didn’t mean to, urm, ramble.”

“You’re allowed to.” You laugh.

He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater. Still flushed and still not looking directly at you. Not properly, not now you’ve called him cute.

You sip your tea slowly. Then, without warning, you rise from the couch.

He glances over, startled, as you walk toward his desk.

“Did I say something wrong?” you ask, voice light, teasing.

“N-no,” he stammers. “You just-uh, you caught me off guard.”

You lean in, just slightly, bracing one hand on the back of his chair. Close enough to see the rapid blink of his cursor reflected in his glasses.

He swallows hard.

You watch him try to decide what to do with his hands. They hover above his knees, unsure, like if he moves, he might break something between you.

You let the silence stretch, you let him feel it. Let him squirm.

“Are you always this shy,” you ask, voice low, “or is it just around me?”

He exhales a soft and helpless laugh. “It’s definitely just you.”

You tilt your head, pleased. “Why?”

His eyes flick up and finally meet yours.

“You… scare me a little,” he says honestly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I?” Your tone, playful.

“Not in a bad way,” he adds quickly. “Just… I’m used to being overlooked and ignored. You’re the first person who made me feel like that wasn’t a default.”

Your chest tightens at his words.

“That’s not fear,” you say softly. “That’s attention.”

He watches you, his shoulders tense, lips parted.

“Then why does it feel like falling?” He whispers.

Your breath hitches and then, smoothly he pulls you onto his lap, your legs hang either side, straddling him, his palms caress your waist.

He’s still looking up at you through his glasses, his pupils are blown, and then he puts a hand around the back of your neck. He leans in and so do you. Your lips, centimetres apart.

“C’mere,” he says, then pulls you into a kiss.

This time, it’s not slow.

It’s urgent.

Not rushed, but full. Full of every look you’ve stolen, every text that said maybe, every silence that said please want me.

His hands grip your waist like he’s finally allowing himself to need, and yours are already sliding up his back, into his hair, anchoring yourself to him as if you’ve waited years.

He pushes his tongue into your mouth like he knows you’ll let him, and you do. It’s wet, messy and so fucking hot. You can feel yourself soaking your panties already and that’s when you notice. He’s hard, extremely. You can feel the bulge underneath your sex. Deciding to test the waters you grind on him while pulling on his hair, gently.

He groans into the kiss and bucks his hips up in response. You both pull away, only to catch your breath, but Hyunjin starts planting kisses along your jaw and down your throat, you can barely breathe it’s so intoxicating and intimate.

You can’t help what comes out of your mouth next but you moan out his name and he stops, When you look down he’s already looking up at you, and he’s a vision. His berry lips are swollen from kissing, glistening with yours and his saliva. His glasses are slightly askew but he makes no attempt to correct them.

“Say that again?” He says, breathlessly.

“Hyunjin,” you say, gently.

A broken and raw moan escapes his lips and he trails his fingers under your shirt.

“Can I?” He begins to ask but you’re already pulling it over your head, leaving it somewhere on the floor. That’s when he pulls back to look at you. Hyunjin curses under his breath, you start pulling your bra straps down and he kisses along your shoulder where they sat, goosebumps appear on your skin and he starts running his tongue over the swell of your breasts.

“Fuck, please Hyunjin.” You say, choked.

“Please what?” He asks.

You kiss the corner of his mouth then whisper against it, “Take me to bed.”

He places his palms flat under your ass and picks you up effortlessly, heading towards his bedroom. As he carries you like you weigh nothing, you start kissing all over his cheeks and his forehead, and he giggles. It’s the sweetest sound you think you’ve ever heard. He kicks his bedroom door open, and the scent hits you, his cologne, warm and deep. So him.

He guides you down gently, like he’s afraid you might vanish. You un-clip your bra and let it fall, he stands over you, his tall and lean frame almost intimidating from your view but his face is soft. He just looks at you for a moment, appreciatively. Your nipples harden under his gaze and he licks his puffy lips at the sight. Then he removes his cream sweater and throws it somewhere, you don’t care where because you’re too busy looking at how his plain white t-shirt hugs his torso. The fabric’s damp from his sweat and it clings in all the right places, you don’t realise how much you’re staring until he speaks.

“Want this off too?” He says, teasingly. His fist was around the hem of his shirt.

You nod, and he smirks and pulls it over his head. His skin is practically glowing with the sweat that runs down his chest, his abs are tight and firm, like he works out but not overly. Enough to keep himself in good shape. Then he speaks again, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Outside of this room, you’re the boss,” he pauses, watching you. “But in here, I’m the boss.” The last three words out of his mouth cause your pussy to clench around nothing. He holds your jaw in a firm grip, and his stare is intense. Where the fuck was all this confidence hiding?

“Does that sound good?” He asks, making sure you’re fully okay with it. The fact that he’s worried about your comfort and consent just turns you on more.

“Yes sir,” you say, not even sure why you call him sir but when you do, his pupils dilate and he growls.

“Lie down for me,” he says, You can tell he’s trying to keep himself composed but the look on his face says otherwise. He takes off his jeans while you scoot back onto the pillows. You take it as a sign to remove your own, you feel light-headed and breathless. He’s so beautiful and you can see the outline of his hardness pressing against his boxers. He catches you looking again and he chuckles. “If you’re good for me, you can have it but I want to play with you first.” He says, unwavering. “Spread your legs for me, pretty.” You do so, immediately and he lets out a broken moan, he climbs onto the bed and starts crawling to you with a sinful look on his face, The sight alone is enough to have you close. The anticipation of what he’s going to do to you has you panting.

He pushes your thighs further apart and looks down at your panties that stick to you.

“You’re soaked already, all for me?” He says, in disbelief. He pushes his face against your core and inhales, the action is so fucking dirty. He hums in satisfaction, “Fuck.” He curses. That’s when he licks a long stripe over the fabric, it rubs against your clit and you whimper at the contact. He looks up at you, then goes to remove his glasses but you stop him.

“Please, keep them on,” you say, timidly.

He smirks, “You like them huh?” His finger runs over the frame.

You nod, your mind already in a subspace, you can’t get your words out.

“Okay, just for you, they’ll stay on,” he winks at you. Jesus Christ, the duality of this man.

He leans down again and then, without warning he pulls your panties to the side and shoves his long, wet and warm tongue into your quivering hole, fucking into it with a drag that feels too good already. You moan loudly and he pulls back to say, “that’s right, let me hear those pretty little noises you make, while I devour this cunt.” The absolute fifth he speaks has your pussy spasming around nothing and you know he can feel it. He runs his tongue around your clit and then, he sucks and you feel like you could ascend right there and then. His glasses are wonky on his face but he doesn’t stop, his fingers join the effort and he curls two inside you, abusing your g-spot with vigour.

“Ahhh, uh, fuck Hyunjin,” you moan and he hums against your pussy, the vibrations spread through you and that knot in your stomach breaks, he continues to pleasure you through your orgasm but he doesn’t slow once you’ve come down and you whimper at the over-simulation. “Ahh, Hyun- I- Oh my god.”

“You’re doing so good for me, just give me one more, you can do that for me can’t you pretty, I’m thirsty.” He groans, his breath fanning against your wet folds, and he continues using his fingers while he speaks.

You nod at him, “yes sir, I-“ you begin but you don’t finish the sentence because you’re coming again, he removes his fingers and then buries his mouth into your cunt, slurping up your juices and the sound is so obscene but in the moment you’re too fucked out, to even comment on it.

Once you calm down he sits up on his knees, the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen graces his glistening lips. He sucks off his fingers keeping eye contact with you, and you exhale a long satisfied sigh. “Mmm,” he hums.

You’re lying there dumbfounded, “I wasn’t expecting, well that… Your fingers they’re…Fuck.” you say breathlessly.

“Spent years typing fast, but this is what they’re meant for.” He says as he slips off your panties. “You like how fast I can move them, huh? Faster than when I’m coding.” He chuckles. Fuck, what is this man doing to your brain. His cocky tone only turns you on more. You’re done for, if you want to keep any sanity left.

A needy whine escapes your throat before you have time to stop it. “Please Hyunjin,” you whimper. “Please fuck me.”

“You’re so beautiful when you beg, you were a good girl for me, and good girls get rewarded.” He says as he pulls down his boxers, his large cock springs free on the sight is mouthwatering. It’s thick and curved slightly, the pink tip drips with precum and all you want to do is taste him but Hyunjin pushes your legs even further apart. He lines himself up with your entrance but then pauses and rubs his cock through your wet folds.

“Ahh, please.” You beg again, then he looks up at you and his eyes soften.

“I’ve wanted you for a very long time.” He says.

You swallow, chest heaving. “How long?” You ask.

He leans in, mouth brushing your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. “Since my first day.”

Your eyes flutter closed.

He keeps speaking between kisses, between open-mouthed confessions pressed to your skin.

“You walked past my desk,” he murmurs, “and you didn’t even look at me but I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

You gasp as he pushes into you, shaking slightly. He chokes a moan then continues to speak. “I thought I made you up,” he breathes. “No one could look like you and sound like that and be real.” He’s fully sheathed inside you now, buried balls deep and he begins to rock into you.

“Mmm, Hyunjin,” you moan and he kisses you, his hips start moving at a quicker pace.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He says, his mouth starts to leave kisses along the column of your throat and you whimper. His cock feels good, the drag of it makes your gummy walls flutter around him.

Hyunjin laughs quietly, breathless, in love with the way you feel. You feel his need in every touch, in the way he presses his body to yours, in the way he kisses like he’s starving but still trying to worship you at the same time.

You cling to him, mouth open, breath stuttering, and he whispers your name like it’s something he’s been practising in the dark.

“You feel like-” he can’t finish the sentence, he just gasps. “I’ve dreamed about this. You. This. So many times.”

You cup his face, pulling him in.

“Then don’t let go,” you breathe. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop, he moves with you, desperately, but carefully. Holding back just enough to savour, even as his restraint cracks.

It’s not just sex. Not the way he’s fucking you, It’s everything you’ve both been too afraid to ask for.

“I want you to come for me y/n, I need it.” He says, his hand palms your breast and trails to your pussy where he starts rubbing your clit with godlike accuracy. You clench around his cock and he picks up the pace, driving into you with haste, chasing your orgasm. “Ahh fuck, this fucking cunt, you’re squeezing me so good, pretty girl.” He moans out, uncontrollably.

You whimper in response, your climax starting to form. You look up at him then, both of you staring into each other’s eyes, something unspoken passing between you. His glasses are bouncing on the bridge of his nose and you take them off put them aside and grab his face in your palms, pulling him in to kiss you. As soon as your lips connect with his, you come, the kiss is all tongue and spit. It’s messy, hot and grounding all at once.

Hyunjin thrusts into you a few more times before he buries his cock so deep inside you that you break the kiss and scream out.

He moans loudly, “fuck, fuck, fuck. Y/n. Oh my god.” He finishes inside you, your hole quivering around his length. Ropes of warm, sticky come start trickling out of your spent pussy. You’re so full of him, of his lust, of his want.

He kisses you again, then he pulls out slowly, carefully. He presses another sweet kiss to your jaw then walks to his bathroom, returning quickly with a warm damp wash cloth. He wipes you clean saying nothing, then he glances at you through his lashes.

“Can you pass me my glasses, please?” He asks, almost as if he’s timid again.

You pick them up and hand them to him. He places them on his face, blinks a few times and then looks at you again.

“There, now I can see your beautiful face better.” He says and you blush. He throws the wash cloth somewhere but you don’t care because he’s already holding you, he lays on his back and pulls you to rest against him. He runs his fingers through your hair, and it that moment you don’t say anything, you just bask in the afterglow and the tenderness of him.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

When you awaken the city is still outside the windows. The morning birds are tweeting and for a moment you’re confused, This isn’t your room? The only sound in the apartment is the soft rhythm of your breathing and the faint, steady thud of Hyunjin’s heartbeat against your ear.

You’re curled against him, his arm draped around your bare back, fingertips tracing lazy circles along your spine like he doesn’t ever want to stop touching you.

Neither of you speaks for a while. There’s no rush to fill the silence. It feels sacred here.

Eventually, he exhales softly, shaky. “That… happened.” He whispers.

You smile against his chest. “Mhm.” You hum.

He tilts his head slightly, nose brushing your temple. “You’re not freaking out?” He asks tenderly.

“Not yet.” You chuckle.

He laughs, warm and low. “You will?”

“Probably, later.” You say, half-truth half-lie.

He’s quiet for a second. Then out of nowhere he says, “I meant everything I said.” You look up. His eyes are on you now. “About wanting you. About… waiting. All of it.”

You reach up, your fingers grazing his cheek. “I know,” you say.

He searches your face like he’s still waiting for you to vanish. “You’re not going to pull rank on me and pretend this was a lapse in judgment?”

You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Don’t give me ideas.” You laugh but there’s a weird feeling in your chest.

He smiles, but there’s something soft behind it now. Something achingly sincere. “Can I ask you something?” He says, tentatively.

You nod.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, slow and gentle. “When did it change for you?” he asks. “When did I stop being just… the IT guy?”

You think about it. The morning he fell asleep in the break room. The first time he flinched when you got too close and didn’t pull away. The moment he touched your back at the party like it meant everything. You trace a line across his collarbone with your fingertip. “I don’t know when,” you whisper. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about you in weeks.”

He closes his eyes like your words broke something in him. Then pulls you closer, he doesn’t say anything he just holds you.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓���▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

When Monday rolls around the office looks exactly the same. Same people, same wall, same Monday blues but you feel different.

You walk through the front doors at 8:03 AM with your usual stride, heels clicking sharply against tile, coat over your shoulders, coffee in hand. Jeongin nods as you pass. Someone from legal compliments your earrings. A junior exec clears the hallway like you’re made of fire.

Exactly the way it should be. Exactly the way it was. Except Hyunjin’s already here.

You see him through the glass partition as you pass. Head down. Hoodie back on. Hair tucked behind one ear. Typing with the same quiet focus he’s always had.

Neither of you says anything. Professional. Just like you promised yourselves. Just like you have to be.

That unspoken thing, it’s there, God, it’s there.

The second his eyes flick up and catch yours, just for a beat, your breath hitches.

There’s nothing obvious on his face. No smile. No signal. Just that calm, unreadable stillness but you know. You know what his hands feel like now. You know how his mouth moves when he can’t hold back anymore. You know the sound he makes when he breathes your name against your neck and you know he’s thinking about it, too.

Because his fingers pause on the keyboard when you pass and he looks down again, fast. Too fast, like if he doesn’t, he might get up and follow you.

You enter your office and close the door behind you, and you set down your coffee with shaking hands.

You are calm. You are composed. You are in charge but your body still remembers everything.

Suddenly, you jump because your phone buzzes on your desk.

[HYUNJIN]: You’re glowing today, boss.

You tut at the meaning behind the message but you also can’t help but smile. That giddy feeling back in your chest. You reply, quickly

[Y/N]: You shouldn’t be texting whilst you’re on the job ;)

[HYUNJIN]: My bad, you looked too good for me not to mention it.

You don’t reply this time, you want to. God, you want to but you have to keep your head on straight and something about him is making you lose your head very quickly.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You’re midway through your second cup of coffee when Jeongin knocks once, then lets himself in without waiting, like always.

“Good morning, boss,” he says with a grin. “Looking particularly glowy today.”

You arch a brow without looking up. Did he speak to Hyunjin? “Do you want something or are you just here to bother me?” You say, as nonchalantly as possible.

“Can’t it be both?” His smile grows as he speaks.

You glance up over the rim of your cup. “You’ve got about thirty seconds.” You threaten in jest.

He shuts the door behind him, leans casually against it like this is social hour. “So,” he says. “The party.”

You freeze, just for a second.

Then set your mug down. “Yes. It was adequate. Why?” You say.

Jeongin tilts his head. “Adequate? That’s it?” He seems disappointed.

“I gave a speech. People drank. No one got fired. That’s a win in my book.” You say.

He narrows his eyes slightly, like he’s scanning for a hairline crack in your expression. “You disappeared early.” He comments.

“I left when I said I would.” You retort.

“And Hyunjin?” He asks, slowly. Your eyes flick up. “Also disappeared early,” Jeongin finishes, his smile crooked. “Didn’t see him after you left.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you pick up your pen and begin casually reviewing a file. Jeongin watches you for a second longer than is polite.

Then mutters, “Hmm.”

You glance at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just… curious.”

You stare him down.

He raises both hands, feigning defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop poking. Just wanted to make sure you enjoyed yourself.” He says.

You tap your pen once against the desk. “I did.”

There’s weight in it. Just enough for Jeongin to notice but not enough for him to call you on it. He nods slowly.

Then starts toward the door.

“Oh,” he says before opening it, not turning around. “Tell Hyunjin good job on the new diagnostics script. I saw it in the system this morning. Clean work.”

You look at him again.

“Hyunjin… submitted that last night?” You ask.

“Nope,” Jeongin says, smile audible in his voice. “3:24 AM.” Then he leaves.

The door clicks shut and you’re left alone in your office. Still glowy, still warm, and now smiling into your coffee.

Just a little.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

It’s after 5 PM.

Most of the office has cleared out. The lights in the hallway dimmed. Only the hum of the ventilation system and the faint clack of distant keys fill the space around you.

You’re still at your desk, reviewing a final report but you’re not really reading.

You’re thinking about 3:24 AM. About him, still writing code after you’d both already fallen apart in each other’s arms.

Your phone buzzes quietly beside your keyboard.

Internal chat.

[HYUNJIN]: I wasn’t going to say anything else today.

You stare at the message. Your heart gives the smallest stutter.

Three dots flicker, disappear then flicker back again.

[HYUNJIN]: But I’ve been thinking about your hand on my chest all day.

You inhale sharply. It’s not inappropriate, not even only sexual, it’s precise, personal.

The kind of truth you feel everywhere then, another message comes.

[HYUNJIN]: The way you held me after. Like I mattered.

Your breath hitches. You don’t respond right away. Your fingers hover above the keys.

Then you reply.

[Y/N]: You do.

There’s a pause.

Then he types:

[HYUNJIN]: Can I see you tonight?

You stare at the screen. Feel the weight of the quiet around you. The memory of his skin on yours. The way it didn’t feel like crossing a line, just finding one you didn’t know was there.

You type slowly.

[Y/N]: Come over. I’ll leave the door unlocked.

You send your address and as soon as you hit send, you finally exhale.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You change out of your work clothes when you get home into something soft. A long casual T-shirt with a small pair of cotton shorts and nothing beneath but skin. Barefoot and comfortable. No CEO bullshit.

You wash your face, leaving your skin clean, and then the door opens with a soft click.

You don’t rise from the sofa. You don’t even rush toward him or pretend you weren’t waiting.

You just look up at him and Hyunjin’s there, still in his hoodie, jacket slung over one arm, wind-swept hair and wide, blinking eyes, like he stepped out of the cold and into a dream he wasn’t sure was real. His mouth parts slightly when he sees you on the couch.

His eyes gaze over your bare legs, your nipples poking through your shirt. Your face, natural, just as you are, the warm light flickering over your collarbones.

He stands frozen in the doorway for a moment. Then he gently says, “I didn’t know you could look like this.”

You tilt your head, half-smiling. “Like what?” You ask.

“Like…” His brow furrows, like the words don’t come easily. “Like you don’t need to prove anything.”

“I don’t,” you say. “Not with you.”

That stuns him a little. You can see it, in his features, in the way his chest rises and falls, slower now, like he’s bracing against something inside him that’s unravelling.

He sets his jacket down carefully and moves towards you. “Do you know,” he says quietly, “how many times I imagined this?”

You shift slightly, arms resting on the back of the couch.

“Being in my apartment?” you murmur.

“No,” he huffs out a breath. “You, like this. Looking at me like I’m allowed to see you.”

He leans towards you, “You are,” you whisper.

Then, he kisses you, gently and it’s all devotion. His tongue prods at your lower lip and you grant him access, as they meet he climbs on top of you, slotting himself between your now open legs. His hands are everywhere but they settle, in your hair, his fingers tangled in the strands. The other, on your bare thigh, his palm needing the flesh, firmly and reverently.

His kiss though, he doesn’t rush it. It’s like he’s tasting the moment. Like every brush of his lips against yours is a thank-you. A prayer. A promise.

Your hands slide under his hoodie, fingers against warm skin. He shudders beneath your touch, breath hitching as you tug it up and off. The fabric falls away, and now it’s just him, soft in the middle, lean and warm, and entirely yours to explore. You trace the slope of his ribs with your palms, slowly.

He watches you like he’s trying to memorise the way you look right now.

His hands land on your waist now, thumbs stroking your sides as he exhales your name like it’s something sacred. Like it’s the only word he knows. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.

You smile against his mouth. “You’re just figuring that out?” You joke.

“No,” he says, brushing his lips along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. “I’ve known. Since the second I saw you. I just never thought I’d get to touch you. To tell you.”

He strips you out of your clothes like he's performing a ritual, his hands are gentle but there’s a possessive grip to them, like he’s trying to remind you how good he can make you feel. Every movement is careful but hungry, his hands tracing the length of your thighs, your hips, the curve of your waist like he’s sculpting memory. His mouth follows, pressing soft kisses to places no one else would think to cherish. He starts kitten licking one of your nipples and your arousal floods out of you so quickly you can feel it sticking against your skin, he’s naked now too. He grinds is hips while he starts to suck the bud, his eyes on you through his glasses.

You take them off and set them down on the coffee table. You want all of him, bare for you. He pinches your other nipple then rolls it carefully in between his thumb and index finger and you swear you could come just from the way he’s touching you right now. His cock slides against your folds as he moves his hips, your wetness lubes up his length.

The head of his cock runs over your clit and you shudder under him.

None of you says anything, it’s all too much to say out loud. It’s nothing like the previous time. Now he’s really feeling you, really owning you more so than when he was dominating you. He moves like he wants to earn every little sound you make. His pupils are blown, his puffy lips pouting over your wet peaks, the glide of his cock against your clit. All of it sends you over the edge, you moan out his name and he pulls off your nipple with a pop.

He licks his bottom lip then kisses you again, hot, wet and consuming. Your breath comes faster. Not from urgency, but from feeling.

Your hand trails down his jaw, to his chest and stomach. He starts to shake under your touch but you keep going until your hand is wrapped around his thick cock, you start pumping it and he breaks the kiss, “ahh, fuck y/n,” his eyes roll back, “that feels so good.”

You peck his lips and guide his length to your entrance. He gets the hint and pushes into your pussy, his eyes boring into yours as he does. The stretch is deep and grounding. You both gasp into the space between you. His forehead touches yours, and for a long moment, you don’t move. You just feel. The thrum of his heartbeat under your palm. The way his breath shakes when he’s inside you.

The way he whispers, “Is this real?” like he still can’t believe it. You answer with your body. With the slow roll of your hips. With your hands in his hair. With the soft gasp of Hyunjin from your lips.

He holds you like he’s afraid you might disappear and starts thrusting into you with deep strokes. He looks down at where his cock disappears inside you, “You’re taking me so well, such a good girl.” He whispers against your cheek, his lips connect with your skin just below your ear and he kisses you as he picks up the pace.

“Hyunjin, I’m- uhh,” you begin but he interrupts you.

“Let go for me, I’ve got you,” he says.

Your cunt clenches around him as you come, the orgasm so intense your grip on his shoulders are almost bruising. He moans at the feeling, “I’m going to breed you now, pretty girl, I’m gonna fill you up and you’re going to take every last drop for me aren’t you?” He says, sin on his tongue.

You nod, not able to speak and then his mouth as back on yours. All tongue as he shudders, his climax consuming him. The hot white come filling you and hitting your core so deliciously that you come again.

“Ahh fuck, Hyune.” You scream.

“There’s my good girl,” he says as he pushes into you deep one last time.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The air is warm around you.

The candle’s burned low, flickering softly in the corner. Your limbs are tangled, bare skin pressed to his, your head tucked beneath his chin. One of Hyunjin’s hands rests over your hip. The other moves lazily, trailing up and down your spine like he’s drawing invisible lines, just to keep touching you. Neither of you has spoken for minutes.

You shift just slightly to look at him. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, flushed from the effort of everything. He glances down at you, a lazy smile blooming at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he says, voice hoarse.

You huff a soft laugh. “And why’s that?” You ask.

“Because I’m never going to stop wanting this.” He whispers.

Your chest tightens because you don’t want to stop either.

You reach up and brush the hair from his eyes, then let your fingers rest along his cheekbone.

“We’re not supposed to want this,” you say under your breath.

“I don’t care.” He says it simply. Quietly. No drama. Just the truth.

You stare at him, heart thudding.

“You’ve changed everything,” he murmurs. “The way I see you. The way I see myself.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So you don’t. You just shift closer, pressing a kiss to the place just beneath his jaw and he exhales, arms tightening around you.

“I used to think you were untouchable,” he says, voice even softer now. “Like you belonged to another world.”

You pause. “And now?”

He smiles against your hair. “Now I know where you belong.”

You close your eyes, you don’t ask what he means because you already know, but you’re too scared to ask and he doesn’t offer it either.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The office is buzzing with Tuesday rhythm.

Murmured greetings. The hum of the espresso machine. Elevator dings and quiet typing.

You arrive first, exactly when you always do, early enough to set the tone, late enough to be human. Jeongin meets you at your door with a report already printed and highlights on page three. Everything is normal. Everything is sharp.

Then, at 9:17 a.m., exactly as he said he would, Hyunjin walks in.

You don’t look up at first. You hear his footsteps, quiet and familiar. You know his gait now. The slight drag in his left heel when he’s still waking up. The way he exhales before turning a corner.

You feel it before you see him but when you finally lift your eyes, he’s already seated at his desk in the corner of the floor, sleeves rolled up, fingers on the keyboard.

Business as usual. Except for the way he looks at you.

Just once.

Across the office. Over the tops of monitors and the edge of your assistant’s shoulder.

A glance that means nothing to anyone else.

But to you? It’s a whisper. A memory.

A promise still lingering on your skin.

Midday, you pass him in the hallway.

You’re both moving toward opposite destinations, he’s headed to the server room, you to the conference wing and for one second, you’re side by side.

You don’t touch and you both don’t speak but his fingers twitch like he wants to.

Afternoon.

An email from him pings into your inbox. Technical update, a formal and precise report but at the bottom like a hidden secret it reads;

p.s. I hope lunch was better than last time. You tend to eat too quickly when you’re stressed. Just remember to breathe.

By the end of the day, your body feels like it’s lived a week.

The building is quieter now.

Most of the staff have cleared out, the fluorescent lights flickering slightly as they power down row by row. Your heels echo faintly against the tile as you make your way to the elevators, scrolling through tomorrow’s calendar on your phone.

You press the button to call the elevator and when it pings open, as if he planned it, Hyunjin’s already in there.

His black shirt half tucked, sleeves rolled up showing his forearms that look good enough to bite. His hair slightly tousled, glasses on and he’s leaning against the side with his arms crossed, casually and something about the way he looks makes you feel feral.

However, you’re still at work so you enter without a word. The doors close and the silence wraps around you like a secret. Neither of you speaks.

But your arms brush when the lift jerks slightly downward. Your breathing shifts in sync. He glances sideways at your reflection in the mirrored panel.

You don’t look at him but your hand is close enough to his that you swear he could feel you thinking about touching him.

Three floors from the lobby, he whispers, “I kept thinking about this last night.”

You don’t look at him, but your lips twitch, barely.“About what?” You mutter back.

“This,” he says. “Just… standing next to you and not being allowed to touch you.”

Your throat tightens. The floor number ticks lower and you murmur, “You’re still not.”

He moves towards you, not touching, but close enough to feel it. You walk backwards before your back hits the elevator wall, his hands cage you in on either side of your face, he leans in and his lips ghost your jaw, then your ear and- “I know.” He says.

The elevator dings open and he steps back.

You walk out first, cool and composed. Though you feel the exact opposite, you feel his eyes on your back all the way to the exit.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Later That Night

When you’re settled on the couch after dinner, A message buzzes on your phone.

[HYUNJIN]: You looked dangerous today. I liked it.

You smile but before you’re about to respond, another message lights up beneath it.

Jeongin?

[JEONGIN]: Just a heads up, Chris will be coming in tomorrow. Be prepared.

Your stomach drops.

You stare at the screen for a moment.

Chris.

Investor. Public face. Serial flirt. The kind of man who always hovers too close and calls you “darling” like it’s his trademark.

You reply quickly.

[Y/N]: Thanks for the warning.

Suddenly you’re not looking forward to what tomorrow will bring.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

He arrives just after ten.

Christopher Bhang.

Investor. Major stakeholder. Unofficial menace.

You hear him before you see him, laughing in the hallway, talking to someone from PR like he’s already running the place. Then his voice cuts through the glass, “Ah, there she is. The queen of the floor.”

You look up as he enters, dressed like money, a tailored navy suit, no tie, top button undone. He looks the same as always, too confident, too charming, too dangerous in a way most people mistake for charisma.

He doesn’t wait for you to stand. Doesn’t offer a handshake. Just leans against the edge of your desk like it’s his favourite habit.

“I heard about the breach,” he says smoothly. “Tsk. You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

You keep your voice level. “It’s been handled.”

“Oh, I’m sure it has,” he says, eyes flicking over you. “Still, I’d like a meeting. You, a few of the board members, and the man who sorted it out.”

Your stomach tightens.

“You mean Hyunjin?” You ask, trying to sound unbothered.

He grins. “That’s the one.” He says the name like it’s unfamiliar, almost dismissive. Like he already knows exactly how to make himself feel more important in the room.

You hesitate only a second but eventually, you nod. “Fine. I’ll have Jeongin schedule something in the next hour.” You say, through gritted teeth faux smile.

“Perfect,” Chris says, pushing off your desk. “Always such a good sport.” And then, just before walking out, he leans in close enough that only you can hear. “You look even hotter when you’re stressed,” he murmurs.

You don’t react because you’ve had years of practice but as soon as he’s gone, you close your eyes for three full seconds and breathe.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

One hour later, Hyunjin sits at the far end of the table. Clean button-down. Hair tied back today. Calm on the surface but you can see it. The flick of his fingers. The way he keeps glancing at Chris. The way his shoulders are just a little too tight.

Chris is in full form.

He speaks smoothly about investor confidence, the importance of data transparency, and the value of protocol but it’s not what he says that makes the room feel smaller, it’s how often he looks at you.

Lingering glances. Half-smiles and every time Hyunjin speaks, concise, intelligent, measured. Chris interrupts him with something charming and unnecessary. “Hyunjin, right? Wow. Well done, man. You’re the one who saved our systems from imploding. I mean, if I knew that’s what was hiding in IT, I’d have made more office visits.”

A few chuckles from the table but you don’t laugh.

Hyunjin offers a polite nod, but you see that his jaw is tight.

Then Chris looks directly at you. “Honestly, I’m just glad you had someone reliable to handle it. I’d hate for you to lose sleep. Though if you ever do…” His smile sharpens. “I give excellent late-night advice.”

The silence stretches and someone coughs awkwardly.

You say nothing but you feel Hyunjin’s eyes on you and for the first time since you sat down, he looks uncertain.

Not of you but of himself.

Like something inside him just shifted and he doesn’t know how to hold it.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The meeting is nearly over.

Numbers have been tossed. Projections made. A few weak attempts at humour trickled down the table like lukewarm coffee.

You can feel Hyunjin’s stillness from across the room.

He hasn’t said much since his summary.

He doesn’t need to but you feel it, coiled quiet beneath his skin, simmering just under the collar of that pale blue shirt. Like he’s gripping something invisible just to keep from reaching across the table and saying something.

Then, Chris shifts. He leans back in his chair like a man with a winning hand and smiles at you across the boardroom. “Let’s do lunch,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The board members murmur, a few offering polite glances and chuckles. You feel several pairs of eyes drift to you, waiting.

You pause.

It’s not a real invitation.

It’s a move and you know exactly what refusing would do, what it would suggest.

Too personal. Too defensive. Too visible.

So you smile, polished and natural. “Of course,” you say. “Let Jeongin know when you’re free.”

Chris grins, victorious.

Hyunjin doesn’t move but the way his eyes drop to the table and the way his fingers press slightly harder against the edge. In the long, careful breath he lets out that no one else notices.

You don’t look at him again, not until the meeting ends. The board filters out, Chris waving over his shoulder like he owns the room. Hyunjin stands slowly, gathering his laptop in silence, his jaw still locked.

You meet his eyes for just a second as he passes behind you. Neither of you says anything but there’s something in his gaze that makes your chest tighten.

Like he’s trying not to ask, ‘Why didn’t you say no?’

You want to tell him it wasn’t real. That it meant nothing but you can’t, there are still people filtering out of the room and by the time they’ve gone, so has he.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

Hyunjin didn’t react.

Not visibly.

Not when Chris leaned back like the boardroom was his stage. Not when he said it like a done deal. Not when the smirk landed, sharp and aimed like a weapon, “Let’s do lunch.”

He just sat there and let it happen, but inside, it hurt, like someone had slipped ice down his spine and asked him to smile through it.

He knew he couldn’t object. Not here. Not like this but when he looked at you, sitting there in your tailored silence, eyes unreadable, shoulders squared like armour, he didn’t know what he was supposed to feel because part of him understood and the other part, Burned.

Now, back at his desk, the office humming around him like it always does, he can’t stop hearing it.

‘Let’s do lunch.’

Like it was nothing.

Like it wasn’t exactly what it was.

Power.

Possession.

A show.

He doesn’t blame you but that’s the worst part because he knows how careful you have to be. How many eyes are always on you. How much restraint it takes to be you and still hold everything together.

That didn’t stop the ache in his chest when Chris smiled at you like he’d already won and it doesn’t stop the way his fingers tremble now, hovering above his keyboard, unable to code a single coherent line.

What is he even doing here?

Just the IT guy.

The one who doesn’t belong in boardrooms. The one who’s not allowed to say anything when someone touches what he loves.

He should be better at this but he’s not. Not with you and the truth curls in his gut like something sharp, you didn’t look at him when you said yes.

That hurt more than anything else.

Part 4

Disclaimer - I do not own Stray kids, they are used as inspiration for fictional characters. This fic does not reflect who they are in real life. I do not own any of the images in the banner.

TAGLIST - @fairylix @hoes4minho @lilileen25 @akindaflora @tirena1 @stayjinnie @jehhskz

@alittlebitofeverything04

[hwangjoanna]

'Hack Into My Heart'

Nerdy I.T Guy/Hyunjin X CEO Boss/Reader | Office Romance AU I MDNI 18+ | Colleagues to Lovers I Slow Burn | Power Dynamics | Awkward | Angst | Love I Smut

Beneath a composed exterior, the company's powerful CEO Y/N thrives on control until a sudden cyberattack threatens to bring her entire empire crashing down. With her life's work on the line, she turns to the only person who might save it: Hyunjin, the quiet and awkward but brilliant I.T. technician. In the glow of midnight monitors, unspoken tension simmers between them as Hyunjin works tirelessly to unravel the hack, his steady hands and sharp mind battling the digital enemy. Yet it's the closeness of his determined, captivating boss that sends his heart racing. Y/n watches this soft-spoken genius pour himself into protecting her company, and with each passing hour she glimpses the passionate soul behind his shy exterior. As firewalls fall, so do the walls around their hearts.

Warnings - MDNI 18+, Swearing, Angst, Awkwardness, Mutual Pining, Power Dynamics, Eventual Smut (not in this chapter)

A/N - I hope you’re enjoying this so far! This is the second part please read the first part before you read this.

Part 1

You don’t hear the knock at first.

The afternoon has been brutal, with client calls, contract revisions and an aggressive back-and-forth with legal that left your head aching and your coffee cold. You’re halfway through reading a brief for the third time when you notice the soft tap against your door.

You glance up. “Yes?”

The door creaks open just enough for his head to appear.

Hyunjin.

His hair is slightly messier now, like he’s run his hands through it too many times. His hoodie’s back on, the sleeves a little long, and in his hands, held delicately, like he’s afraid it’ll spill is a mug. His long fingers almost wrap around its entirety.

“Sorry,” he says, voice low, eyes not quite meeting yours. “Jeongin said you hadn’t left your office all day. Thought you might need this.”

He walks in slowly and sets the mug down on the corner of your desk.

You glance at it, then back at him.

“It’s not coffee,” he adds quickly. “It’s… tea. Chamomile helps with headaches. I remember you said once you don’t like taking pills for them.”

You blink, in slight shock at the observation.

You did say that, offhandedly, maybe once, two weeks ago, when you came in late after a board meeting and rubbed your temples with your eyes closed.

You look at the tea, then at him again. “You remembered that?” You say just above a whisper.

He shrugs, smiling awkwardly. “I, uh… I remember a lot of things when it comes to you.”

Your chest tightens. Your heart is picking up under another one of your silk blouses.

The tea is warm but not just in temperature but with intention. You pick it up, fingers brushing the side of the mug like it’s the most precious gift you’ve ever received.

“I should be the one bringing you tea,” you replied with a slight chuckle, “You’re the one keeping this company from falling apart.”

His smile is soft, crooked. “You already gave me your number. That’s kind of like tea to me.”

You huff another quiet laugh and shake your head, but your eyes linger on him. Why did he have to be so sweet? So utterly honest. So himself.

He steps back slowly, hands returning to his sleeves. “I’ll… let you get back to work,” his tone almost embarrassed.

You should let him go but you find yourself calling out to him. “Hyunjin.”

He pauses at the door. Then he turns, carefully.

You hold up the mug. “Thank you.” You’re not sure how else to convey what the gesture means. He had thought of you while being busy and probably tired from his work.

His smile this time is quieter, realer and when he closes the door behind him, the office feels heavier and warmer.

You sit back in your chair, the mug pressed lightly to your lips, and you think to yourself, You’re not supposed to let yourself feel like this.

Surprisingly, the tea is exactly how you like it and he knew how you liked it.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew how you’d like other things but you didn’t allow the thought to escalate and returned to the task waiting on your screen.

You’re mid-sip when Jeongin walks in without knocking, again.

You don’t scold him, you’re too much in a good mood to do so. He pauses a few steps into the room like he knows he’s just walked into something quieter than usual.

His eyes flick immediately to the mug in your hands. He notices it’s not your usual sleek, black office mug. This one is different, simple and plain. Homemade.

Hyunjin’s.

You say nothing.

Jeongin, of course, says everything with one look. He raises a brow, shuts the door with the kind of slow, deliberate grace that says we’re doing this now.

“Is that… chamomile?” He asks, a slight mocking tone in his voice.

You give him a look. “Don’t start.” You bite back, but try not to come across defensive.

“I’m not starting. I’m just… observing.” A smile on his lips as he speaks.

You arch a brow, tilting your head slightly. “I’ve let you get a bit too comfortable with me haven’t I?” You say but it comes across as a joke.

“Maybe,” he winks, you roll your eyes and he walks over to you, drops a folder on your desk and he perches on the arm of the nearest chair. “Soooo, I see you’ve accepted offerings from the tech gods.”

“He brought it unprompted,” you say calmly, placing the mug down.

“Uh-huh… and you drank it.” He replies.

You shoot him a dry look. “I was being polite,” you say hoping he doesn’t see past the facade.

He grins. “You were being soft.”

“Jeongin.” You tut.

“Fine, fine,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Let’s talk about something safer. Like, oh, I don’t know… the staff party next Friday?”

You pause, not this again. “That’s next week?” You ask.

“Yes,” he says pointedly. “The annual chaos where we bribe everyone with food and alcohol so they forget how overworked they are.”

You sigh, leaning back slightly. “What do you need?” You say, with mock-annoyance.

“Theme approval,” he says, flipping open a small notepad from his blazer pocket. “Drink menu. Food preferences. Music vetoes and of course, whether or not you plan to attend.”

You deadpan, “I always attend.”

“You show up for forty-five minutes, give a flawless speech, sip one glass of wine and disappear before anyone can ask if you actually dance.” He chuckles.

You sip your tea and scoff a laugh, “because I don’t.” You say, holding a hand under your chin.

“Maybe you should,” he says, teasing but too knowing. “Could be good for your image. A little mystique-shattering. You’ve already started drinking tea from strange men. Why stop there?”

You narrow your eyes. “What theme are we doing?” You say, hoping he’ll drop the subject.

He flips the page. “Old Hollywood.” He looks excited, it’s actually quite sweet.

You nod in agreement, not wanting to spoil his fun. “Classy, approved.”

He scribbles a note. Placing the back of the pen against his chin in concentration, “And for the playlist?” He asks.

“No crowd-pleasers. If I hear ‘Dancing Queen,’ I’m leaving.” You shake your head at the thought.

Jeongin smirks. “Copy that.” He gathers the folder again, standing up. Then he pauses. “Should I make sure Hyunjin comes?” The playful tone is evident in his voice.

You look at him, trying not to be too obvious about it, though you would like him to be there.

Jeongin watches, attempting to read your mind before he continues. “He probably won’t unless someone tells him it’s mandatory.”

You pick up the mug again, rolling it between your hands while you think, “Tell him,” you say finally, your voice quieter. “Make sure he’s invited properly.”

Jeongin hums, then, he stops and looks over his shoulder, just before he opens the door “You know, some people wait all year for that party to get close to someone they shouldn’t.” He comments.

You don’t respond, what does he mean by that? The heat that lingers in your chest long after he’s gone tells you he isn’t wrong.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

Hyunjin had just finished repairing a corrupted file path when Jeongin showed up at his desk, holding two iced coffees and a look that immediately made him nervous.

“Peace offering,” Jeongin said, sliding one across the desk. “Also, you’re officially invited to the staff party next Friday.”

Hyunjin meets his gaze. “There’s a staff party?” He asks.

Jeongin made a dramatic sound of offence. “You didn’t know? I forgot you’re still new.”

“No one tells me anything unless the system’s on fire,” Hyunjin mutters.

“Well, now I’m telling you,” Jeongin said, nudging the drink closer. “It’s at 7:00 pm, rooftop bar, her favourite place, Old Hollywood theme. Free drinks. Everyone dresses up and nobody remembers much the next day.”

Hyunjin furrowed his brow. “Why would I go?”

Jeongin looks at him knowingly. “Because you’re part of this company and… because it’s probably the only night of the year where you can interact with people without a laptop between you.”

Hyunjin hesitated. His stomach already felt weird and tight. He didn’t do well at parties. Too many people, too much noise and too many chances to say the wrong thing.

Then, Jeongin added, too casually, “She’ll be there, you know.”

Hyunjin didn’t have to ask who he meant but that made his heart stutter.

“She always shows up,” Jeongin went on, sipping his drink. “Says it’s about visibility, but… she may stay longer than she used to.”

Hyunjin tried not to let anything show on his face.

“Don’t feel pressured,” Jeongin added, with a shrug that wasn’t casual at all, this time. “Just figured I’d tell you. So you don’t miss it.” He started to walk off, then paused. “Oh,” he said, turning halfway. “She told me to make sure you got a proper invitation.”

Hyunjin looked up.

Jeongin smiled mischievously. “Which means… she wants you there.” He says before heading out the door.

Hyunjin stared at his computer screen for a while, not seeing the code.

‘She wants you there.’

The words echoed, strange and too loud inside his chest. He thought of the mug, the tea and the way you’d looked at him yesterday, like he was something more than useful.

Like he mattered.

A party? It sounded awful but the thought of you in that space, not in your office or behind a desk, but under city lights, wearing something elegant and impossible… That thought nearly undid him. He picked up the iced coffee and took a slow sip.

Then he opened a new tab and quietly searched: Old Hollywood men’s outfit casual but not trying too hard.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

You weren’t expecting to see him.

It’s late. The office has thinned out, fluorescent lights dimmed to a dull hum, the cleaning staff murmuring behind closed doors. Your heels echo softly against the marble as you walk down the side corridor toward the parking garage, car keys already in hand.

You turn the corner and stop because Hyunjin’s there.

He’s standing by the elevator, messenger bag slung over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up again, hair a little messy like he’s been running his hands through it. A habit you find too cute. His head is tilted down, scrolling something on his phone.

He looks up at the sound of your steps and you stop a polite distance away. He straightens immediately. “Oh. Hi Y/N,” he says softly.

“Heading out?” You ask.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day.” He replies, a little hoarsely.

You glance at him. “Any updates?” You don’t want to speak about work, in case you have to speak about something else.

He nods, with a polite smile. “Minimal activity on the external IPs today. Whoever it was, they’re either regrouping or watching. Nothing got past the new firewalls. I set up a tripwire script, if they try to enter again, I’ll know.” His words are confident, and it’s attractive.

You can’t help but smile. “Good work.” You say.

The silence between you stretches for just a second too long. Not awkward, but charged. Like both of you are aware of what’s not being said.

Neither of you mentions the party. You could but you don’t. Instead, the elevator doors open. You both step in. The ride to the underground garage is quiet, but your shoulders feel close. His scent is familiar now, coffee, fabric softener and something warm.

When the doors open, you both step out and that’s when you see them again, side by side in the dim garage lights. His car, small, scuffed and loyal. Yours, sleek, ruby-red, perfect lines and polished chrome.

They don’t match.

You glance at him. He sees you do it, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Not very subtle, huh?” he says, nodding toward your car.

You smirk. “I wasn’t going for subtle.” You tease.

He smiles, a little crooked. “I figured.” He scoffs in a laugh.

You walk to your car slowly. He does too. Your footsteps echo in a strange rhythm, his softer, yours sharper. You unlock your doors at almost the same time.

You glance across the distance one more time, “Drive safe, Hyunjin.” You call over to him.

He looks at you, something soft in his eyes. “You too.” He replies.

You slide into your seat and he does the same.

Your car purrs, his hums and for just a second, as you both sit there, parked, parallel, divided by space and something else entirely, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, this tension will break.

You back out first.

He waits, like a gentleman and the thought of him lingers long after the road stretches dark ahead of you.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You should be asleep.

The city is. Even the hum of the fridge in your kitchen has faded into background noise and the only light in your apartment comes from your phone screen.

You’ve been staring at it for five minutes.

No new notifications, no emails. Just that same empty text thread you thought you’d closed out hours ago but you haven’t stopped thinking about him.

Not since the garage. Not since your cars sat parallel in silence. Not since the moment you pulled out and caught a glimpse of him still sitting there, headlights off, as if waiting for something he couldn’t name and then, your phone vibrates.

[HYUNJIN]: Didn’t get a chance to say it earlier. You looked, tired today.

You’re shocked for a moment. Did you look horrible? Unattractive? Maybe he doesn’t mean that, maybe it’s a concern.

It’s not the kind of thing most people would notice, not about you anyway. Not with your armour on but somehow he always sees what you don’t say.

[Y/N]: Long day. I’m fine. You shouldn’t be thinking about me this late.

[HYUNJIN]: Too late for that.

The silence afterwards feels loud.

You stare at the blinking cursor. At your reflection in the screen. At the part of you that wants to say something dangerous and honest.

[Y/N]: You always see things other people miss. Even when I try not to let it show.

The reply is slower this time.

[HYUNJIN]: That’s because I actually look. You don’t scare me in the same way you scare everyone else.

Your breath hitches, and he has no idea how close he is to unravelling you.

[Y/N]: Then you should be careful.

[HYUNJIN]: I’m not trying to be careful.

What? What did he mean by that? Then another text comes through.

[HYUNJIN]: I think about the way you looked at me in the hallway earlier. Like you wanted to say something and didn’t.

You swallow because you did want to say something and you still do.

[Y/N]: Maybe I was just waiting for you to.

[HYUNJIN]: Then I will. Soon.

You can’t help but feel giddy at his words.

You stare at the screen long after the message lands. Your heart is loud in the quiet room and for the first time in a long time, you want the night to pass faster because soon doesn’t feel soon enough.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The morning is unusually quiet.

Your office door is cracked open, the city still stirring beyond the tall glass windows, and the warmth of your tea curls up from your desk in soft spirals. You’re reviewing a report but your eyes keep drifting.

To your phone, to the clock and to the space where your thoughts usually don’t linger this long.

Last night’s message still hasn’t left you. ‘Then I will. Soon.’

You’re not sure what “soon” means anymore.

A knock breaks the silence.

Jeongin pushes open the door with the exaggerated care of someone about to say something unnecessary. He doesn’t even have a folder in his hands.

You narrow your eyes. “Do you need something?” You ask, suspicious of his intentions.

“Yes,” he says, dramatically. “To save you from your indecision.”

You set your pen down. “Meaning?” You huff.

He plops into the guest chair like he owns it. “Meaning the party is tomorrow night and you, our glamorous and terrifying CEO, still haven’t picked a dress.”

You raise a brow, your face stern but your eyes soften slightly. You curse your past self for training him to be so observant, “And how do you know that?” You ask.

“I know everything,” he says, with a wink. “But also, you’ve had three tabs open for evening wear since Tuesday and not one item in your cart.”

You give him a flat look. “Spying on my browsing history?” You ask, your hand pulled dramatically to your chest feigning offence.

“Monitoring morale,” he replies, smug. “Anyway, I’m just saying, if you want to make a certain someone short-circuit when you walk in, you should probably decide soon.”

You sip your tea, Jesus, he really was more observant than you realised, “Who says I’m trying to make anyone short-circuit?” You say, trying to mask your smile.

Jeongin smirks like he’s caught you red-handed. “You haven’t been yourself lately.” He replies.

You arch a brow in confusion, “And who am I, normally?” You say.

“Efficient, sharp. Ice-cold under pressure and now? You’re…” He tilts his head. “Warm, distracted. Mysterious.”

You pause. Oh my god, could you be more obvious? “You forgot ‘dangerous.’” You grin.

Jeongin winks again. “Oh, always.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the edge of your desk. “Just pick the damn dress,” he says softly. “He’ll be there.”

You don’t ask how he knows. You just nod, slowly. After he leaves, you reopen one of the tabs.

This time, your hand doesn’t hesitate.

You click Add to Cart.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Your apartment is quiet, save for the low sound of jazz playing from your speaker, something low-tempo, the kind of music you never listen to on workdays but tonight isn’t about work well, not technically, you think to yourself.

You smooth your palms down the dress. It fits perfectly. Satin, deep and dark, with a slit high enough to make you hesitate, and a neckline you’d normally never wear in a room full of your employees. A tasteful amount of cleavage, but you’re only hoping to catch one person's eye.

A certain quiet but beautiful man, with a gentle smile and a soft gaze, with fire behind it.

You study your reflection. You look hot, you smile at yourself.

There’s something in your eyes. Not nerves but… awareness. A pull in your chest like you’re standing on the edge of something you can’t name yet.

Your phone buzzes on the counter.

[JEONGIN]: The party’s officially underway. Food’s good, music’s tolerable. Hyunjin’s already here. Looking like someone handed him a tux and gave him a heart attack.

You inhale slowly. Then, another message comes through.

[JEONGIN]: No pressure but if you want to make him drop his drink, now would be the time.

God, Jeongin was like a dog with a bone, shipping the two of you, though you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful, you knew he had your back at work, but your personal life too, that was sweet coming from him.

You don’t respond to his messages, you pick up your earrings instead, silver, simple and elegant.

You take another glance in the mirror.

You haven’t looked like this in a long time, like someone choosing to be seen.

Your phone buzzes again.

[JEONGIN]: Come on, boss. Let yourself be the storm for once.

You smile. Just barely and then grab your clutch, slide your lipstick into it, and walk to the door.

Not in a rush but not slowly, either.

Because he’s there and tonight, you’re not hiding.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

Hyunjin didn’t want to go, he hated parties.

He’d stood in front of the mirror for twenty minutes, hating the way the collar sat, the way the jacket felt too stiff, the way he looked like a poor imitation of someone who belonged in a room like that but Jeongin had sent a photo of the rooftop, gold lights strung across the skyline, laughter already rising through the speakers, and a quick message underneath.

[JEONGIN]: She’s coming.

So he went.

He stood near the bar, fingers wrapped loosely around a drink he hadn’t touched, eyes scanning the crowd but not really seeing anyone. Just waiting.

He didn’t know for what.

Until it happened, the air changed first.

He didn’t hear your heels over the music. Didn’t see you right away through the crowd but he felt it.

The moment you stepped into the room. There you were.

Coming through the glass doors at the edge of the rooftop like you’d stepped out of another world. The lights hit you just enough to make everything shimmer, hair pulled back, lips the colour of something forbidden, and that dress, God, that dress. Hyunjin couldn’t believe that someone could look like sin and heaven all at once. Yet, there you were doing exactly that.

Satin, dark, like liquid against your skin. The slit high. The neckline dangerous and yet nothing about it screamed for attention.

It whispered. It owned and god did he want to own you. Hyunjin forgot how to breathe. You didn’t look at anyone else, not at first anyway.

You walked with that same impossible grace, calm, sharp, untouchable. Until your eyes found his and you paused. The noise around him blurred. All he could hear was his heartbeat thumping through his ears because you were looking at him.

Not at the board, or the finance team, or the room full of men who probably assumed you were there for networking.

Just him. His grip tightened on the glass and then you smiled, slow, intentional, for him and he knew, in that moment, without question. There was before this party and there would be after this party.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

You knew he’d be here.

Jeongin had already told you, and yet, you weren’t prepared for how he’d look.

He stands near the edge of the rooftop, half in shadow, black suit tailored tighter than you expected, his hands wrapped awkwardly around a drink he clearly doesn’t want. His hair is swept back but loose, a few strands falling near his cheek, and he’s not wearing his glasses. You can see his beautiful features so much more this way and his jaw’s tense like he hasn’t unclenched it since he arrived.

He doesn’t see you at first but when he does, when his eyes lift and lock with yours across the rooftop, everything else fades.

The chatter.

The glasses clinking.

The laughter spinning around the bar.

It all drops beneath the surface.

His gaze holds yours, not for long but enough. He looks away first and you pretend you didn’t notice.

You’re swept into conversation almost immediately. Board members, department heads, passing compliments on your dress. A few bolder comments from men who should know better. You smile and you nod along, not really listening to anyone. You drink champagne you don’t want, none of it settles. Not while you can still feel his eyes on you, glancing, flicking and pulling.

Across the rooftop, you catch him stealing another glance. He doesn’t know you see him. He’s trying to look casual about it. He’s failing and it’s kind of adorable. You can almost feel his social awkwardness from across the room.

You let the crowd move you, never toward him, just near enough to feel the space between you. He shifts when you do, like a tide matching its moon. Your shoulders brush the edge of the bar. He’s three steps away.

He doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

Someone asks you a question and you answer it. You don’t remember what you said because he’s watching you again and this time, you meet his eyes fully.

‘Don’t come closer,’ your gaze says. ‘Not yet but please stay.’

‘Stay close enough that I can feel it. The tension. The ache.’

The awareness burned beneath the silk of your dress and the black of his suit. He gets it. He always gets it.

You turn away, walking slowly back toward the centre of the rooftop, but you can feel the heat of his gaze trailing behind you like a touch that hasn’t landed yet and you think, to yourself, how much longer can you fight the inevitable?

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

It happens quietly.

A clink of a glass. A subtle dimming of the rooftop lights. A hush that moves through the crowd like gravity shifting. Then, you step forward.

Hyunjin doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath until your heels click softly across the rooftop, until you turn to face the room, until every conversation around him fades into complete stillness.

He’s seen you in a hundred meetings. He’s heard your voice steady rooms that were falling apart. He’s watched you command boardrooms without blinking but this is different.

The dress, the city skyline behind you, the faint glow of lights caught in your hair, it all feels cinematic, almost unreal. Hyunjin wishes he had his camera in this moment, so he could look back at your beauty whenever he felt like it.

You’ve never looked more authentic, more you.

You lift your glass, to begin a toast. “Thank you all for being here tonight,” you start, voice smooth, rich, confident as always.

Hyunjin’s throat goes dry.

“It’s been a year of challenges,” you continue, eyes sweeping the crowd, “but also progress. I’ve watched this company grow in ways I didn’t think possible, not just in numbers, but in trust, in resilience and in people.” Your voice unwavering.

People.

Your gaze doesn’t linger on anyone in particular but for a fraction of a second, it lands on him.

A flicker of your eyes on him, like it’s Intentional.

Hyunjin stares at you like you’re the only real thing in the world. Like he could live an entire life in the space between each of your words.

You continue, to talk about innovation, about learning to bend without breaking, about building something from the inside out. You don’t speak long. You don’t need to.

You end with a raised glass. “To the quiet work. To the people who don’t ask for attention but deserve it anyway.”

Hyunjin’s chest tightens because he knows. He knows that line wasn’t for them. It was for him. The crowd cheers, laughter ripples across the rooftop and the music fills the room again.

Hyunjin is frozen. You were going to ruin him, and he would let it happen, he’d welcome it.

Still standing at the edge of it all, drink untouched, heart rattling in his chest because the words you used didn’t sound like admiration anymore.

They sounded like want.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

You can still feel the echo of his gaze.

Even after the man from HR muttered something about “needing another drink” and made a quick exit, the weight of Hyunjin’s eyes hasn’t left you.

You didn’t ask for him to watch you, but you’re glad he did.

There’s something electric about it, his silence. His stillness. The way he never tries to insert himself into the noise, and yet somehow commands it when he looks at you like that.

Like he sees everything.

You drift through the crowd now, champagne forgotten, your smile automatic. Someone compliments your speech and someone else makes a joke about annual bonuses. Jeongin passes you a canapé and mouths, ‘he’s still watching you.’ You roll your eyes but you don’t deny it.

You feel it before you see him.

The crowd shifts. A narrow space opens near the bar and there, without warning, without a sound, Hyunjin moves through it.

He’s close, closer than he’s been all night. You don’t look at him right away but you don’t move either and as he passes behind you, like a shadow cutting through light, his hand brushes your back. Just a touch and barely there, it’s right at the small of your spine.

His palm doesn’t press and his fingers don’t grip. He doesn’t pause, but it’s enough.

Enough to send a slow, molten line straight through your core. Enough to make your breath catch and enough to make you want.

He’s gone before anyone else notices but you’re not the same anymore. Your skin is warmer, your throat tighter and your pulse louder than the music.

Suddenly, the rooftop feels too loud, too crowded, too hot. Or maybe it’s just your skin, still tingling where he touched you. Still humming from that barely-there graze on your back. It wasn’t inappropriate. It wasn’t even intimate.

You slip away when no one’s looking.

Through the side corridor, past a half-open door marked STAFF ONLY, onto the balcony where the city stretches wide and glittering beneath you.

The air is cooler here but your pulse is not.

You rest your hands on the railing, fingers curling against the metal, exhaling slowly.

Behind you, the door creaks open.

You keep your gaze away, you’re not sure if it’s him, you just hope it is.

His steps are soft, quiet as ever but you feel him the second he enters the space. That low hum under your skin returns, like something inside you is tuning itself to his presence.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just moves to stand beside you and you glance sideways.

His suit fits better than you remembered. The black of it cuts clean against the night. His hair was undone by the breeze. God he’s ridiculously hot, like a fucking super model hot, yet he’s one of the smartest men you’ve ever met, all whilst being gentle and quiet.

His eyes, when they meet yours hold something deeper now. Something that doesn’t hide behind nerves or hesitation anymore.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come out here.” He says, gently.

“I needed air,” you say, voice low.

The moment hangs in the are before he replies. “Too many people?” he murmurs.

“Too much noise.” You reply.

He nods and the silence stretches but it doesn’t feel weird or awkward, more like electric. You look out at the skyline again. “You hated the idea of this party.” You say.

“I did.” He offers simply.

“And now?” You ask, slightly hopeful that he’s not having an awful time.

He exhales, slowly. “Now I think it was worth it.” He adds.

You glance at him again, your eyes searching his. “Because of the speech?” You say just above a whisper.

His lips twitch. “Because of you.” He responds, slowly.

The quiet after that is different. It’s thicker.

He’s watching you now, really watching and when he speaks again, it’s a groan. “That dress should be illegal.” He gives you elevator eyes.

Fuck, the way he says it affects you more than you’d like to admit. To hide it, you laugh once, soft, surprised and breathless.

He smiles, eyes dropping to your lips for just a second. You look at him fully now. “That line’s dangerous.” You say, teasing a little.

He shrugs but smirks, like he’s enjoying the chase. “So are you.” He teases back.

A breeze catches your hair. You don’t move and neither does he. Suddenly, you’re not sure if the next moment will break the tension or bury you both inside it but whatever it is, it’s coming and neither of you is backing away. You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him or maybe it’s you but somehow, you’re standing closer than before. Inches apart. The music is just a thrum now, muffled by the door. The air smells like city lights and champagne and something warmer, him. His cologne. The hint of skin beneath it.

You’re not touching.

Not yet but your bodies are leaning in, breath syncing, silence folding around you like a held breath.

His eyes flick down to your lips again and your pulse picks up. You think, this is it, he’s going to kiss you. You don’t move, you just hold your breath and then… The balcony door slams open.

Voices, laughter and footsteps.

Two coworkers spill out, someone from product development, someone from legal they’re already pulling out a lighter, chatting too loudly, the scent of smoke following them like a curse.

Hyunjin jerks back. His hand falls to his side and his gaze drops to the floor.

You straighten and put your walls back in place. No one looks your way right away but the moment is broken and it hurts. One of the guys glances over and does a double-take. “Oh- sorry, didn’t realise anyone was out here.” He says.

You manage a small smile. “It’s fine.” But Hyunjin says nothing.

You can feel the heat still between you, clinging to your skin. He shifts slightly, hands in his pockets now, gaze fixed somewhere over the railing. You take a step back from the edge. “I should head in,” you say softly.

Hyunjin looks at you, not with regret but with something heavier. Like his hands are still trying to hold the moment that just slipped through them. “Yeah, Okay.” He says.

You slip past him, your arm brushing his sleeve and for just a second, he leans into the contact.

As you open the door, you don’t look back, though you know he’s watching you.

The party is still pulsing behind you, music and lights and laughter chasing each other into the early hours but it already feels distant. Hollow. Like something that happened in a different lifetime. The cold bites at your legs as you descend the rooftop steps, your heels quieter now, more deliberate. You’re walking toward the sleek, waiting limousine at the curb, and the driver opens the door when he sees you approach.

Then, you hear a voice call out, “Wait.”

You stop your movements, you can tell it’s Hyunjin before you turn. When you see him, he’s standing half in shadow, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging loose at his side. His suit is slightly rumpled now, the wind in his hair. He looks like he’s been through something. Like he’s about to do something.

Your eyes narrow, lips parting. “What?” You ask, tentatively. The moment caught you off guard, you hadn’t expected him to notice you leave.

He steps forward, his gaze on you but unreadable. “I told you I’d finish what I started, I told you I wasn’t being careful anymore,” he says.

“What do you mean?” There’s no fear in your voice, yet your heart is going a hundred miles an hour.

Hyunjin closes the distance between you with calm, quiet footsteps. The wind tugs at his jacket as he stops just in front of you, close enough to see his pupils dilate, to hear the restraint straining at the edges of his voice. “I’ve been trying to hold this back for weeks,” he says. “To be good, professional, smart, but I don’t care anymore.”

You can’t breathe. He speaks so sure, so certain. “I know what this is and I’m not going to pretend it’s nothing.” He whispers.

You can’t speak because his hand slides to the side of your face. Gentle and sure against your flushed cheek. He leans in and his lips meet yours, soft at first, like he’s worried you’ll pull away but when you don’t he deepens the kiss, his tongue slides against your bottom lip, seeking entrance and you allow it. The kiss becomes more desperate, intense, it’s honest. Like he’s pouring every unspoken word and rewriting the moments where you wanted to touch him but couldn’t. His tongue is sinful against yours and he hums in appreciation.

His mouth fits yours like it’s meant to, like all that tension, all the silence, all those ‘almosts’ were building to this one unravelling moment.

You gasp softly against him and his hand slips to the back of your neck. Your fingers curl into the lapel of his jacket.

When he pulls back, just an inch, you’re both panting and your forehead rests lightly against his. “I had to, I needed to,” he whispers.

“I know.” You reply in a breath.

He pecks the corner of your mouth, he pulls his hand away and the air cools your skin where it previously burned under his touch.

“You should get going, your driver’s waiting,” he murmurs.

You turn to look and the driver is looking everywhere but at the two of you, respectfully.

You step back and glance at Hyunjin, who has a small smile on his face, but his irises flicker with desire.

“Goodnight,” you say before you turn and walk to the car.

“Night Y/N,” he replies.

The door closes with a soft click. The driver doesn’t say anything. The partition hums as it rolls up, sealing you into silence and suddenly, it’s just you, alone in the back seat, city lights flickering against the tinted glass, your lips still tingling.

You’re sitting perfectly still, hands folded in your lap like you’re in a boardroom, Minutes have passed since kissing a man you’ve wanted for what feels like years, but you’ve not even known him that long. It’s like all those years avoiding men and their advances, a few one-night stands here and there, a few fleeting casual relationships. It’s like you were waiting for the one, that one man that would fill the slot beside you, not to suffocate you but to hold you up. To fill that empty place inside you that you didn’t even know was there in the first place. Your career had always been number one. Now you think about it, you’re not sure if it is anymore.

You lean your head back against the seat and close your eyes, but your heart’s still beating a hundred miles an hour. Your body won’t calm it’s like you can still feel him. The weight of his hand at the nape of your neck. The press of his mouth. The way he exhaled when you didn’t pull away. Just need. Honest and raw and barely held back.

The city glides past, a blur of buildings and lights. For once, you let yourself sit with the feeling instead of trying to control it.

When you get home you slip out of your heels in the hallway, dress still clinging to your skin. You need stillness. In the mirror, you catch your reflection. Your lipstick has smeared slightly and your hair is a little out of place but you’re glowing. You look real but also undone. That’s when you hear your phone buzz, you hesitate for a moment but you can’t help but check it.

[HYUNJIN]: I know I crossed a line tonight. I won’t pretend it didn’t mean something to me.

You stare at the words. Your thumb hovers over the screen while you think of what to reply but then, three dots appear.

[HYUNJIN]: I meant every second of it.

You exhale, gathering your thoughts, then type a response.

[Y/N]: So did I.

You hope he feels your honesty.

[HYUNJIN]: I’m not going to ask what happens now but I’ll be here. If you want me.

You don’t answer right away. You just read it again and again. Then, you remove your makeup, go about your nightly routine. You turn off the light and go to bed with his voice echoing in your head, ‘If you want me’.

You do want him, you’re just not sure how you’re going to navigate it yet.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You don’t set an alarm. Saturdays are the only days you allow yourself to sleep in.

You wake slowly, sunlight creeping in past half-drawn curtains, your silk sheets cool against bare skin, your mind fogged with the kind of peace you rarely let yourself have.

You stretch, roll over, and reach for your phone.

One message blinks on your screen, sent half an hour ago.

[HYUNJIN]: Is it weird if I want to see you? Not about work, I just want to see your face.

You stare at the message, your heart immediately picking up the pace. You’re not sure if you should, you can read his nerves through the text. Would it be appropriate to see him outside of work? Maybe not, but you can’t help but think maybe you should. He’s not pushing you but he isn’t pulling away either.

You type a reply before thinking too much about it.

[Y/N]: Where?

[HYUNJIN]: Anywhere you want. I’ll come to you.

You bite your lip and then, because it’s the weekend and no one owns you right now, not the board, not the calendar, not the version of yourself you have to wear during the week, you send a reply.

[Y/N]: There’s a café by the park. It’s quiet there. Corner table with the green tiles. Meet me there in an hour.

You wait and then the dots appear.

[HYUNJIN]: Okay. I’ll be early.

You sit up and for the first time in a long time, your chest feels light, excited even, much to your surprise.

You take your time getting ready. Not because you’re trying to impress him and not because it’s a date at least, not officially but because something about this morning feels different.

You choose soft fabric, a cute shirt that drapes rather than clings. So you look casual but still put together. Something no one in the office has ever seen you in. You don’t do your makeup the way you normally would. Your liner is a thin wing rather than sharp, soft shadow, no bold lip, just a ‘my lips but better’ shade, a little blush.

The version of yourself you rarely show anyone.

By the time you’re walking toward the café, the city is awake but not too busy. It’s the usual weekend energy of the city, families in the park, the clink of silverware through open windows, dogs pulling at leashes.

You spot the café half a block away and you see him before he sees you. Hyunjin’s sitting at the corner table. The one with the green tiles, just like you asked him to.

His hair is down today, falling softly over his forehead. He’s wearing a cream sweater, loose around his frame, sleeves pushed up to his forearms. There’s a mug in front of him, both hands curled around it and he’s staring out the window with this look on his face like he’s halfway between a thought and a memory.

God, he looks beautiful. Not in the sharp, untouchable way that most people try to be. Hyunjin looks beautiful because he’s just sitting there. Like waiting for you is the most natural thing in the world.

You hesitate at the corner.

You could still leave. You could turn and vanish and pretend this was a mistake but you decide you won’t do that. What’s the problem with seeing him? There isn’t one. You step forward and his eyes find you the second you move. He straightens a little, eyes wide for a heartbeat, like he can’t believe you’re real outside the office.

When you get inside you step up to the table and say softly, “Hey.”

His voice is a little breathless when he answers. “Hi.”

You sit down across from him and smile.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” he says, with a grin that seems like he won a bet against himself.

“And why’s that?” You ask almost teasingly. “I’m regularly on time to every meeting and work event.”

“Except last night,” he mutters but he’s still grinning.

You laugh at that, “I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me,” you comment.

“Oh- I’m not- I,” he stutters but you raise a hand interrupting him.

“Relax, I’m messing with you.” You laugh again and this time he joins in. You can’t help but see the way sunlight filters across the curve of his cheek, the way he tucks his fingers around his mug like it anchors him.

The conversation is light at first. You talk about how he overslept, how you almost wore heels out of habit, how neither of you knows what “relaxing” really means. He’s softer like this. Still awkward, still fumbling through pauses, but he seems more open, comfortable even. You’re starting to forget what it’s like to see him behind a desk.

He clears his throat. “I, um… I should probably tell you something.” He says, awkwardly.

“Okay,” you say, leaning in slightly.

He fidgets with his sleeve. “About the system breach.” He says hesitantly, and you frown at his words.

“This isn’t about work,” you say slowly, half-teasing but also watching him closely.

“I know,” he says, laughing nervously. He rubs the back of his neck with his palm. “I’m sorry, it’s just- I found them.” He almost blurts out the last part of the sentence catching you off guard.

You’re both silent for a moment as you take in the information. “What?” You say. Almost a little too sternly.

He winces. “The hackers. I found their trace, isolated the breach. A few days ago, actually.” He lowers his voice as if he’s worried you’ll hear it if he says it too loudly.

Your stare sharpens. “I thought we agreed the breach was still under surveillance,” you say.

“It… is,” he says quickly. “I didn’t close the report. I just didn’t tell you yet.” He bows his head slightly.

You sit back. Heart steady, but colder now. “Why?” you ask, quietly but sharp around the edges. “Why are you just telling me now?”

Hyunjin looks up, meeting your gaze. There’s guilt in his eyes but something else, something deeper. “Because…” he says slowly. “Because you trust me.” He pauses for a moment but you stay silent. “And I kept it from you anyway.” He says just above a whisper, the guilt more evident in his features now.

That lands, the betrayal, quiet as it is. It stings a little. You swallow, gaze unreadable. “Why?” you ask again but softer this time, more dangerous.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer…

Part 3

Disclaimer - I do not own Stray kids, they are used as inspiration for fictional characters. This fic does not reflect who they are in real life. I do not own any of the images in the banner.

TAGLIST - @fairylix @hoes4minho @lilileen25 @akindaflora @tirenal @stayjinnie @jehhskz

@alittlebitofeverything04

[hwangjoanna]

‘Hack Into My Heart’

Nerdy I.T Guy/Hyunjin X CEO Boss/Reader | Office Romance AU I MDNI 18+ | Colleagues to Lovers I Slow Burn | Power Dynamics |Awkward | Angst | Love | Smut

Beneath a composed exterior, the company's powerful CEO Y/N thrives on control until a sudden cyberattack threatens to bring her entire empire crashing down. With her life's work on the line, she turns to the only person who might save it: Hyunjin, the quiet and awkward but brilliant I.T. technician. In the glow of midnight monitors, unspoken tension simmers between them as Hyunjin works tirelessly to unravel the hack, his steady hands and sharp mind battling the digital enemy. Yet it's the closeness of his determined, captivating boss that sends his heart racing. Y/n watches this soft-spoken genius pour himself into protecting her company, and with each passing hour she glimpses the passionate soul behind his shy exterior. As firewalls fall, so do the walls around their hearts.

Warnings - MDNI 18+, Swearing, Angst, Awkwardness, Mutual Pining, Power Dynamics, Smut, Male Masterbation.

A/N - This is another apology for not having an update on red light, green light! I can’t believe I’m seeing Stray Kids on Friday! It doesn’t feel real, I’ve been so busy preparing that I haven’t had time to update the Squid Game fic, so I hope this lightens the blow! I usually write Hyunjin as evil or mean so I hope you enjoy this softer and nerdy version of him. Please feel free to like, comment and reblog, it really helps me out. The permanent Masterlist is open as well as requests.

Words Count - 35K (All four parts)

Today was just like any other day in the office. You had arrived early, set down your handbag on the sofa in your office and hung your light trench coat on the hook on the back of the door. You switched on your laptop and exited the room to get your morning coffee.

You were dressed in a black blouse open slightly at the top. Your dark pinstriped skirt hugged your curves and stopped at your thighs. You wore your favourite red stilettos, you were feeling good today. Make-up and hair were flawless as always. You were the kind of CEO who arrived at work looking pristine and ready to take on the day.

You were a boss that your colleagues would describe as firm but fair. You could control a room with ease. You moved with grace and had a sharp tongue. Most of the women would kiss your arse and the men would flirt shamelessly with you. You didn’t pay them any mind though. You were far too invested in your business to be distracted by that crap.

You liked being in control. You liked the power. You thrived on it.

You entered the small break room, your heels clacking against the floor. Your assistant was there, coffee in hand, early as always. You had trained him well.

He was a little younger than you. He always had a playful smile on his face, high cheekbones and flawless skin. He was a sweetheart, his fox-like features were just one of the things to admire about him.

Jeongin was good, he knew exactly how to read you. He knew how to do every task you set him with ease and with a bright response. He was a smart kid.

“Morning Boss,” he greeted with his signature smile. “Can I make you a coffee?” He asked this every morning as if it were the first time.

“Don’t you always?” You responded with a proud smirk.

He started to prepare your coffee. Already knowing exactly how you like it. Yes, you had trained him well. He passed you the cup and paused for a moment before continuing. “Is there any particular assignments you need me to go over today?” His voice was cheerful as always.

“Could you start on the Kim project?” You began, “I still have a lot to proofread before we have the presentation next week and it’s very text-heavy. We need to break it down a little, make it clearer. I think it needs a little of your magic touch on it.” You were looking through your lashes at him. You would regularly get him to do most things with a smile and a flutter of your lashes. “I’ll get on it right away boss.” With that, he headed to your office with his coffee in hand.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Your heels strike the marble like a metronome, sharp, steady, commanding. Every eye lifts as you pass, posture straight, suit crisp, your coffee in hand. The day’s already booked, and you’re three steps ahead on your way to another meeting until Jeongin appears in your periphery, breathless and wide-eyed.

“Boss!” he blurts out, clutching his tablet like a life raft. “We’ve got… a situation.” You don’t stop walking.

“Define it.” You command.

“The system’s down. All of it, internal servers, email, even the camera feeds. Nothing’s responding, and I.T. hasn’t picked up. I- I think we’re locked out.” He stutters his words at the end observing how your face falls at his words.

That slows your stride.

You turn, calm but razor-sharp. Jeongin almost crashes into you, skidding slightly on polished floors. “Who’s on duty in I.T.?” You ask.

He checks his screen, grimacing. “Just Hyunjin. The new guy.”

You exhale through your nose, a practised breath that says you’re not angry, yet, but you’re calculating. Adjusting, rewriting the day in your head. “Tell him I’m coming down, reschedule my meeting for later today if you can find a slot.” You reply.

Jeongin blinks at you, a shocked expression gracing his features. “You’re- going to I.T.?”

You don’t answer. You’re walking even faster now.

Behind you, Jeongin scrambles to keep up, whispering under his breath, “Oh god. He’s going to combust.”

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The elevator dings and echoes around the insulated walls. You step out into a hallway that looks nothing like your world of glass and polished chrome. Down here, the walls are beige. The lights flicker and it smells faintly of burnt coffee and old cables.

You’ve not been to this floor before, you’d only been required to twice and both times, you sent Jeongin in your place but today, the system is down. Your system and the only name attached to the problem is “Hyunjin.”

You turn the corner. The server room glows faintly behind glass panels, a low hum from the tech sounds in your ears but your eyes fall on the figure at the desk just outside, long limbs folded awkwardly in an office chair, one knee bouncing, fingers flying across the keyboard like he’s playing a piano too fast. He doesn’t notice you at first or maybe he does, and he’s pretending he doesn’t.

His hair falls over his forehead, messy but somehow artful. He’s in a hoodie half-zipped over a loose T-shirt, there’s wires snaking across the desk, monitors glowing in strange greens and whites. He mumbles to himself, oblivious to the world until you clear your throat.

His head snaps up and for a moment, neither of you moves.

He has big eyes and long lashes. A mouth you shouldn’t notice, but you do. Full lips a shade of berry, his eyes are dark but they shine through his large thin rimmed glasses.

Then he blinks rapidly, shoves his glasses up his nose, and nearly knocks over his coffee.

“Shit-sorry! I didn’t-I didn’t hear you come in.” He stutters.

You arch a brow. “Apparently not.” You say, sarcastically.

He laughs, nervously and it echoes strangely in the room.

“I, I was just… uh, isolating the breach. It’s not internal, which is good. Well, kind of. Not good that we’re being hacked, obviously, but better than-” He stops and looks up. “You’re the CEO.” His plump lips form an ‘O’ before he corrects himself.

You tilt your head. “You’re very observant.” His realisation is somewhat adorable to you. He stands up too fast, he’s tall and lean. Somehow more awkward upright.

“I’m Hyunjin. You probably knew that already.” He bows slightly.

You nod. “I did.”

He bites his lip. You shouldn’t notice that either.

“So,” you say, stepping closer to the desk. “Talk to me. What am I dealing with?”

He clears his throat, instantly back in work mode but there’s a pink flush crawling up his neck. “It looks like someone tried to access classified project files. They knew what they were looking for. I’m tracing their IP, but they’re good. Not… better than me, but close.” He glances sideways at you like he’s afraid he’s bragging but there’s a flicker of fire behind the nerves. Confidence that’s buried under layers of awkwardness.

“Good,” you say softly. “I need you to be better than them.”

Hyunjin nods. “I will be.” He says it like a promise and you believe him.

You linger and watch him work. The moment stretches, it’s quiet, except for the rapid tap of his fingers on the keys, they’re long and his hands are veiny. You don’t usually wait around to be impressed but something about the way he moves, the intensity, the quiet brilliance, it pulls at your focus.

“Your firewalls were strong,” he murmurs without looking up. “A little outdated though. I’d recommend rebuilding the entire network security system once we get through this.”

You hum, watching the way his jaw tenses when he concentrates. “You’re comfortable telling your boss she didn’t do enough?” You say playfully, though you’re not sure it comes across that way.

He pauses. Glances at you from under his lashes, his glasses slipping a little down the bridge of his nose before he pushes them back up with his index finger, “Only because I know I can do better for you.”

You pause for a moment. The words hang there, charged, suspended in something heavier than professionalism.

He freezes slightly, realising how that sounded. “I mean- I mean for the system. For the company. For the…I didn’t-” He gives up on explaining himself. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

You suppress a smile. “Did it?”

He swallows. The silence stretches again, but it’s not empty now. It hums. You walk slowly around the desk, pretending to look at the monitors. He stiffens just slightly as you stand behind him.

“You’re very good at this,” you say quietly.

“I-I try,” He says.

You lean a little closer, though not inappropriately. Just enough to see the slight tremor in his fingers when they pause on the mouse.

“Keep me updated, Hyunjin.” Your tone is lower than before.

He doesn’t turn, but you notice his ears are red. “Yes, ma’am.” He replies, his voice a little more confident now.

You smirk. Then walk out, heels clicking and your head held high.

You don’t see it but the second the door closes, he leans back in his chair, throws his hoodie over his face, and exhales a silent and strangled, “Oh my god.”

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The day stretches on, with meetings, phone calls, numbers that don’t line up and clients who suddenly want everything yesterday. Through all of it, your mind keeps pulling back to flickering screens, fingers on keys, a quiet voice saying, “I can do better for you.”

You don’t like being left in the dark and yet, there’s no update.

By 8 p.m., your floor is nearly empty. Jeongin’s long gone, though he texted to say Hyunjin was still working, of course, he is.

His shift should’ve ended two hours ago.

You don’t tell yourself why you go down there. Just that you need answers, you need control. Need to check on the only person who seems to understand what’s happening to your system.

The elevator hums as it descends and again you step into that strange twilight world of beige walls, low lights, and humming machines.

The hallway is quiet, but a faint glow leaks under the I.T. door. You knock once and push it open.

He’s still there, hoodie gone now, sleeves pushed up, the collars on his layered blue polo shirt a little dishevelled, hair slightly messier than before. He looks exhausted but focused, half-sitting on the edge of his desk, a monitor still running behind him.

He startles at the sound. “Oh- hi. Sorry, I didn’t realise how late it got.”

You cross your arms loosely. “Your shift ended hours ago.” You say, unamused.

Hyunjin shrugs. “Didn’t want to leave it unfinished,” his voice is soft and careful.

You glance at the glowing screen. “I came to tell you that you can go home if you want.” You offer.

He pauses.

Then he asks tentatively, “Do you want me to go home?” The question lands heavier than it should.

You tilt your head. “That depends,” you say. “Do you want to keep working?”

He holds your gaze and doesn’t stutter this time, “I’ll stay, if you need me.”

You watch him for a beat. He’s tired, maybe even running on fumes but that intensity is still there. That need to prove himself. That strange, quiet loyal fire.

You nod once and step closer. Then, without ceremony, you reach into your blazer, pull out a card, and offer it to him.

He eyes it and asks, “What’s this?”

“My direct number,” you say. “If anything changes tonight. Don’t make me come back down.”

He takes it carefully, like it might burn. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”

You catch the way his fingers hover on the edge of the card too long. The way his eyes drop to the space between you, then flick up again. There’s something unreadable in his face, grateful, maybe. Flustered, caught off guard.

You turn before it gets heavier. “Goodnight, Hyunjin.” You sing.

“Goodnight,” he echoes, so softly you almost miss it.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

A colleague had invited you for drinks at your favourite rooftop bar. The clink of ice. The glow of the skyline. Laughter from a few tables over.

You sip your drink, half-listening to the woman across from you talk about departmental drama. Lisa from HR, polished, a little loud, always a glass of wine ahead of everyone else.

You don’t usually join for these things, but tonight, the office felt too quiet. You fill each other in on your day, she shares idle office gossip with you that you laugh at though you don’t really care, If you’re honest with yourself you don’t know half of the people she’s talking about.

“So how was your day boss, any hot tea from the higher-ups?” She asks the same question as always, knowing full well you don’t share.

“Nothing as per, my life is boring you know that.” You jest. Though your mind goes back to the cute I.T. guy who’s been filling your head since the morning. Lisa seems to know everyone and their business, you think, maybe you could do some digging. “Do you know Hyunjin?” you ask, voice casual, as if it’s nothing.

Lisa’s face scrunches immediately. “Who?” She asks like he’s a nobody.

“The I.T. technician. He’s new.” You say hoping to jog her memory.

She lets out a light laugh. “Oh, that weirdo in I.T.? No, no one really talks to him. I think Jeongin’s the only one who even knows his last name.”

You nod, deciding to let it go and change the subject. Lisa doesn’t notice, thankfully, but even as you laugh at the next joke, or raise your glass to a passing toast, your mind is somewhere else. Downstairs, in a low-lit room with a tired man still at a keyboard, holding your card like it means more than it should and no matter how loud the bar gets, the thought of him lingers.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The morning starts the way all your mornings do, with sharp precision.

Shower, silk blouse, Rolex watch. An almond croissant, one hard look in the mirror. The woman staring back is a weapon, polished and sharpened and ready.

By the time you step into your car, the city’s still stretching itself awake.

Traffic is nothing at this hour. The sky is soft with haze, tinted lavender and blue and your tires hum against the road like a quiet promise. The parking lot is nearly empty when you pull in.

Except for one other car.

You slow down slightly. It’s small, old. The kind of car that humbles itself beside ones like yours. Not broken, but tired. Functional.

You’ve never seen it before.

You don’t think much of it until you push open the side door to the building and smell coffee. Not the good kind from your private office machine. The burnt kind from the communal pot.

You follow it. Past the rows of empty cubicles and darkened screens, into the break room where the light’s already on.

Hyunjin is sitting at the small, round table with one hand curled around a paper cup and the other fisted in his hoodie sleeve and he’s asleep.

His head has fallen to one side, cheek pressed to his shoulder. His plump lips are parted slightly, lashes long against pale skin. He looks impossibly young like this. Soft, nothing like the guarded genius from the night before.

For a moment, you just look at him. God, he’s pretty.

His coffee’s gone cold from the looks of it and there are smudges under his eyes, he must’ve come in hours ago.

For you, you think or hope.

The thought is uncomfortable but also warm. It leaves a fuzzy feeling in your chest, something you don’t feel often.

You clear your throat softly. “Hyunjin.” You say, gently.

He jerks upright like he’s been electrocuted his eyes are wide and his coffee sloshes. His chair nearly tips back before he grabs the table and rights himself with a sharp gasp. “Oh my god, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I was just, uh-” he babbles. He wipes at his face with his sleeve like that will erase the evidence. His hair sticks out in all the wrong directions, and the collar of his shirt is twisted under his hoodie. “I came in early,” he mumbles, eyes everywhere but on you. “I was going to run another diagnostic on the breach. I just… the coffee was really bad. I-Urm, must’ve… yeah.”

You arch a brow, arms crossing loosely. A small teasing smile on your lips, “You fell asleep in the break room?” You ask.

“I didn’t mean to!” he blurts, then winces. “I mean, yes but no. It wasn’t like I… planned it. I just thought I’d wait here until you got in. In case you needed an update.”

Then you walk over, slowly. You reach out only for the cold coffee cup and set it aside. He watches you the whole time, mouth slightly agape, his eyes looking up at you innocently.

“You didn’t have to come in this early.” You say a little sternly.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Didn’t want to be late.” He mutters.

You’re close enough now to smell the cologne on his skin and see the exhaustion in his features. “Next time,” you say softly, “don’t sleep upright in a plastic chair.”

He stares at you, blinking.

You tilt your head. “You have a desk, don’t you?” A small smile on your lips.

His mouth opens, then closes. His ears turn pink. You turn before he can answer, walking to the doorway but before you leave, you glance back.

“Thank you, Hyunjin,” you say, voice low. “For caring enough to be here.”

Then you head out the door and behind you, a man with coffee-stained breath and your number in his wallet stares after you like a puppy who just got a treat for being a good boy.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

It’s just past noon when you realise Hyunjin hasn’t left his desk once. You only notice because you’ve been watching.

Not overtly, not constantly, but enough to see the pattern. The way he works is like he’s afraid to stop. The way he disappears into his screens, forgetting food, time, and the world. He’s already ran three new system tests, forwarded two reports, and caught a data thread no one else even noticed but he hasn’t moved and the thought bothers you more than it should.

By the time you make it down to the IT floor, you’ve already made your decision.

Hyunjin doesn’t look up when you enter. He’s typing one-handed, a pen in his mouth, brows furrowed in sharp focus. His pupils darting all over the screen, it makes his skin glow green from its reflection on his face.

“You’ve been at this since before sunrise,” you say, voice calm but cutting through the silence like glass.

He jumps slightly, and he nearly swallows the pen, spitting it out into his hand.

“Hi-uh, hi. I was just updating the firewall codes. I think I figured out how they slipped through. If I can replicate it, I can…” he says rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes glanced between you and his computer.

“Eat.” You command.

He looks at you this time, wide-eyed. “What?” He asks, like the mere suggestion is insane.

“Lunch. Now.” You say not leaving room for negotiation. Though he doesn’t move for a moment.

He opens his mouth, confused. “You mean… for you?”

“No,” you say, already turning. Your sleek hair waves as you do. “For you, with me.” You don’t wait. You know he’ll hesitate.

Sure enough, behind you he gets to his feet, “Wait- uh, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine, really. I don’t want to waste your time.” He says, sweetly.

You stop at his words, instead, you turn around. A serious look on your face, no smile, in CEO mode. “Hyunjin,” you say coolly. “You’ve been working without pause. You’ve slept in the break room and whether or not you think you deserve a real meal doesn’t change the fact that you do.”

He stares at you. Lost, a bit like he’s short-circuited.

“I can’t let my best technician collapse,” you add. “It would be a terrible H.R. scandal.”

That earns a small smile from him, it’s awkward and soft. His eyes cast downward. “Okay,” he says after a pause. “If- if you’re sure.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I weren’t,” You scoff out a laugh.

You turn around again and this time, he follows, grabbing his stuff on his way, hastily.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You find a corner table when you get to the cafe. He insists on taking the seat that faces the door like it’s polite and he fidgets with the menu, clearly overwhelmed. When the waiter arrives, you order smoothly. Hyunjin mutters something about “the sandwich thing” and hands back the menu without looking up.

“You’re uncomfortable,” you say, just from your observations.

He meets your gaze for a second before looking at his lap. “A little. I just… I’ve never had lunch with someone like you.”

You frown slightly, “Someone like me?” You ask, confused.

“You know.” He gestures vaguely. “Someone in heels who could ruin my life with a single email.” He says.

Your lips curl slightly as you shake your head. “I don’t use email for that.” You jest.

He chokes on his water.

You look at him, amused. “Relax, Hyunjin. This isn’t a test.”

He tries to smile, but his leg’s bouncing under the table and his fingers twitch at the edge of his napkin. “So,” he says, forcing conversation. “What’s your day been like?”

You look at him over your glass of water, sipping it, your lipstick printed on the rim as you put it down. His eyes follow the glass and flick to your mouth for a second, before he looks around the cafe. You chuckle lowly, “Fine, and yours?” You respond.

“Uh… busy,” he doesn’t offer any more information so you push a little more.

“And what do you like to do on your days off, Hyunjin?” You ask, meeting his gaze.

He looks a little taken aback at first then he continues, “My days off?” He shrugs again, eyes flicking to his hands like he’s not sure. “I guess I do the same thing I always do. I mess with code. Build things no one will see. Clean up stuff no one notices. It’s calming, in a way… It makes sense when the rest of the world doesn’t.”

Then he pauses, he looks at you, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Sometimes I go on walks. Early, before people are really out. I bring my camera, well, not like a real camera, just the old one I fixed. I take photos of… random things. The skyline. Trees, sometimes. There’s a nature reserve near my building. It’s quiet there. Feels like the city forgets to be loud for a minute.”

Hyunjin hesitates, then says, almost shyly, “I like watching things from far away but lately… I’ve been thinking it might be nice to share it… with someone.”

You try not to think too much into what he means by that, he can’t mean you. You’re his boss, that’s all. Not wanting to let your mind wander, you lean in slightly, lips curling. “Wow,” you murmur, mock-impressed, though you’re quite the opposite. “So you’re telling me… you’re a workaholic, antisocial coder who also takes moody skyline photos on his walks?”

He really looks at you then, caught off guard by your response.

You tilt your head, grin widening. “You’re like one tragic backstory away from being every emo girl’s dream.”

He groans softly, rolling his eyes but his ears turn pink.

You laugh, biting your lip. “I’d ask to see the photos, but I feel like I’d find out they’re all blurry shots of pigeons and lampposts.”

“They’re not,” he mutters defensively.

“So there are photos?” You retaliate.

Hyunjin stares at you, realising he walked right into it, his expression unreadable. “God, you’re evil.” He huffs.

You smile at that. “I prefer scary or intense.” You joke.

He chuckles, quietly. “You mean that don’t you?”

You hum, “maybe.” You say with a wink. He looks away blushing a little.

The waiter brings over your food and Hyunjin looks happy for the distraction, he picks up his sandwich biting into it immediately, his face scrunches as he does so, cheeks puffed up from his full mouth, it’s sweet, endearing, he must be hungry. You begin eating your food and you both go quiet for a moment.

You wonder what he’s thinking about and as if reading your mind, he pulls out his phone, hesitating for a second. Then taps through his gallery, pauses, looks at you then turns the screen toward you.

A skyline, washed in violet and deep orange. Bare trees in the foreground. A sliver of water cuts through the bottom edge.

Your flicker across the photo for a moment. It’s… beautiful. Not polished, not posed.

You look at him, then back at the screen.

“Hyunjin,” you say softly, the teasing gone from your voice now. “This is… kind of stunning.”

His lips pull into a line like he’s brushing it off, but his fingers twitch where they rest near yours.

“I just… I don’t know. I saw the way the light hit the water, and I thought it was nice.” He offers.

You tilt your head, gaze still on the photo. “You have a really good eye.”

He scoffs under his breath. “For shadows and trash cans?”

“No,” you say, firm this time. Your stare meets his. “For softness. For beauty, most people don’t bother to look for.”

He goes still, his throat works around a breath and then, very quietly, barely above a whisper he says, “You think I see beauty?”

You smile. “I think you can’t help it.” You say.

For a second, he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with the warmth flooding into him. Like maybe no one’s ever told him that before and maybe it means more than either of you can say yet.

Hyunjin finally picks up half his sandwich again, but he’s more focused on you than the food. “I never thought you’d be the type,” he says carefully.

You raise a brow over your coffee. “The type for what?” You ask.

“To eat lunch with… someone like me.” His tone is soft.

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You really think I’m that predictable?” You scoff, feigning offence.

“No!” he says quickly, holding his sandwich frozen mid-air. “I mean- no. I just… You’re always so composed. Unreachable, like you exist in this separate atmosphere from the rest of us.”

You sip your coffee again. “You’re not wrong.” You reply.

He lets out a nervous laugh, setting the sandwich down. “I’m digging a hole, aren’t I?” His head turned down, looking at you over his glasses. Then, he pushes them up the bridge of his nose again.

You shrug mirroring his habit. A small grin on your lips. “Maybe, but I don’t mind watching you try to climb out.” You say, teasingly.

His ears go pink. “You’re kind of scary, you know that?” His tone, quiet.

You lean back slightly, eyes scanning his flustered expression. “And yet here you are, having lunch with me.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Guess I like living dangerously.”

You smile, slow and unexpected. “Good. I do, too.” That gets a quiet pause from him.

He watches you now, gaze steadier than before. There’s something different in it, not bolder, exactly, but clearer. Like he’s testing the edge of something he didn’t think he’d be allowed to touch.

“So,” he says after a moment, voice lower now, “why did you choose tech?”

You don’t answer right away. Most people ask because they’re making conversation but Hyunjin isn’t most people, and he asks like he actually wants to know. Like the answer might mean something to him.

“My family runs a chain of law firms,” you say eventually. “I was supposed to follow in their footsteps. Wear the same suits. Walk the same halls.” You trace the rim of your cup with a fingertip. “But numbers… patterns… logic. They made more sense to me. Code doesn’t lie. It doesn’t manipulate. It doesn’t play politics. It just is.” You say thoughtfully.

He’s watching you again. That quiet intensity back in his eyes. A smile on his beautiful lips.

“That makes sense,” he says. “You’re… kind of like code yourself.”

Your brows rise. “Oh, really?” You say, amused.

“Yeah. Elegant. Hard to crack. Probably dangerous if handled wrong.” He says, but it comes across differently, Is he flirting with you?

You huff a soft laugh. “And what about you, Hyunjin?”

He hesitates, then shrugs. “I like puzzles. Fixing things no one else can. Being the guy people only think about when something breaks.”

There’s a heaviness to it, but he wears it with a crooked smile, like he’s used to it.

You look at him, really look. The messy hair, the hoodie sleeves pushed up, the faint shadows under his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” you say quietly.

His head jerks up. “W-what?” He asks, dumbfounded.

You let it hang there, just a second longer than is appropriate. “In the context of work,” you add, sipping your coffee again. “You’ve impressed me.”

He laughs, soft and breathless. “Right… Of course. Yeah.”

You glance down. “Though I should admit, I don’t often take my employees to lunch.”

He freezes. You look up through your lashes, watching the colour rise in his cheeks.

“Is this still about work?” he asks, voice almost a whisper.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes. Interrupting the moment.

You glance at the screen, your CEO mask sliding back into place. “Duty calls.” You huff out. You stand, smoothing your skirt. His eyes glance there for a moment. “Come back with me. I’ll need your eyes on the system again before the board meets.”

He scrambles up, still a little dazed but as you lead the way out of the booth, you don’t miss the way he looks at you. Like he’s trying to decipher something far more dangerous than code.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

The air outside is cooler than before lunch and your heels click softer against the pavement now. Hyunjin walks beside you. Not behind. Not trailing. Not sprinting to keep up like Jeongin usually does. Beside.

You don’t speak for a while. Not because there’s nothing to say but because there’s something heavy and delicate in the silence, something neither of you wants to break.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin shove his hands into his hoodie pockets. His steps are long and slightly unsure, like he’s trying to match your pace without making it obvious. “You walk fast,” he says after a minute, his voice low and a little breathless, not from exertion, but from you.

You glance at him. “I have things to do. People to intimidate.” You say.

He smiles, eyes focused ahead. “You’re really good at that.” He says, but it comes across as sincere.

You hum, letting the compliment sit between you. Not overly acknowledged, but not ignored either. “Most people at the company,” he says slowly, “they don’t really look at me. Just… talk at me or around me.”

You glance sideways. His eyes are downcast, focused on the sidewalk.

You don’t know what possesses you, but you say, “I see you.”

He stops walking.

You take two more steps before you realise it and when you turn, he’s standing still, blinking at you like you just spoke in another language.

You wait.

He catches up. “Yeah. I guess you do.” Back in stride.

You both fall silent again, but now it feels different. Like it’s heavier. You pass by a bakery, and a street musician tuning a guitar. He doesn’t try to fill the quiet with nervous chatter, and you don’t rush to fill it either. It’s oddly, comfortable.

When you reach the side door of the building, he reaches forward and holds it open for you. It’s a small gesture but it causes his arm to brush close to yours. Close enough for your jacket to graze his hoodie. Close enough to feel the warmth of him as you step past.

You pause just inside and look back at him. “Hyunjin?” You get his attention.

“Yeah?” He says, looking up with intrigue.

“Next time,” you say, voice softer than you mean it to be, “just say yes the first time I ask.”

He stares at you, his dark eyes glowing warmly, lips parting but all he manages is a flustered, “Y-yeah, okay.”

You don’t smile, but you feel it wanting to spread into your features and when you walk toward the elevator, you don’t check to see if he’s still looking.

You already know he is.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You slide the file closed with a soft click, the last few words from the meeting still echoing in your mind. Numbers, projections, shallow egos talking over each other. The usual. You’ve long since learned to navigate those rooms without letting anything truly touch you but as you lean back in your chair and sip your now lukewarm coffee, something does linger.

Not a projection.

Not a spreadsheet.

Him.

You’re still thinking about the walk back. The quiet way he’d held the door. The way his eyes caught yours when you said ‘I see you.’

Then, a knock at your office door breaks you out of your thoughts. Jeongin pokes his head in before you can even say ‘come in’.

“Boardroom detox?” he grins, stepping inside with a small stack of folders. “I brought the debrief papers from the client call, and also… the cookie you didn’t eat at lunch. Thought I’d save it before someone from finance claimed it.”

“How heroic.” You say, clutching at your chest in jest.

He places it dramatically on your desk. “Also, I got your email about the updated security tags. I’ll sync with Hyunjin on the next steps.” He says Hyunjin’s name with a suspicious inflexion.

You glance up, almost casually. “You know him well?” You ask.

Jeongin pauses. A smile passes over his lips briefly. “Yeah. We went to uni together. Same program. Different ends of the social spectrum, though.”

“Meaning?” You ask, hoping not to sound too interested.

“I was loud, charming, and class president.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles before continuing. “He was quiet, genius-level smart, and constantly skipping events to rewrite code or… I don’t know, build a sentient toaster.”

You snort lightly. “And now he’s the I.T. guy that sleeps in my break room.”

Jeongin grins. “Classic Hyunjin.” He says.

You lean back a bit in your chair. “Did you keep in touch after graduation?” You try to keep your face neutral.

“Not really,” Jeongin says, thinking to himself. “He kind of disappeared for a while. Went freelance, I think. Worked on cybersecurity contracts no one was allowed to talk about. Heard rumours, but, you know. He’s always been the type to exist on the edge of things.”

You glance down at your coffee, what made him join your company? “Until now.” You say.

“Yeah. Guess something made him come back in from the cold.” Jeongin shakes his head as he speaks, his tone playful. You’re silent for a moment. He steps forward, suddenly watching you a little too closely. His foxlike eyes almost look mischievous, Fuck. “He’s been good, hasn’t he? Like, really good.” He adds.

You nod, you’ve got no complaints. “Exceptional.” You say.

Jeongin smirks. “You don’t usually say that out loud.”

You look at him, confused. “Should I not?”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “Just… interesting.”

What does he think he knows? You narrow your eyes slightly. “Don’t start reading into things.” You say, a little coldly.

Jeongin holds up both hands, feigning innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gathers the papers back under his arm, clearly trying not to smile. As he heads for the door, he glances over his shoulder. “But between us? I think he’s probably had a crush on you since his second day here.”

You try not to seem happy with that knowledge, you arch a brow. “Really?” You pretend his words don’t affect you.

“Just a theory,” Jeongin says, already halfway out. “But he asked me how to talk to you once.”

You pause before asking, “What did you say?”

“I told him to just be himself.” His brows bounce over his features.

You tsk, “That’s terrible advice.”

Jeongin laughs. “Yeah. But maybe you like that kind of thing.” He winks and then closes the door behind him as he exits the room. You stare at it for a long moment. Then, without thinking, you open your desk drawer. Pull out the business card you gave Hyunjin. The one you kept an extra copy of. Your fingers trace the handwriting. You’re not smiling but something in your chest is stirring again.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

Hyunjin didn’t mean to linger.

He was just passing through the hallway on his way back from the server room, another round of diagnostics complete, a hot tea cooling in his hand when he heard your name.

He froze.

It wasn’t intentional but something in the voice a tone too casual, too gossipy, that made him stop just behind the corner.

“…seriously, though, have you seen the CEO lately?” a female voice said, someone from marketing, maybe? “She’s always been intimidating, but lately it’s like… she’s glowing. Cold and glowing.”

Another voice laughed. “She’s glowing because she’s killing people with her eyes.”

“No, I’m serious,” the other woman said. “There’s something different. Like she’s distracted or… softer? I don’t know. Something’s off.”

“Maybe she’s finally dating someone. She needs to get laid! That would explain it. Maybe she’s not snapping necks in her sleep anymore.” The voice rang through his ears and Hyunjin’s heart kicked up a gear. The laughter didn’t bother him.

It was that one word, softer.

Like seeing you change, even slightly, was something to be dissected and whispered about. His fingers tightened around the teacup. They didn’t know the version of you he saw. Focused, sharp but also curious. Protective in a quiet, unexpected way. The way you’d offered him lunch like it wasn’t strange. The way you looked at him when you said, ‘I see you.’

They didn’t know how you softened, not as a weakness, but as something intentional.

Something… rare. He turned before they could see him. Scurrying away.

Hyunjin made his way back to his desk with too many thoughts and a pulse that wouldn’t slow. By the time he sat down, the tea was forgotten, the report still open on his screen and he was thinking about you again. He couldn’t help himself. How you’d said his name in the break room like it meant something. How your voice dropped ever so slightly when it was just the two of you. How you hadn’t asked him to stay, but how you always seemed to look relieved when he did.

He shook his head, frustrated with himself.

You were his boss. His beautiful, smart, interesting and somewhat scary boss and he was just a guy in the basement with codes and a head full of daydreams but still, when he looked at the corner of his monitor and saw your office light on through the glass walls above…

He couldn’t look away.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

The day is slow in all the wrong ways.

Meetings dragged. Emails piled up with the same recycled language, the same fake urgency. You reply to three messages without reading them twice, sign a report you don’t believe in, and sip the last of your coffee as if it can somehow shake off the creeping fog in your head.

You turn away from your screen.

Your eyes drift to the large glass wall behind your desk, overlooking the main floor.

From here, everything looks smaller. Distant. Controlled.

Except him.

You spot Hyunjin immediately.

He’s at his desk on the lower level, tucked into that quiet corner of the world like he belongs to it but even from here, he stands out. Something about the way he sits, hunched slightly forward in his chair, one hand in his dark messy hair as he stares at the screen in front of him, the other scrolling slowly down.

He’s not moving. Not typing. Just… thinking.

Focused.

You don’t realise you’ve stopped breathing for a moment.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, the way your eyes find him first. It’s been like that for a while now. Ever since that morning in the break room, that half-asleep look on his face, his plump pink lips slightly parted, the warmth of his coffee cup next to your fingertips even though it had gone cold.

It’s not attraction, well not just that. It’s… interest. Curiosity, maybe. Fascination and something more dangerous than all three.

Your hand lifts to the glass without thinking. Not touching it, just hovering. As if the gesture could close the distance between you. As if it could bring him just a little closer to your world but you don’t move.

You watch him rub his temples, lean back slowly, and let his head fall back over the top of the chair, eyes closed for just a second too long.

He looks tired.

You wonder if he’s eaten again today. If he slept properly. If he’s thinking about you the way you’re thinking about him, too often and for no good reason.

Then, as if sensing it, he shifts.

His eyes open and he looks up. Directly at your window. You don’t move fast enough to pretend you weren’t watching.

He sees you.

You see the surprise bloom on his face, the way he freezes, blinking up at you like he wasn’t sure you were real.

For one strange, silent second, neither of you looks away.

Then, he gives a small, awkward wave. Like a kid who’s been caught daydreaming and something in your chest cracks open.

You lift your hand, return the wave, calm, poised, deliberate and then you turn back to your desk but your reflection in the dark screen isn’t as calm as you want it to be.

You’re smiling, only a little but it’s real and that scares you.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

He hadn’t meant to look up.

Honestly, Hyunjin hadn’t even realised where he was in the room anymore. He’d been staring at the code for too long, the lines of numbers and functions blurring into something nonsensical. His head had fallen back out of instinct. A break. Just a second but then he saw you.

There, high above the floor. Framed in glass and sunlight like something from a photograph. Timeless, untouchable. Beautiful and you were looking at him.

He sat upright so fast he nearly knocked over the stylus on his desk, and his first instinct was panic.

What did he look like just now? Did he look stupid? Had his mouth been open? Was his hoodie riding up again?

Then his thoughts came to a standstill as his eyes met yours because you didn’t look away.

You were still looking at him and in your eyes, calm, unreadable, but undeniably focused, he saw something that short-circuited every single coherent thought in his head.

Curiosity.

Warmth.

Himself.

He lifted his hand in a stupid little wave before he could stop it. It felt ridiculous like waving at a goddess from the dirt but then you smiled.

Not wide and not overly obvious but he saw it and it was for him.

He sat there long after you turned away. Staring at the glass where your face had been. Heart thudding like he’d just sprinted up eight flights of stairs because now he couldn’t pretend anymore.

Couldn’t pretend he was just doing his job.

Couldn’t pretend he hadn’t memorised the exact way you said his name. The smell of you, floral and sweet. The curve of your delicate lips when you almost smirked. The sound of your heels fading down the hallway after you told him he’d impressed you.

Couldn’t pretend he didn’t want something more, something impossible.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, then, without thinking, he reached for his wallet and pulled out the card you gave him. He read his name in your handwriting again.

He whispered to himself, “Holy shit.”

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

You don’t need to see the glitch to know it’s minor.

A permissions error. One of those annoying pop-up bugs that filters through every few weeks when the system auto-updates. It’s something your usual team could handle but today, you don’t call them. Your hand hesitates above the phone for only a second, then you dial, Internal Extension 17 – Hyunjin.

It rings twice before his soft voice answers, slightly breathless. “Yes?”

“Hyunjin,” you say, crisp but calm. “Are you free for a moment?”

He pauses. “Uh, yes. Of course. Did something break?” His tone is sweet and concerned.

You allow yourself the tiniest smile. “My file access is being difficult. Could be nothing, but I’d rather have your eyes on it.”

“Okay boss, I’m coming up.” He says.

What is it with the way he calls you boss that gets you breathless? It’s nothing like when it comes out of Jeongin’s mouth, when he says it, it’s a sign of respect and camaraderie. With Hyunjin it’s heavy and loaded, like he’s saying something intimate? You hang up before he can say more, before you say anything more. You try not to overthink. So you keep yourself busy, you smooth your blouse. Close the unnecessary tabs on the desktop and comb your hair through your fingers, you wait, but it’s not long.

The knock is soft, as always.

“Come in,” you say, already seated, posture perfect. He walks in like someone entering a cathedral. Careful and reverent.

His hoodie’s gone today. He’s wearing a black shirt, sleeves rolled halfway to his elbows, collar slightly off-centre, like he tried. Not to impress, but to… meet you halfway?

You notice that, even if you don’t let it show.

“What’s the issue?” he asks, crossing to your desk with that quiet energy that never tries to take up space but does anyway. He looks so tall from your seat.

You turn the monitor toward him. “Just this folder. It’s locked me out twice. I’ve tried resetting credentials, but-”

He’s already moving, interrupting you from finishing your sentence. He leans forward slightly, and his fingers brush the keyboard. “Ah. Yeah. It’s that update bug again. Happened to Jeongin last week, too. I just need to override the access manually.”

You nod, watching him work and he’s close now.

Not inappropriate, just within reach. The scent of him, clean, warm, maybe faint cologne that lingers in the air. He’s focused, his glasses reflect the lights as they fall down his nose, his right hand pushing them back up on instinct, brows furrowed, lips pressed tight in concentration.

“I saw you earlier,” you say softly.

He stops typing and slowly turns to you. “You did?” He asks, almost as if he’s shocked you’d bring it up.

“Downstairs, you were leaning back in your chair like someone trying to astral project.” You giggle.

His ears turn pink. “I- I didn’t know you saw that.” He mutters.

“I see more than you think.” You say, almost enough for it to be suggestive.

His eyes flick to yours and something catches in the air.

You let it settle between you.

He clears his throat. “Well… the good news is, you’re back in.” He turns the screen back toward you, breaking eye contact but his voice is quieter now. “Was that really the only reason you called me up?” He asks.

Your heartbeat stutters. He’s still looking down.

You could lie or make a joke. You could shift the conversation but instead you say, “I prefer to deal with problems directly, with the person I trust most to fix them.”

He looks up and holds your stare, his eyes shining with an unrelenting flicker of something you can’t place. He doesn’t look away and you don’t either. It’s not a long silence, just a few seconds stretched tight with everything unsaid.

His fingers are still on your keyboard. You’re still sitting back, composed but your breath isn’t quite as steady as it was before and his eyes, usually darting and hesitant, are holding yours now.

There’s a spark there. A slow-burning awareness rising behind his quiet gaze.

“I trust you,” you say again, a little softer this time. Like you’re reminding yourself.

Hyunjin swallows, your gaze flicks to his bobbing Adam’s apple for just a second before it meets his gaze again. “I… I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me, at least not like that.” He says.

“They should’ve.” You add.

He blinks at that. His lips twitch like he wants to smile but doesn’t quite know how to, not in this moment, not with his heart thudding loud enough to hear.

You lean forward slowly, arms resting lightly on your desk, and that movement alone has his eyes following the way your blouse shifts over your breasts. “Hyunjin,” you murmur, “you’ve been working non-stop. You skipped another lunch today.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” he says, too quickly.

Your tone drops slightly, unamused by his excuse. “You need to take care of yourself.”

“I’m trying to,” he says, then falters because your face changes when he says it. Like you hear it. Like you know exactly what he meant by it.

Your hand lifts and for a second, you almost reach for him. To fix the collar of his shirt, to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. To prove to yourself, to him, that you can touch him. That this pull between you isn’t just in your head.

Instead, you draw your hand back, fingers tapping lightly against the desk.

He notices. He notices everything.

“Would it be inappropriate,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “if I said I think about you when I’m not working?”

Your breath hitches and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. Then, you ask, calmly and carefully. “Why are you telling me that now?”

He stares at you, cheeks flushed, hands clenched against the edge of the desk. His glasses falling down his nose again, but this time he leaves them where they sit.

“Because if I don’t say it soon,” he murmurs, “I’m afraid I’ll explode.”

Your lips part slightly. Not in shock but in understanding.

You rise slowly, coming to stand beside him, closer now than you have ever been. The air shifts between you, thick and silent, the world narrowing to the space where your arm almost brushes his. You look up at him. He’s almost taller when you’re this close. He waits, observing you.

“Don’t explode.” You whisper, your eyes soft.

He doesn’t say anything, he just watches you for a moment, like he’s holding a breath, holding on to the moment. He runs his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to ground himself.

Then you look away, back at your monitor. Back to control. You can’t do this, not here, not at work. Not when you’re his boss.

“For now,” you say, cool again. “Let’s just focus on the system.”

His shoulders fall just slightly, is he disappointed? Relieved? He doesn’t leave though, he doesn’t even rush to escape the tension. He just nods, slowly. “Yeah,” he says, his voice a little raw. “Okay,” but as he turns to go, he hesitates at the door and you swear he almost smiles.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

It’s just past midnight.

The city outside your window is still and quiet. Your room is lit only by the blue tint of your phone screen and the distant glow of your bedside lamp. You should be asleep. You’re not because you can’t.

You’ve been rereading the same sentence in the report for twenty minutes. Unable to fully concentrate, your mind on a dark-haired, shy man with the most beautiful features.

Your phone vibrates.

Unknown number, but you know who it is. You save the number first before reading.

[HYUNJIN]: Sorry if it’s too late. I just didn’t want to forget this.

Your pulse spikes, your thumb hovering over the screen.

He’s never texted you before, not even after you gave him your number. You waited, not that you’d admit that out loud and now here he is, blinking on your phone screen at an hour when everything feels too honest.

Another message comes through before you can reply.

[HYUNJIN]: When you said you trust me earlier, it kind of messed me up a little. In a good way, I think.

You sit up slowly, phone still in hand. Your expensive sheets fall down to your waist as you do.

[HYUNJIN]: I don’t know what this is. I’m not trying to make it weird. I just wanted you to know that I’ve never had anyone look at me the way you do.

Your chest tightens and it’s not because of what he said. It’s how honestly he said it, just pure and raw, late-night Hyunjin.

You read the messages again. Then type something. Then delete it, then type again…

[Y/N]: It’s not weird. You’re not the only one thinking about this.

Three dots, then nothing, then more dots.

[HYUNJIN]: You make it really hard to focus when I’m near you. I’ve rewritten the same line of code five times today.

You smile, slowly, under the weight of it all. You almost giggle, but you stop yourself, the fear of reading into it too much. Instead, you decide to tease him.

[Y/N]: I’m not sorry.

[HYUNJIN]: I didn’t think you would be.

It’s like he already knows you. There’s a long pause now. You don’t say goodnight. Neither does he. You just sit there, staring at the screen, letting silence do what words can’t and when you finally set the phone down, your heart is loud in the quiet room because something real is happening and you don’t think you want to stop it.

You should be professional. You should tell him your number is only for work-related conversations, and yet, you can’t, you don’t want to. He makes you feel seen and untouchable at the same time. Like you're a rare piece of art locked behind a screen in a gallery.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

AUTHOR POV

Hyunjin stared at his phone until the battery died.

He hadn’t meant to say that much. Not all at once but the words had come too easily. Something about the hour, or the silence, or the fact that you texted back.

Not with dismissal and not with silence but with something real.

He lay awake until almost 4 a.m., heart thudding, replaying every glance, every word, every breath of tension between you.

He couldn’t help his mind wander, the curve of your lips, your body in that tight but elegant blouse, your breath hitching when he told you he thought about you outside of work. He wanted to kiss you in that moment just to hear it again, to hear your sweet voice differently, lower and less controlled. He would want nothing more than to have you relinquish that control you hold in a room and give it over to him, for him.

His cock strained against his boxers at the thought of you, your smell, your hair and how it perfectly waved just past your delicate shoulders.

Hyunjin wondered what you would feel like, how your skin would feel against his fingertips. Would you whisper his name or scream it? Would you want him to be gentle or rough with you? How would you taste on his tongue?

Fuck, he couldn’t help it. He took his hardness out of his pants and began to rub his length lazily, his thoughts consumed with you and your bright eyes under your fluttering lashes. Hyunjin smiled slightly, he bet you would be tight, a pretty little pussy that would welcome him. Suck in his cock and keep him there till it was full. God, he was close now and he’d barely even touched himself, but that’s what you did to him.

He started fisting his length faster with a firmer grip. His breath was coming out broken and in sharp pants. He almost felt a little guilty for a second, like a perverted nerd who had a crush on the high school cheerleader, but the thought was fleeting.

Surely you felt it too, you spoke as if you did. Did you think about him this way? The thought caused him to come, his seed spurting out in waves over his stomach and thighs. “Y/n,” he whimpered, in the peak of his climax.

His breathing slowed and he looked down at the mess he had made. The guilt returning, what if you didn’t feel that way? What if you were just friendly to your employees and he’d read too much into it? He needed to clear his head, he had a cold shower and dropped back into bed naked, his hair still damp but he didn’t care and now, he was tired. He was exhausted but wired, too. On edge. Like he’d stepped into a different version of reality where his boss had become something more than untouchable.

Where maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to want you.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

He swiped his badge at the side entrance a little earlier than usual, hoodie zipped halfway, hair still damp from another rushed shower. He’d barely looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t. Not when his stomach was flipping inside out with the memory of your smile, your words in his phone like a secret.

As he stepped off the elevator, he didn’t head to his desk. He hesitated in the hallway outside your office. Just for a second.

The blinds were half-open. The light was soft, and it was early.

You weren’t at your desk yet but your coat was already on the back of the chair. Coffee on the corner. Signs of life, you were here somewhere.

He turned away, quickly.

Back to his desk. Back to his screen. Back to code, where things were simpler, safer and easier to control but his control was already gone the second you replied last night and when Jeongin passed by with a wave and said, “Hey, CEO’s in early again,” Hyunjin’s hands fumbled with his mouse.

Of course she is, he thought and he didn’t know what would happen next but he knew he’d never be the same.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Y/N POV

You didn’t plan to run into him.

You never plan it but the moment you step out of the elevator, another coffee in hand, hair pinned, expression cool, you see Hyunjin.

He’s coming from the east corridor with a file in one hand and a cable looped in the other. His hoodie is half-zipped again, sleeves pushed to his elbows, a pencil tucked behind one ear like he forgot it was there. He’s mid-step when he sees you and freezes.

Not visibly, not even dramatically.

Just the kind of stillness you learn to read when you’ve built a career on walking into rooms no one wants you in.

Your footsteps don’t slow. Neither do his but the distance closes like gravity pulling two planets too close together and when you finally pass one another, side by side in the narrow stretch of hallway, you say “Morning,” soft and measured.

His eyes flick to yours instantly. His eyes were wide, something glinting behind them that had nothing to do with the time of day.

“Morning boss,” he says, voice hoarse, quiet like last night’s words are still sitting in his throat.

You keep walking and so does he. A few steps later, you glance back.

He’s already looking over his shoulder at you.

Neither of you smiles but there’s something there like a weight, a hum beneath your skin, like you’ve both stepped too close to something neither of you knows how to name yet and for the first time all morning, your chest aches with the urge to turn around.

Just for a moment. Just to say his name but you stop yourself and keep walking. Behind you, so does he but the air between you is changed.

It always is now.

Part 2

Disclaimer - I do not own Stray kids, they are just used to inspire fictional characters. This fic does not reflect who they are in real life. I do not own any of the images in the banner.

A/N - This was meant to be a one shot but I got carried away writing it, so it’s uploaded in multiple parts as tumblr has a word limit 😭

Taglist - @fairylix @hoes4minho @lilileen25 @akindaflora @tirena1 @stayjinnie @jehhskz

@alittlebitofeverything04 @chloe-elise-2000

[hwangjoanna]

I need to take some time off work to recover from this one! FUCK it’s sooooo good! This Hyunjin is my favourite ever

F i r s t W o r s h i p

Vampire!Hwang Hyunjin x Reader | sacred hunger, paint-stained thighs, first bite on the gallery floor

🔞synopsis: You were just a broke barista pulling late-night shifts, trying to make rent and forget how hard life kept fucking you over. Hwang Hyunjin was the mysterious regular with ink-stained fingers and eyes that lingered too long—always showing up at 11:47PM, always watching. Then came the offer: a job at his gallery, a thick envelope, and a contract you weren’t supposed to take seriously. You did. Now? You’re in too deep. You know what he is. And you’ve let him taste you anyway.

💌a/n: WOW. I was genuinely scared I’d have to do two parts like I did for Changbin’s filthy mess of a fic but somehow??? by the grace of horny vampire gods and Hyunjin’s unhinged mouth??? it all FIT in here??? PRAISE BE. WEDNESDAY = WRECKED-NESDAY NOW, YOU'RE WELCOME. Anyway—how’s everyone’s blood pressure? Hydrated? Neck intact? Emotionally ruined by soft aftercare and paint-smudged praise?? Good. That’s the goal. p.s. Reblog if your panties disintegrated p.p.s. The gallery is now closed for renovations (they’re repainting the fuck table) p.p.p.s. If you read this with your legs crossed and still gasped out loud? You’re valid

⚠️ warnings: 18+ / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | Vampire themes (biting, blood drinking, supernatural elements) | Bloodplay & light blood consumption during sex | Oral sex (f. receiving) | Rough sex, intense dom!Hyunjin energy | Marking (bite marks, paint smearing) | Praise & worship kink vibes | Mild possessiveness | Paint kink (literally. it’s hot) | Slightly feral romantic declarations | Silly contract mentions (yes there are clauses like “mandatory hand-holding”) | Fluff, aftercare, wine, and gallery sex.

📌 Please read responsibly. Stretch. Stay hydrated. Do not let Hyunjin paint unsupervised.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » Bite Me — ENHYPEN « 0:58 ─〇───── 2:38 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

You smell like espresso grounds, paint thinner, and the inside of a subway tunnel at 3AM. Your professors would probably call it grit. Your bones would call it exhaustion. Your bank account would call it “survival with milk foam on top.”

You’re twenty-three. An art student at a mid-tier university with a great experimental program but terrible dorm plumbing. Your days are filled with critiques you don’t care about, roommates you barely see, and canvases you can’t afford to replace. Your nights? A hot mess of half-finished homework and part-time shifts at Solstice, the little coffee shop wedged between a dry cleaner and the outer walls of Luxe Health—the infamous, neon-washed medical fortress you’re pretty sure is a tax shelter for emotionally volatile rich people.

But you like Solstice. The machines squeal and the tips are trash, but it smells like cardamom and toasted almonds, and the late shifts are yours alone. No manager hovering. No influencers trying to spell their names in the foam. Just you, your playlist, and the occasional chaos of the espresso machine threatening to explode mid-steam.

You aren’t supposed to sit while on shift, but your manager isn't here and your feet are killing you, so you perch on the stool behind the counter, sketchbook balanced on your knees, the filter coffee from hours ago cold beside you. The sketch you’re working on is barely taking form—just the curve of a shoulder, a flash of a collarbone, the hint of something too tender to finish. You don’t remember who you were drawing. You never do, lately.

You’re halfway through shading a jawline when the bell over the door chimes.

You don’t have to look up. You already know it’s him. The same customer. Always at night. Always when you’re alone. Always... strange.

He’s tall, always dressed like he’s stepped out of a dream filtered through grayscale. Sometimes in loose black knits, sometimes in impossibly tailored coats. His hair changes—sometimes long and silky, sometimes tied back—but the eyes stay the same. Sharp. Curious. Slightly amused. And god, intense. Like he’s seeing things behind your face.

You don’t know his name. You’ve never asked. You just call him 11:47PM, because that’s when he always walks in. Not 11:45. Not 11:50. 11:47. Like clockwork. Like ritual.

And he orders coffee.

Not the kind of coffee someone just likes. No, he orders like it’s a test.

“Oat milk. Two shots of espresso. Honey. A dash of cinnamon. Extra hot. No lid.”

He never takes it to-go. He drinks it slow, eyes flicking over you when he thinks you won’t notice. You always notice. But you pretend you don’t. Because you’re tired. Because your tuition is due. Because you’re not letting some six-foot mystery man with perfect bone structure throw your routine off-balance.

Still, there’s something about him.

Once, he left a napkin behind with a sketch on it. Not a doodle. A sketch. Detailed. Elegant. Sharp. You recognized your hands in it. The way your fingers grip the portafilter when you’re distracted. You stared at it for five minutes, then folded it up and stuck it in your journal like a lunatic.

Another time, he asked you what your favorite pigment was.

Not color. Pigment.

You said burnt sienna. He smiled like that meant something.

It’s stupid. He’s probably some bored rich guy slumming it with overpriced coffee and staring at the help for fun. Maybe he’s one of those Luxe clients—they all give off weird energy anyway. You've heard the rumors. The place treats the ultra-rich. People say it specializes in impossible medicine. Some say it’s for trauma. Some whisper about bond therapy and blood contracts, which sounds like fantasy bullshit. You've always figured it’s just another hush-hush clinic for the elite.

Still, you’ve seen the clients. They don’t blink. And they never order anything but black coffee when they come in.

Except him.

He drinks it sweet. Always sweet.

La Venera is not open to the public.

There’s no street-facing sign, no Instagram account, no QR code by the door. If you know, you know. If you don’t—you’ll walk right past the ivy-covered building tucked behind Luxe Health’s eastern wall, mistaking it for a haunted boutique or the private home of someone obscenely wealthy.

It’s both.

Inside, it smells like centuries-old oil paint and carefully calibrated sandalwood. The ceilings are high. The air hums. There are no labels on the walls. No placards. No prices. Only magic.

Hyunjin stands barefoot in the center of his private studio, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair tied back with an indigo silk ribbon. His fingers are stained with deep violet and dried black—he hasn’t slept, hasn’t spoken, hasn’t done anything except paint her wrist over and over for the last three hours.

Not her whole body. Not her face. Not yet. Just the wrist. The way she presses it to the side of the espresso machine when she’s tired. That little flick of tension like her blood doesn’t want to stay inside.

He can’t get it right.

The angle’s off. The light’s wrong. It’s not singing like it did the first time he saw her. She had cinnamon on her cheek and ink under her nail and a smile so exhausted it almost broke him.

He slams the brush down, muttering curses under his breath, and drops into the cracked leather chair in the corner of the studio. His neck arches over the backrest, and for a moment, he just breathes.

“You’re being weird again.”

Jisung’s voice cuts through the silence like a butter knife sawing a steak. He’s perched upside down on the studio couch like a raccoon. His fangs are just barely visible as he chews on a licorice wand he definitely shoplifted.

Hyunjin doesn’t move. “You broke in again.”

“Wrong. I haunt this gallery. I’m part of the aesthetic.”

“You’re wearing crocs.”

“Vampire crocs.”

Hyunjin sighs. “Get out.”

From the doorway, a new voice adds flatly, “Don’t bother. He’s been here since lunch.”

Seungmin, in a three-piece suit with blood-proof lapels and the world’s most aggressive Excel spreadsheet tucked under his arm, steps into the room with the air of someone who has already filed two lawsuits today and is looking for a third.

“I brought your Luxe contracts. And a cease-and-desist from the Yoon heiress who said your last exhibit gave her ‘emotional vertigo.’”

Hyunjin finally opens his eyes. “That wasn’t me. That was the installation piece by the fledgling from Berlin.”

“She passed out during the opening night, so now you own it. And I had to convince the board that scent-trigger hallucinations are a therapeutic risk, not a war crime.”

Jisung snorts. “God, I love this place.”

Hyunjin sits forward, hands steepled under his chin. His tone shifts—low, measured. The Artist, not the Friend.

“Do either of you remember the girl from the coffee shop?”

Seungmin doesn’t blink. “The one who smells like fig and insomnia? Yes.”

“She’s in one of his paintings,” Jisung offers. “It’s creepy.”

“It’s not creepy,” Hyunjin mutters.

“She’s mortal,” Seungmin says carefully.

“I know.”

“She’s not your doll.”

“I know.”

There’s a long pause. Hyunjin stands. Walks toward the canvas. Looks but doesn’t touch.

“She’s also—”

Jisung groans. “Don’t say the one. If you say ‘the one,’ I’m eating myself out the window.”

Hyunjin just smiles, slow and dangerous. “She’s not the one. She’s the only. And I’m not touching her. I’m not even talking to her. I just…”

He exhales, like it hurts to hold it in. “I like the way she says my name when she doesn’t know it.”

Seungmin’s eyes narrow. “That’s poetic and deeply concerning.”

Hyunjin turns, something glowing in the edges of his gaze. “I’m going to offer her a position at La Venera.”

“No, you’re not,” Seungmin says immediately.

“Yes, he is,” Jisung grins. “And I want to watch her find out.”

Hyunjin walks back to his chair, sits down, and picks up the brush again.

“She’s going to enter my world eventually,” he murmurs, voice steady now. “I’d rather it be with a canvas in front of her… than a collar on her throat.”

Neither Jisung nor Seungmin replies.

Because they know what Hyunjin is. What it means for him to wait. What it would mean for him to take. They know the price of devotion in the hands of an Abnormal.

It’s 2:41PM on a Thursday and everything is going wrong.

The milk steamer is hissing like it wants to die. Your shift lead called in “emotionally unavailable.” You’re running on four hours of sleep and one granola bar. And worst of all—your rent is due in five days and your bank app literally laughed at you this morning.

You’ve been doom-scrolling scholarships in between drink orders. One of them requires a 2,000-word essay and a watercolor portfolio. You haven’t even finished your second sketch. You can’t even afford watercolor paper. You’re down to notebook scraps and hope.

You’re mid-pour on an iced vanilla latte when the bell above the door rings.

You don’t look up.

You’re not ready for another corporate intern with daddy’s credit card and a vague idea of what “oat milk” is.

“Is this place always this dramatic?” “It’s charming, leave it alone.” “No, really—did that espresso machine just growl?”

Your head snaps up.

There are three men walking toward the counter.

One of them is Seungmin, in a beige wool coat so sharp it could sue you. He’s holding a tablet and giving the espresso machine a look like he wants to take it to court. The second is Bang Chan—yes, that Bang Chan, CEO of half the Luxe Health empire and owner of the sleepless, protein-shake-laced aura of someone who hasn’t rested since 1802.

And the third—

The third is him.

Your 11:47PM. But it's not 11:47PM. It’s daylight. And he’s here. With people. Smiling. Laughing softly. Real.

You short-circuit a little. Because Hyunjin looks completely different under sunlight.

No coat. No all-black. Just a loose linen button-up with paint under the cuffs and sunglasses pushed into his hair. His jawline still looks carved from something divine, but now he looks… casual. Devastating. Golden.

You hate him a little for it.

He steps up last, eyes flicking over the pastry case, then to you. “Hi.” His voice is soft. Even. Like a note played low on a cello string.

You don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just stare like an idiot.

Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “This is the barista you’re always—?”

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin says sharply, but there’s color rising in his cheeks. “Shut up.”

Chan smiles like he knows too much. “He’s your biggest fan. We’ve had to adjust entire meetings around your closing shift.”

Hyunjin mutters something under his breath.

You look down quickly, cheeks hot. “Uh. What can I get you?”

They order like it’s a script. Chan goes for something double shot and over-complicated. Seungmin asks for straight black.

And Hyunjin—Hyunjin just watches you for a second too long before murmuring: “The usual. If you remember it.”

You do. Of course you do. You turn away to start the drinks, willing your face to chill out.

They take a seat near the window, just in your periphery. You hear them murmuring, laughing low. Chan mentions something about restructuring Luxe’s trauma unit. Seungmin’s complaining about paperwork. Hyunjin says nothing at all.

But you feel him watching as you work on those damn drinks. Eventually you finish them, one by one, hands steady only because they’ve done this a thousand times. Your mind, though, is chaos.

You’re behind on rent. Your scholarship essay’s still blank. You can’t afford new brushes and your last painting bled through the paper because you used the wrong primer. You’re not sure if your professor hates you or just sees you as another burnout-in-progress. You haven’t called your mom in two weeks. And now—

Now the most unsettlingly beautiful man you’ve ever met is sitting in a sunlit booth, laughing with two men who could easily buy the building you live in without blinking.

And he’s watching you. Still. Always.

The moment the last drink is capped, you straighten the tray and take a slow breath, prepping to walk it over.

But before you can move, he’s there.

Hyunjin.

He’s walked up to the counter without a sound—just appeared like smoke, lean and quiet and sharp around the edges. He reaches for the tray, one elegant hand sliding beneath it.

You blink. “I—I can bring it over.”

He tilts his head slightly, expression unreadable. “Let me.”

The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable. He doesn’t move yet. Doesn’t leave. Just stays there, holding the tray between you, like it’s an excuse.

“You looked stressed.”

His voice is low. Quieter than the steamer. Quieter than the traffic outside.

You laugh, a brittle sound. “That obvious?”

He doesn’t smile. But his gaze softens, just enough to knock the wind out of you. “A little.”

You try not to fidget. You fail. “It’s just... life.”

He nods like he understands more than he should. Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he says: “I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

Your eyes flick up to his, startled.

“Hwang Hyunjin.” He says it like a brushstroke. Like poetry. Like an invocation.

You stare. You weren’t sure he had a name. He’s always just been 11:47PM, the man who drinks cinnamon-sweet espresso and leaves art behind like breadcrumbs. Now he’s real. Named. Standing inches from you in the broad afternoon light.

You swallow. “...Hi.”

His mouth curves at the corners. “And you?”

It takes you a second to remember your own name. When you say it, he repeats it under his breath, like he’s tasting it. “Mmm. I thought so.”

You blink. “You—what?”

But he’s already turning, lifting the tray with one hand like it weighs nothing. You catch a glimpse of black ink on his wrist—just the edge of something. A sketch? A rune? You don’t know.

He glances back once before walking away, voice barely audible.

“It’s a good name. You wear it well.”

And just like that, he’s gone again—sliding back into the booth beside Chan, the tray set down with a fluid grace you try not to watch. Seungmin mutters something, Chan laughs, and Hyunjin just takes a sip of his drink like nothing happened.

But something did happen.

Your name is sitting in his mouth now. And he gave you his.

And that shouldn't matter. Not when your rent’s due and your life’s falling apart and you’re just a barista with too many side hustles and a sketchbook full of dreams.

But somehow… it does.

With the tray on the table and Hyunjin finally seated, Chan raises na eyebrow, bringing his cup closer and stirring it slowly. Seungmin on the other hand doesn’t even look up from his tablet.

“So,” Seungmin says. “You finally spoke to her. Do we call the Vatican or just update the group chat?”

Hyunjin glares.

Chan grins. “How’d it feel?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer. Just lifts his drink and stares into the foam like it holds ancient prophecies.

Seungmin closes his tablet with a click and leans forward.

“Be honest. Did your fangs itch? Did your heartbeat stutter? Did your ancient vampire soul hum in recognition when she handed you oat milk?”

Hyunjin gives him a flat look. “You’re incredibly annoying for someone whose job is literally vampire litigation.”

Seungmin smirks. “And you’re incredibly dramatic for someone who’s been simping over a mortal for nine months and counting.”

Chan, as always, tries to keep the peace. “Okay, maybe let’s not say simping. Hyunjin has… a deep artistic interest in her essence.”

Seungmin: “That is so much worse.”

Hyunjin leans back, long fingers tapping against the cup. His voice drops. “She looked tired today.”

That quiet, aching tone has Chan sobering instantly. “Hyunjin—”

“Not just physically. Tired like… like she’s been holding something up too long. Like if she puts it down, the world will fall apart.”

Seungmin sips his coffee. “Sounds like someone who’s one paycheck away from applying to vampire sugar daddy programs.”

Hyunjin doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. “I've said it before, Seungmin knows, he was there but I want to offer her a position at La Venera.”

Chan chokes slightly on his drink. “You want to what now?”

“She’s an artist. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is. I’ve seen her sketches.”

Seungmin’s brows lift. “You’ve been stealing her sketches?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “No. She leaves them out while she pours drinks and I have eyes. She drew a shoulder once that made me feel like I’d been stabbed.”

Chan wipes his mouth, trying not to smile. “Okay, but offering her a job is serious.”

“I’m not going to feed from her,” Hyunjin snaps. “I just… I want her close. I want her somewhere she can breathe.”

Seungmin taps a finger against the tabletop. “You say that now. But what happens when she starts leaving fig-scent trails in the gallery halls and you black out mid-curator meeting?”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond. He looks out the window instead, where the afternoon light hits your face behind the counter. You’re wiping down the milk steamer, focused, frowning at something sticky on the side. You bite your lip in concentration and his hand tightens around the cup.

“I won’t touch her,” he says quietly. “Not until she knows what I am. Not until she chooses it.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Chan, gently: “You know if you bond to her, there’s no undoing it. You won’t be able to feed from anyone else. You’ll start dreaming in her voice. Her pain will be your pain.”

Hyunjin nods once, solemn. “Good.”

Seungmin groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh my god. He’s already feral. We’re gonna have to put him in an emotional containment unit.”

“Do we have one of those?” Chan mutters.

Seungmin deadpans, “You’re looking at it.”

Across the room, the espresso machine wheezes again. You sigh dramatically and kick it like it personally owes you money.

Hyunjin watches, expression unreadable.

“You’re going to fall in love with her,” Chan says softly.

Hyunjin sips his drink, eyes never leaving you. “I already did.”

It’s past midnight when he shows up again.

You’re halfway through wiping down the counter, hair scraped into a loose bun, sleeves rolled up, brain fogged with exhaustion and numbers you can’t make work. Your rent spreadsheet’s open on your phone, mocking you in soft blue light. You’ve been staring at the same three digits for twenty minutes, trying to figure out what you can sell without risking prison.

The bell above the door chimes.

You don’t look up right away. You already know who it is. Only one man steps into Solstice at this hour like he owns the dusk.

When you finally glance over, he’s standing there with a look you haven’t seen on him before—calm, yes, but layered with something serious. Intentional. Purposeful.

Not 11:47PM anymore. Just Hyunjin.

He doesn’t speak immediately. Just approaches the counter with a strange gentleness in his steps, like he’s afraid he’ll scare you off.

“I have a proposition,” he says.

You blink. “You’re not even gonna order a drink first?”

He gives the smallest twitch of a smile. “No. Because this time, I’m not here for coffee.”

He places something on the counter. An envelope. Heavy paper. Deep navy. Embossed in silver foil with a symbol you vaguely recognize—an abstract flower. No words.

“La Venera,” he says, when you don’t reach for it. “My gallery.”

You look at him. Really look. He’s not dressed for night this time—no tailored coat, no dramatic scarf. Just a soft black sweater, loose at the collar, sleeves pushed up. You can see the veins on his forearms. His fingers ink-stained again.

You blink. “What is this?”

“I want to offer you a job.”

Your body stills.

He continues, quiet but clear. “I need an archival assistant. Someone to help catalogue sensory pieces, assist with restoration, prep gallery spaces. It’s a paid position. Flexible hours. Health benefits. Artistic credit if applicable.”

You stare at the envelope like it might bite you.

Then you laugh. A little wild, a little broken. “Is this because I make good coffee?”

“No.”

“Because I’m broke?”

“No.”

You fold your arms. “Then why?”

He looks at you like that’s the stupidest question in the universe. But when he speaks, it’s soft. Earnest.

“Because you’re an artist. Because your sketches hold more feeling than half the exhibitions I’ve hosted this year. Because you look at color like it breathes. And because you’re wasting your brilliance wiping down countertops at 1AM.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Try again. “Why now?”

His gaze darkens, just slightly. “Because today, I saw the stress. I saw the anxiety in your eyes. You needed something. And I have something to give.”

You stare at him, heart pounding. “You’re serious.”

“Completely.”

You hesitate. “Don’t you have, like… a board of directors or something?”

Hyunjin lets out a slow exhale, then mutters, “They've already signed off.”

You’re just standing there. Baffled. Shaking a little.

He steps closer. “You can say no,” he says softly. “But I’m hoping you won’t.”

Your hands tremble as you finally reach for the envelope. It’s heavier than you expect. Warm, somehow. You whisper, “You barely know me.”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t joke. “I know enough.” And then, quieter, almost reverent. “I know your name.”

You’re still holding the envelope when he speaks again.

“Let me give you my number.”

The words hang in the air, suspended somewhere between polite professionalism and something heavier. Denser. Your fingers curl tighter around the envelope.

He watches you closely, but not like he’s trying to push. If anything, he’s pulling back. Like he knows he’s close to the edge of something sacred.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he adds, voice softer now. “This isn’t about obligation. It’s not a test. I just… I want to give you space. Time. So if you want to ask questions, or scream at me, or send me your answer at three in the morning… you can.”

He pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and turns it toward you.

Contact Name: Hwang Hyunjin Number: already typed, waiting for you to copy it into yours.

You stare at it for a beat too long.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, voice cracking. “I just. This is a lot. I don’t usually get handed jobs by—by strangers who stare at me like I’m a poem.”

He huffs out a breath. “You’re not a poem.”

You flinch, but before the insecurity can rise, he steps in—fast, quiet, sure.

“You’re not a poem,” he repeats. “You’re the space between them. The silence that makes everything else hit harder.”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.

He glances at the phone in his hand, then at you.

“I’m not asking you to jump. I’m just—” he breaks off, then exhales, steadier. “I’m offering you a ledge. If you want it.”

You reach for your phone. Not because you’ve decided. Not yet. But because there’s something in his voice that feels like a balm. Like a promise.

You copy the number. You type his name. You don’t save it with a heart. But maybe you will later.

He takes a step back, like he doesn’t trust himself to stay too close. “Text me,” he says. “Whenever. About anything.”

You manage a nod. “Okay.”

He holds your gaze for a breath longer. Then turns. At the door, with one hand on the handle, he glances back. “I’ll see you,” he says quietly. “Soon, maybe.”

And then he’s gone. Out into the night. Leaving behind the smell of cinnamon and ink and something older, deeper, laced with longing.

You don’t open the envelope right away.

You carry it home like it might detonate, like maybe it's enchanted—because something about it feels heavy in the wrong way. Or the right way. Or the way that makes your stomach hurt a little because you haven’t eaten in six hours and now you’re anxious on top of that.

When you finally do open it—after showering, after peeling off your coffee-stained shirt, after sitting in your underwear on your bed with a bag of discount rice crackers—you read the contents three times.

Then you read it a fourth time out loud.

It’s real.

A real offer. A real gallery job. A real salary. A real health plan, for god’s sake.

You flop backwards against your bed and stare at the ceiling.

You stare at the ceiling for a very, very long time.

PROS LIST (scribbled into your sketchbook, messy):

Paid position. Regular hours. Steady income.

Access to a legit gallery?? Your professors would foam at the mouth.

Hands-on restoration work. Archive credits. ARTISTIC. CREDIT.

Actual studio space.

Might finally sleep more than five hours.

Might actually get to use your degree.

Also, Hyunjin.

CONS LIST:

He might be joking.

He might be a sociopath.

He might be a vampire.

He might be a vampire sociopath.

What if you fuck it up?

What if you fall for him?

What if you already are?

You roll over. Groan. Kick your blanket off. Pull it back on. Check the time. 3:14AM.

Your phone is still sitting on your pillow, like it’s watching you. You open your texts. His number is there, unsent to. Quiet. Waiting.

You open the keyboard. You close it. You open it again.

Type:

Hey

Delete.

Hi, it’s me from the café

Delete.

Sorry this is late

Delete.

Is the offer still open?

Delete.

I’m in.

You stare at it. Your heart is going way too fast for someone lying down. You stare at it for so long the screen goes dark. You unlock it again. The message is still there.

You hit send.

Stare at the word Delivered like it might bite you. It doesn’t. You toss the phone aside and bury your face in your pillow.

“Oh my god what did I just do.”

Your phone buzzes immediately. You freeze. Slowly reach for it.

[Hyunjin] I’m smiling like an idiot right now. I’ll send you the onboarding info tomorrow. Sleep well. I’ll see you soon.

You stare at the screen. Then, without thinking, you text back:

[Y/N] okay goodnight (don’t be creepy tomorrow)

Three dots appear. Then vanish. Then appear again.

[Hyunjin] No promises. (but I’ll try) … you’ll look beautiful there

Your heart does something dangerous. You toss the phone again, face burning.

The ceiling stares back at you, smug.

You’ve been at La Venera for a week and a half, and it still doesn’t feel real.

Your shoes still squeak a little when you walk down the main corridor. Your badge doesn’t scan right on the first try. You flinch every time someone in a power suit brushes past you, convinced you’re not supposed to be here.

But nobody kicks you out.

In fact, everyone treats you like you belong. Like you were expected. Like they knew you were coming long before you did.

Which is wild, because just two weeks ago you were trying to figure out if you could stretch one pack of ramen over three days. Now you're—

You're doing archival work. In a vampire-run gallery. Handling paintings that breathe when the lights dim. Sorting sketches that buzz with latent magic. Cataloguing scent-trigger memory pieces so old they predate electricity.

The first week at La Venera feels like walking into a fever dream with a paycheck.

You expected silence. Cold marble. Gallery girls in neutral-toned trench coats clicking their heels in unison. Instead?

You got velvet hallways that hum softly. Canvases that feel warm when you pass. A lighting system that seems to respond to mood, not switches. You don’t know what it’s wired to—but it never makes you flinch. You feel seen here. Calmer, even when you're not.

Your job, officially, is “Archival and Spatial Assistant.” Which is a fancy way of saying:

You help catalogue paintings and installations—some with titles that feel like confessions.

You help log restoration projects—most of which involve materials you've never seen before. (There was one with glass that bled when touched. You didn't ask questions.)

You prep rooms for new showings, usually with exact scent profiles you’re not allowed to adjust. (Hyunjin once asked you to “diffuse the mood of heartbreak, but quietly.” You improvised with vetiver and bergamot. He looked at you like you hung the moon.)

Your first paycheck was more than your rent.

You didn’t cry when you saw the deposit. But you did sit in the back stairwell during lunch and stare at the notification for twenty minutes while your sandwich went cold.

You’re still in school, still dragging yourself to morning lectures, still scribbling in your sketchbook on the subway—but things feel different now. Looser. Brighter. Like some part of you that had been clenched for years has finally started to uncurl.

And then there’s Hyunjin.

The man is always there. Sometimes barefoot. Sometimes covered in paint. Sometimes in clothes that make you feel like an underpaid extra in an art film.

He never tells you what to do. Just asks questions. Gentle ones. Like:

“What does this color feel like to you?” “If this canvas had a heartbeat, where would it echo?” “Would you let me paint your hands?”

You pretend to scoff when he says things like that. But your cheeks always go warm.

You’ve caught him sketching in the margins of his clipboard. You’ve also caught him watching you through the glass of the east exhibit room while you were hanging tags, like you were the art and he was the patron.

He hasn’t touched you. Not once.

But sometimes when you pass by him, your skin buzzes like you walked through a sunbeam that knew your name.

You still don’t know what kind of gallery this is, exactly. You’ve heard whispers. Felt things shift in the air when certain pieces are moved. Watched a visitor break down sobbing in front of an installation that looked like nothing but gold wire and black canvas.

You asked Hyunjin once what the gallery was really for.

He just smiled—soft, tilted, something private burning in his eyes—and said:

“Healing. For people who can’t be healed anywhere else.”

It’s vague. Maybe pretentious. But it stuck. Just like everything about him does.

Now, almost three weeks in, you’ve stopped asking if any of this is real.

Hyunjin sits in his usual seat—third from the end, closest to the windows—legs crossed, one elbow on the table, cheek propped on his ink-stained fingers. He hasn’t spoken in the last ten minutes, which is both expected and deeply suspicious.

Across from him, Seungmin is clicking through projected bond compliance data with all the energy of a man personally offended by color-coded bar graphs.

“To summarize,” Seungmin says dryly, “we’ve had a 12% increase in post-feeding bond instability among Normals, most cases linked to improper scent-regulation. I’d like to remind you all that feeding while emotionally compromised is still illegal under Article VI unless a certified specialist is present.”

Chan sighs into his third protein-enhanced blood pouch. “We know, Seungmin.”

Seungmin doesn’t even blink. “Do we, though? Or are some of us letting post-orgasmic bite patients wander off with unsealed bond marks and no stabilization protocols?”

Felix raises his hand enthusiastically. “I stabilized one with a coloring book yesterday!”

Everyone turns.

Felix beams. “We did a whole page together. She stopped crying after the glitter gel pen!”

Chan rubs his temples. “That’s not in the standard manual, Felix.”

Felix: “Healing isn’t linear.”

Hyunjin, without lifting his head: “Neither is her emotional damage now that she’s bonded to a man who calls himself BloodDaddy27 on private forums.”

Jeongin snorts from where he’s half-sprawled across his chair, spinning a silver bond-ring on one finger. “I told you guys to screen for usernames. I’ve got a list.”

Seungmin narrows his eyes. “Why do you have a list?”

Jeongin shrugs. “Field research. Curiosity. Morbid pleasure.”

Chan turns to Hyunjin, finally. “And you? Anything to report from La Venera?”

Hyunjin shifts, straightens slightly. “We’re holding steady. Emotional stabilization is optimal. I’m running two scent therapy rotations and three dreamscapes for long-term bonded patients.”

Seungmin squints. “Didn’t you onboard a new assistant?”

There’s a beat.

Then: “Yes.”

Chan perks up. “The barista?”

Jeongin grins. “The cute one?”

Felix gasps. “The fig and cinnamon girl?!”

Hyunjin glares. “Don’t call her that.”

Seungmin cocks his head. “Why not? You were calling her ‘wrist girl’ for three months before she knew your name.”

Hyunjin groans and sinks back in his chair. “I hate all of you.”

Felix reaches over and pats his hand. “We love you too, baby bat.”

Chan hides his smile behind his cup. “You gonna tell her what we are?”

Jeongin leans in, conspiratorial. “Or you just gonna wait ‘til she walks in on someone regrowing their femur in the bonding lounge again?”

Seungmin smirks. “Perfect. Add that to the minutes: Director Hwang is still emotionally constipated and in vampire love denial.”

Felix hums. “She’s gonna find out eventually, you know.”

Jeongin: “And when she does, we all get to watch.”

Seungmin exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay,” he deadpans. “That was fun. Now can we please return to the actual agenda—specifically, the surge in unstabilized bonds in non-monogamous feeding clusters—before one of you tries to host a Bachelor-style vampire dating show.”

Felix perks up. “Wait, that’s actually not a bad—”

“Felix, I will file a cease and desist on your existence.”

Chan clears his throat, trying to steer them back. “Right. Yes. Important. Legal. Medical. Bond law things.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin says. “Finally, some maturity.”

“...But,” Chan adds slowly, eyes twinkling, “I am curious how Hyunjin plans to keep his emotional regulation intact when he inevitably bites the girl he’s already spiritually married to.”

Hyunjin makes a strangled noise halfway between a growl and a whimper. “I’m not— she’s not— we’re not—”

Jeongin: “So you are planning to bite her.”

Hyunjin: “No!”

Felix: “You want to.”

Chan: “You need to.”

Jeongin: “You’ve fantasized about it.”

Hyunjin: “I am literally going to erase all of you from my dreamweaving files.”

Seungmin slaps the table. “STOP.” The lights in the room flicker in sync with his tone. Vampiric authority does that sometimes.

He breathes out slowly, resets his composure, and looks directly at Hyunjin.

“Do you have any intention of feeding from her?”

There’s a long pause.

Hyunjin lowers his gaze to the table. His voice is quiet.

“I want to present her with a blood doll contract.”

The room stills.

Jeongin sits up straight. Chan’s brow furrows. Felix’s eyes widen.

Seungmin blinks once. Twice. Then leans forward, tone razor-sharp. “You’re serious?”

Hyunjin nods, gaze still fixed on the grain of the table. “I’ve reviewed the clauses. It’s not about possession. Not even regular feeding. I just… I want her protected. Respected. And compensated. I want her to have everything.”

“And?” Seungmin prompts.

Hyunjin’s jaw tightens.

“And I’m scared she’ll run,” he admits. “I’m scared she’ll look at it and see chains. Or see me as… not human anymore. And I’ve worked so hard to earn her trust without lying. But the second she finds out what I am—what we all are—everything could fall apart.”

Felix frowns, genuinely worried now. “You don’t think she’ll understand?”

“I think she’s brave,” Hyunjin says softly. “But I also think she’s tired. The world’s been cruel to her. And I… I don’t want to be another thing she has to survive.”

A rare hush falls over the room.

Even Jeongin doesn't joke this time.

Chan leans forward, voice gentle now. “Then don’t make it about the contract. Don’t make it about feeding. Make it about choice. About care.”

Seungmin sighs, but it’s not annoyed. It’s thoughtful. “If you’re going to do this,” he says, “run it through me. I’ll help draft it. We’ll keep it clean.”

Hyunjin finally looks up. “You’ll help?”

Seungmin shrugs. “I’m already emotionally invested. Might as well make sure you don’t accidentally traumatize her with clause 14B: ‘Incidental Biting During Emotional Overload.’”

Felix beams. “She’s gonna say yes.”

Jeongin: “And then she’s gonna ruin you.”

Hyunjin exhales, slow and shaky. But he’s smiling now. Just barely. “I hope so.”

Seungmin clears his throat sharply, flipping a page on his legal pad with the precision of someone barely restraining a murder charge. “Okay,” he says, with the forced calm of a man clinging to the last thread of his sanity, “now that we’ve all emotionally waterboarded Hyunjin and collectively destroyed the sanctity of this boardroom—”

“I didn’t destroy anything,” Jeongin mutters.

“Jeongin.”

“What? I’m just saying. I was enhancing the narrative.”

Chan snorts. Felix tries (and fails) to hide his giggle behind his thermos.

Seungmin gives them all a slow, withering look. “Can we please return to the actual issue of bond destabilization among Normals before another one of you suggests forming a blood doll boy band or something?”

Jeongin perks up. “Wait—”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Hyunjin leans back in his chair again, mouth twitching. “Can I be the mysterious one with the eye scar?”

“There is no band.”

Felix whispers, “He’d look so good with an eye scar.”

Jeongin: “I’ll do it with makeup. I’ve got a kit in my car.”

Seungmin slaps his folder shut. “I swear to the ancestors, if we don’t get through the next agenda item in the next ten minutes, I’m putting you all on scent suppression for a week.”

A collective gasp echoes around the room.

Hyunjin straightens like someone just threatened his muse.

Felix clutches his throat. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Chan raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! Back to business. Jeongin, update on the revised stabilization rings?”

Jeongin sighs dramatically, sliding his chair back into place.

“I miss when this job was fun.”

Felix pokes him with a straw. “You mean when no one was watching you lick classified artifacts in the archives?”

“One time!”

Hyunjin snorts.

Seungmin slams the next report down on the table. “Focus. Rings. Reports. Regulation. Go.”

And just like that, the chaos reins itself in—barely.

It’s been almost a month since you started at La Venera.

You’ve stopped checking if the floor hums under your feet. You’ve stopped jumping every time a painting pulses in your periphery. You’ve even stopped questioning why the gallery’s scent diffusers never need refills, even though the rooms always smell exactly right—like rain before thunder, or burnt sugar, or old cedar and something you can’t name.

You’ve adjusted. You've even met Hyunjin's buddies from Luxe Health. But you haven’t stopped watching Hyunjin. And he hasn’t stopped watching you.

Right now, you’re alone in one of the smaller south studios—well, mostly alone. A half-primed canvas leans against the far wall. You’re working on a restoration sketch by request—an old piece with faded floral textures and an underpainting that bleeds through like a ghost. There’s pencil smudged along your cheekbone. A streak of burnt umber on your forearm. Your shoes are off, forgotten near the door.

It’s quiet. Warm. You feel steady.

Until the door creaks open behind you.

You glance up—already knowing who it is.

Hyunjin steps inside, coat slung over one shoulder, sleeves rolled to the elbow, jaw set like he’s preparing for emotional war. He pauses when he sees you barefoot, brush between your teeth, squinting at the canvas.

His lips twitch.

“You look like you’ve been painting with your face.”

You take the brush out of your mouth. “It’s called immersive technique.”

He smiles faintly. Then his gaze flicks toward the table in the corner, where a slim leather folder now sits—dark red, worn at the edges. You didn’t notice him set it down.

That… isn’t good.

Hyunjin clears his throat.

“Do you have a minute?” he asks.

You nod slowly, placing your palette down. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t sit immediately. Just stands there, like he’s trying to figure out the least terrifying way to do something obviously terrifying. Finally, with an exhale, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bench across from you, legs long, fingers clasped in his lap.

“I’ve been working on something,” he says. “With Seungmin.”

You glance toward the folder.

“That?”

“Yes.”

You wait. He doesn’t speak. You raise a brow. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m dying?”

“No,” he says quickly. Then, grimacing: “Unless you decide to sprint full-speed out the door after I explain what this is. In which case, I may die. Of humiliation.”

You laugh once, caught off-guard.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Okay, I need to do this right.”

Then he looks at you—really looks—and the air in the room shifts. Grows heavy. Intent. “I think you’ve noticed by now… that I’m not quite like most people.”

You stare. He waits.

“…Yeah,” you say slowly. “I’ve noticed.”

He doesn’t blink. “What gave it away?”

You tick off your fingers. “You don’t breathe when you’re focused. You appear in rooms I swear you weren’t in two seconds ago. You move like you're made of silk and threat. You smell like rain and blood and something I don’t have words for. Also, Jeongin called you ‘feral batboy’ when he thought I wasn’t listening.”

Hyunjin’s face does something strange—somewhere between resigned and lightly horrified.

“Of course he did.”

You cross your arms, heart suddenly loud in your chest. “So? What are you?”

He leans forward slightly. Doesn’t reach for you. Just lets the silence stretch. “I’m a vampire.”

The words hang in the air like brushstrokes left too wet on canvas. You blink. Wait for your body to panic. It doesn’t.

“…Okay,” you say.

Hyunjin blinks. “Okay?”

“I mean,” you shrug, “I figured. Kinda hard not to. Also, no one human makes eye contact like you without committing a felony.”

He laughs—soft, breathy, almost disbelieving.

You tilt your head. “So what’s in the folder?”

His expression shifts again. Calmer now. Serious. But not cold. “It’s a contract. For a Blood Doll agreement.”

You still.

He rushes to explain—calm, careful, every word deliberate.

“It’s not ownership. It’s not servitude. It’s a choice. A protected, mutually beneficial arrangement. It would allow me to feed from you—with your consent only—and, in return, provide you with access to protection, medical care, housing if you ever need it, and a bond stabilizer on-call.”

You exhale slowly, mind racing.

He holds your gaze. “But I don’t want to pressure you. That’s why I waited. That’s why I’m telling you everything now.”

You look down at the folder. Then back at him. “Why me?” you ask, voice quieter now. “Why me, Hyunjin?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Because your heartbeat was the first sound I wanted to make into art.”

You stare at him for a beat longer, then drop your eyes to the folder in front of you, fingers brushing the cover. It’s warm, like it’s been held too long—like it carries the tension still sitting in his shoulders.

You can feel his eyes on you. Expectant. Bracing.

You sigh.

“…Hyunjin,” you say slowly, “you’re looking at me like I’m supposed to faint or something.”

He stiffens. “You’re not… disturbed?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You drink blood. You run a dream-soaked gallery with haunted walls. I’m pretty sure I saw a man disappear into a painting last Tuesday. Honestly, this is the least weird part.”

He blinks. “You believe me?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not scared?”

“No?”

“You’re not going to, I don’t know—throw holy water at me or ask if I sparkle in the sun?”

You squint. “Do you?”

“No!”

“Then what are you freaking out about?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Stands up suddenly and starts pacing—back and forth like an immortal cat having a meltdown.

“I had a whole speech prepared,” he mutters. “I had metaphors. Emotional imagery. I was going to offer to let you touch my fangs.”

You make a face. “Okay, that’s a weird opening.”

“I thought you’d panic!” he snaps, waving a hand. “Or scream. Or tell me I was insane. I rehearsed how to calm you down for days. I had Felix run empathy drills with me. Jeongin staged a mock-rejection so I’d practice emotional resilience!”

You blink. “He what?”

“He wore a wig and pretended to be you! It was very moving!”

You burst out laughing—actual, full-bodied, shoulders-shaking laughter. “Oh my god.”

Hyunjin stops pacing. Watches you like you’ve grown a second head.

You wipe a tear. “I’m sorry. You’re just… you’re so stressed.”

“Of course I’m stressed,” he groans, dragging a hand through his hair again. “You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to ask this of. And you’re just—casually accepting it like I invited you to brunch.”

You give him a crooked smile. “Would there be coffee at vampire brunch?”

He groans louder, flopping dramatically onto the studio chaise like he’s ready to die (again). “You’re going to kill me. Emotionally.”

“Not unless you bite me first.”

He stares at you, stunned into silence.

You blink. Then laugh again. “Kidding! Kind of. Jesus.”

There’s a long pause. Then—quiet, strained: “Do you want to read it?” he asks, nodding toward the folder.

You meet his eyes. “Can I ask you something first?”

He nods.

“…Does it hurt?”

That stills him. “No,” he says softly. “Not if it’s done right. Not if it’s wanted.”

You stare at him a moment longer. Then slowly—very slowly—you pull the folder toward you. Your heart’s beating harder now, but not from fear. You’re curious. You’re cautious. But you’re not afraid.

You finally open the folder, and the first page is neat, clinical. Printed on heavy cream stock, sealed with Luxe Health’s red insignia in the top right corner. There’s a faint scent to the page—something like lavender and rain-damp cedar. You’re willing to bet that’s Hyunjin’s idea.

You read aloud, slow and skeptical: “This agreement is formed between the consenting parties, hereinafter referred to as the Donor and the Vampire.”

You look up. “Did you really label yourself ‘the Vampire’?”

Hyunjin, sitting cross-legged across from you, flushes faintly. “Seungmin said it was legally required.”

You turn the page. Clause 2: Consent and Clarity. It’s fine. It’s detailed. It’s normal.

Until you reach the end of the paragraph:

“The Donor is entitled to withdraw consent at any time, with immediate cessation of physical or magical interaction. Unless, per emergency clause 4.6, the Vampire is in feral state or otherwise mentally compromised—see Appendix B: ‘What To Do If I’m Feral.’”

You lower the page slowly.

Hyunjin avoids your eyes. “I didn’t want you to be unprepared.”

You turn to Appendix B. At the top of the page—written in his handwriting: “Step 1: Say my name. Calmly. Softly if you can. If I’m too far gone, step 2 is—”

You squint. “Hyunjin, is this a poem?”

He’s blushing now, full-body. “It’s a… poetic protocol.”

“Who let you write this?”

“Seungmin! But he had a migraine and said ‘do whatever, I don’t care if she thinks you’re a rabid squirrel.’”

You choke on your laugh. Next clause: Feeding Conditions. This one looks more serious—routines, limitations, recovery protocols. But under “mutual comfort rituals,” there’s a handwritten addition: “Options include: warm compress, post-feeding tea, soft hand-holding, forehead kisses (pending approval), playlist exchange, and shared naps.”

You glance up slowly. “Hand-holding?”

“I was trying to make it less scary,” he mumbles.

“Forehead kisses?”

“That one was Felix’s idea.”

“…Shared naps?”

“I get cold.”

You hide a smile behind your hand.

Next clause: Emotional Compatibility. You read the first sentence and immediately choke. “Donor and Vampire acknowledge a pre-existing emotional connection, defined as one or more of the following: mutual attraction, obsession, unspoken yearning, awkward flirting, stolen glances, pining, lowkey soul-bonded tension, or vampire longing of the aesthetic variety.”

You nearly drop the folder. “Hyunjin.”

“I panicked!”

“This isn’t a contract, it’s a Wattpad fic!”

“I panicked with love.”

He reaches over, gently tugs the folder back, flipping a few pages ahead. Then, softly: “This is the real part.”

You glance down. It’s a smaller section. No frills. Just clean, tight script.

“The Vampire will never feed without consent. The Donor’s safety, agency, and peace of mind are paramount. If at any point trust is lost, the bond dissolves immediately. This is not ownership. It’s a promise.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. Hyunjin doesn’t move. Doesn’t push. You glance back at him, and something in his expression—hopeful and scared and bare—makes your throat tighten.

“Is this what you really want?” you ask quietly.

He holds your gaze. Nods. “I want to protect you. Nourish you. Be something soft where life has only been sharp.” A breath. “And, okay, maybe I want to taste your pulse with your name on my tongue. But only if you want me to.”

Your fingers linger on the edge of the folder.

It’s warm now—probably from Hyunjin’s hands, maybe from yours. Maybe from the strange heat that’s bloomed in the space between you since the moment he slid it across the table. A heartbeat stretched thin with nervous laughter, too-honest confessions, and something quiet you can’t name yet.

You flip back through the pages one more time.

There’s the clause about his feeding habits—clinical, respectful, careful. There’s the appendix with emotional safewords (you’ll never let him live down “moonbeam” as an emergency code). There’s even a ridiculous but kind of touching section about post-bond stress baking, apparently encouraged by Jeongin and reluctantly approved by Seungmin, written in blue glitter pen.

There are clauses about sleep cycles, magic regulation, scent imprinting.

But most of all—there’s him. Messy, obsessive, overthought him.

You look up again.

Hyunjin’s gaze is steady, but his fingers twitch slightly in his lap, betraying the nerves. He’s not hiding it—how much this means to him. How much you mean to him.

“I should be freaked out,” you say finally, voice quiet. “Like, terrified. Vampires? Blood contracts? Scent mapping? What even is my life.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. He just watches you—open, vulnerable, waiting. You close the folder gently. “But the truth is… I think I was more afraid before.”

That makes him blink.

You shrug, smiling a little, almost sheepish. “Rent was due. My body was aching from stress. No one looked at me like I mattered. Not really. Not like—like I was someone worth keeping warm. You did. You do.”

His lips part, a soft breath escaping.

“So yeah.” You reach for the pen clipped to the folder. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your donor. If you’ll still have me.”

Hyunjin just stares for a beat—like you’ve knocked the air out of his lungs.

Then: He exhales, almost shakily. And nods. “Yes. God—yes.”

You glance down, pen hovering. “Do I sign in blood? Or…?”

Hyunjin laughs—full and bright, the sound of something uncoiling in his chest. “No. Regular ink is fine. I mean, unless you want to be dramatic.”

You arch a brow. “Is this your way of asking to bite me already?”

“Absolutely not.” He coughs. “Not yet. Not until you’re ready. But… I might bring cookies next time. Or wine. Or that playlist you mentioned.”

You sign your name slowly at the bottom. Set the pen down. Look up. And smile. “Then I guess we’re official.”

Hyunjin’s expression softens—tension gone, replaced with something warm. Like you just gave him the stars.

Being a blood doll for Hwang Hyunjin doesn’t feel like what you expected. No dark castles. No red silk cloaks. No eerie glowing eyes or candlelit rituals with ominous Latin chants in the background. No—being his blood doll feels like…

A slow bloom. A brushstroke dragged gentle across canvas. Because he hasn’t touched you. Not like that. Not even close. He hasn’t bitten you. Hasn’t asked to. Hasn’t so much as brushed your pulse with his mouth.

And yet—your whole body knows he wants to. Knows when he wants to. How? It’s in the way he looks at you over the rim of his coffee cup during late night gallery closings. In the way his pupils dilate the moment you wear anything with an open neckline. In the way his voice dips lower—just a notch—every time you say his name.

Sometimes, when he’s standing too close while reviewing a piece of your work, you can feel the heat of it—his restraint. Razor-edged, aching.

It’s intoxicating. And a little terrifying. And you’re not entirely sure which part of that you like more.

You learn fast.

Vampires are real, yes. But they’re not monsters. Not the way you thought. Some are ancient and still follow strict caste hierarchies. Some are chaotic as hell (see: Jeongin and his constant snack hoarding). Some are gentle. Others are feral.

But all of them? Hungry.

You read the manuals. Talk to Felix, who is sunshine wrapped in fangs. You quiz Seungmin on post-bond regulations (he slides you a spreadsheet at one point, muttering something about “romantic illiterates” and “legal liability”). Jisung drops a bottle of scent stabilizer on your desk one morning and says “Just in case he gets too close and forgets you’re fragile.”

Hyunjin is not pleased about that.

He sends you a bouquet the next day, bigger than your torso. There’s a handwritten note that reads: “You are not fragile. You are divine. But yes, please wear the stabilizer. I might die otherwise.”

You choke. Text him something snarky.

He replies with a playlist titled: For Your Arteries Only.

Dates with Hyunjin are… ridiculous. One night it’s a museum after-hours. He charmed the curator. You wandered between sculptures with his hand on your waist. Another night he brings you to the roof of La Venera where he’s strung up fairy lights, laid out a whole picnic, and painted your name in gold onto a new canvas titled Linger.

He gifts you a bracelet infused with his scent. Not enough to trigger anything—but enough to soothe, to remind. He says it’s so “you don’t forget he’s thinking about you.” You wear it every day.

There’s longing in every glance. Every near-touch. Every pause.

But still—no bite. Not yet. It’s a dance. A dangerous one. And you’re starting to ache for it.

Late nights at La Venera are dangerous things.

Especially when it's just the two of you. Especially when the lights are low, the windows fogged, and there’s red wine breathing open on a side table.

It’s not a date, not officially. You’ve stopped calling them that.

You just show up after hours now, keying in the back entrance like you belong. Sometimes with paints. Sometimes with pastries. Sometimes in your softest clothes, because you know he'll look.

Tonight it’s all three, especially in that baby pink short dress.

Hyunjin's already there when you arrive, barefoot, sleeves rolled, brush between his fingers. There's music playing—something old and low and smoky—and he doesn’t turn around when the door clicks shut behind you.

He just says, without looking, “You’re late.”

You smile. “I brought cake.”

That earns a glance.

His mouth twitches. “You’re forgiven.”

You set the cake down. Pour the wine. Tug on one of the smocks he keeps just for you and take your place beside him, canvas already waiting.

For a while, it’s quiet.

Just brushstrokes and breathing. Paint splattered fingers. The occasional soft hum as he dips into the music.

But tension has a shape.

It slinks into the room sometime around the second glass of wine—wraps itself around your spine, curls beneath your skin. You catch it in the way his eyes keep drifting. The way your knees bump under the table and neither of you pull away.

He’s painting something crimson and abstract. You’re painting with more control, lines deliberate, precise. But your hand slips once—maybe on purpose—and leaves a streak down your arm.

You groan. “Ugh. This is the third shirt I’ve ruined this week.”

Hyunjin glances over. Sees the streak of red.

Still wet. Still gleaming.

His breath catches.

You raise a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.” He looks away too fast. “Just… the color suits you.”

You smirk. “You mean the paint?”

He doesn’t answer. You step closer. There’s wine on your tongue and something slow curling in your gut. “Hyunjin,” you say softly. “You’re staring.”

He turns his head. And fuck. The look he gives you is hungry. Not starved. Not lost. Hungry. Focused. Intent. Like he knows exactly what he wants and exactly where it’s sitting—in a paint-smudged smock, holding a half-empty glass, five inches from his mouth.

You set your brush down. “Say it.”

His voice is rough. “Say what?”

“What you’re thinking.”

There’s a beat. Then: “I want to touch you.”

Your pulse skips.

“I want,” he continues, stepping forward, so close you can feel his breath, “to paint every inch of your skin. Slowly. With my mouth.”

Your hand tightens around your glass.

“I want,” he murmurs, reaching out to gently wipe the paint from your arm with his thumb, “to ruin you the way I ruin canvases. Obsessed. Careful. Covered in color you’ll never quite wash out.”

You swallow. Hard. “…And then?” you whisper.

He smiles. Feral. Tender. Godlike. “Then I’ll ask if I can taste you.”

Your breath catches, tight in your throat, sharp in your chest. There’s a kind of stillness in the air now. The kind that comes just before the thunder hits. It stretches between you like a wire strung too tight, humming with something electric and inevitable.

You whisper, “Then ask.”

Hyunjin doesn’t move right away. Just watches you. Studies you. Like you’re the painting now. The masterpiece. And he’s trying to memorize every brushstroke before he dares touch the canvas. His hand comes up slowly, fingertips ghosting over the curve of your jaw, then settling at your throat—not pressing, just resting. Just feeling. His thumb brushes the column of your neck, slow and reverent, right over the pulse.

You feel the moment he hears it. Feels it. Counts it. His eyes flutter shut, a breath hitching in his throat. Then: “May I taste you?”

You don’t speak. You just set the glass down and tilt your head. Bare your throat like a prayer.

That’s all the answer he needs.

Hyunjin leans in, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

You nod. “I won’t.”

His lips trail down your neck, slow and featherlight, like he’s tracing each vertebrae with intention. You’re trembling—god, you’re trembling—and you don’t even realize your fingers have curled into the front of his shirt until he groans, low and broken, against your skin.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You smell like—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Maybe he can’t. Then, finally, he opens his mouth. You expect fangs. Expect pain. But all you get is heat. His lips press to your neck—not biting, not yet. Just a kiss. A kiss, like he’s falling in love with the shape of you. Then another, just below. Then a third, just where your pulse is fluttering like mad.

Your knees go weak. “Hyunjin—”

“I won’t rush it,” he murmurs. “I want you to want it.”

“I do.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His pupils are blown wide, lips red and parted, chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to hold himself still. You feel the tension in him—every thread of restraint knotted tight in his shoulders, his hands, the set of his jaw.

You nod again, voice barely above a whisper. “Then do it.”

Hyunjin stills before he finally slips a hand behind your neck, the other splayed warm against your lower back, drawing you into him like he’s already halfway drunk on your scent. His breath stirs against your throat, warm and trembling.

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “But it won’t be clean. I’ve wanted this for too long.”

You shiver. “Then make it messy.”

He groans low and ruined at those words leaving your pretty lips. And then you feel it. The change in the air. The shift in him. Not dangerous. Just real. The veneer of restraint slipping. Vampire. Lover. Yours. His mouth finds the spot just below your jaw, where your pulse jumps frantic beneath the skin. You feel his tongue first—hot, wet, a slow swipe—and then the sharp drag of fangs.

Not pain. Pressure. And finally, sink.

Your gasp is swallowed by his moan. It’s everything at once: the pierce, the heat, the sudden rush of pleasure that rolls through you like molten silk. You clutch at his shirt, grounding yourself, but you’re already floating—your head tilting back, mouth falling open, a soft whimper escaping without your permission.

Hyunjin groans into your skin, feeding in slow, aching pulls. His grip tightens, but he doesn’t hurt you—just holds you, like you’re something fragile and vital and his.

He’s panting now, breath ragged between each mouthful. “So sweet,” he gasps, pulling back just enough to look at you, mouth stained red. “Fuck, baby. You taste like yes.”

You reach up, touch his face. “You okay?”

He laughs—wrecked, breathless, delirious. “I just tasted you for the first time and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

You smile. “You look high.”

“I am.”

He kisses you then. Hard. Desperate. Deep. And that’s what does it. Your hands fumble at his shirt. His tongue licks into your mouth like he’s trying to memorize you. His hips slot between your legs. He lifts you onto the nearest table—canvas and paint pushed aside—and his hands slide under your thighs, your shirt, your skin.

Everywhere. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t fumble. But god, he’s hungry. “Tell me,” he pants against your lips. “Tell me you want more.”

You grab his belt. “I want everything.”

His mouth crashes into yours again and groans deep, broken, like your voice just punched the air from his lungs.

And then his belt hits the floor.

Hyunjin kisses like he paints—messy, obsessive, sacred. His hands drag up your thighs, slow and reverent, thumbs brushing the crease where your legs meet your hips like he’s praying to the altar of your body. You gasp into his mouth, arching when he presses forward, the hard line of his arousal grinding against your clothed core.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re already shaking.”

You are. You don’t care. You tug his shirt over his head, toss it blindly behind you. He’s all lean muscle and inked skin, his body as beautiful and deliberate as one of his gallery pieces—except this one’s pressed against you, flushed and trembling, pupils blown wide with need.

He leans in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, trailing over the fresh bite like he’s blessing it. “Still good?”

You nod, breath hitching. “More than good.”

He smirks against your skin. “Perfect.”

Then his hand slips between your legs.

You gasp, hips bucking into his palm as he strokes you over your underwear—slow at first, teasing, just enough to make you need. He watches your face the whole time, lips parted, lashes low, expression wrecked with restraint.

“You’re wet through,” he murmurs. “Is this all for me?”

You manage a nod.

Hyunjin presses a kiss to your jaw. “Then let me have you.”

He drops to his knees like it’s instinct. Worship. Pulls your panties aside and buries his face in your cunt like he’s been starving. You moan—loud, unfiltered—as his tongue licks a hot stripe through you, slow and greedy, followed by a groan that vibrates against your clit.

He doesn’t let up. One arm wraps around your thigh, holding you open. The other hand grips your hip like he’s afraid you’ll float away. His mouth is relentless—sucking, licking, tasting every inch of you with single-minded devotion.

Your head falls back with a cry. You barely register the sound of your wine glass tipping, paintbrushes clattering to the floor. None of it matters—not when he’s devouring you like this.

Hyunjin groans again, low and obscene, the sound vibrating straight into your core. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, dragging over your clit with maddening precision. Then he flattens it, sucks gently—then harder—and your entire body jolts.

“Fuck—Hyunjin—” you gasp, fists tangled in his hair, back arching off the table.

He moans into you like your pleasure is his oxygen. His grip tightens on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin as he licks deeper, deeper, like he’s trying to reach the parts of you untouched by anyone else. His nose brushes your mound, his lips slick and flushed, his tongue fucking into you like he’s trying to memorize the taste.

Every time you gasp, every whimper, every broken moan—he reacts. Groaning. Growling. Thrusting his hips against nothing. He’s needy for it, like he’s drunk on you, like the taste of you is something holy and forbidden and addictive all at once.

“Shit—” you choke, thighs trembling, nails dragging down his back. “I’m—I’m gonna—”

Hyunjin doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets hungrier. His arm hooks under your leg, anchoring you in place as he doubles down—his mouth messy, insistent, wet and hot and perfect as he drags another moan from your throat.

Your orgasm hits like a punch. Sharp. Shattering. You cry out, legs clamping around his head, hips grinding into his mouth—and he just takes it, groaning low, tongue still working you through it, slow and reverent, like he lives here now.

You collapse back onto the table, panting, muscles twitching.

Hyunjin finally pulls back, face soaked, lips swollen, eyes feral. He licks his mouth, slow and shameless, and smirks.

“You taste like I imagined,” he says, voice hoarse. “Better, even.”

You stare at him, dazed. “You imagined?”

“All the time,” he confesses. “You think I came to that coffee shop for the espresso?”

You huff a laugh—then gasp when he stands and leans over you again, cock pressing hot and hard against your soaked core. “Hyunjin—”

“I’m not done,” he whispers. “That was just the appetizer.”

Your reply is a whimper. You barely get a breath before he’s kissing you again—deep, wet, slow, like he wants to taste himself on your tongue. It’s messy and needy and addictive, and you moan into his mouth as he grinds down just enough for you to feel the thick press of his cock against your core.

You shiver. “You’re still dressed.”

His lips brush your cheek, your jaw, down your throat. “So are you,” he murmurs. “But not for long.”

You feel his hands on your hips, gentle but certain, sliding under the hem of your baby pink dress. His fingers drag the fabric up, inch by inch—slow, reverent, like he’s unwrapping a gift he’s been dreaming about for centuries.

“You wore this on purpose,” he says against your collarbone. “Didn’t you?”

You hum, teasing. “What if I did?”

He groans, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not likely,” you smirk. “Vampire, remember?”

“Then you better haunt me if you stop.”

You laugh—but it turns into a gasp when his fingers reach your straps. One slips down your shoulder. Then the other. You’re left breathless, chest rising and falling as he slowly peels the dress down your body—exposing soft skin, curve by curve. He pulls back just enough to look at you. And fuck. The way he looks at you. Like you’re made of starlight and honey and sin. Like he’s never seen anything so utterly divine.

“You’re perfect,” he says, more reverent than cocky now. His voice drops, all velvet and hunger. “So fucking perfect.”

Your dress pools around your waist. Your panties are still ruined, damp and sheer and clinging to your thighs. His hands are warm on your ribs, his mouth back on yours, kissing you slow, deep, possessive.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tug lightly.

Hyunjin groans, rolling his hips against you. “Don’t tempt me.”

“You’re the one stripping me on a paint-stained table, Hyunjin.”

He laughs into your mouth. “Yeah, well. You started it.”

Then he kisses his way down your body again. Over the tops of your breasts, between them, pausing to look up at you as he presses a kiss to your sternum.

His hands ghost over your waist, your thighs. He kisses your stomach like it’s holy. Then he rests his cheek just above your hipbone. Closes his eyes. And whispers, “Can I have you?” Not hungry. Not demanding. Just honest.

Your voice is soft. “Yes.”

He lifts his head. Smiles. Wrecked. Beautiful. “Good,” he breathes, brushing his lips over your thigh. “Because I want to ruin you slowly.”

You don’t even realize he’s dipped his fingers into the paint until they’re streaking color across your thigh.

A lazy, sensual drag of crimson. Then gold. Then a shade that might’ve been violet once but is now smudged into something deeper—bluer, like bruises left by desire.

You stare down at the mess he’s making of you.

“Hyunjin—” you start, breath hitching.

But he’s already pressing his thumb in, right where the pulse beats strongest in your hip. Smearing paint there too, like a signature.

“I said I’d paint every inch of your skin,” he murmurs, voice gone thick with arousal. “Didn’t say I’d use a brush.”

You whimper as his hands move up, warm and stained, tracing your waist with gentle reverence. Every stroke leaves another streak—colors mixing with heat, desire, devotion. He’s marking you. Not with fangs. Not yet. But with art. With intention.

“You’re my favorite canvas,” he breathes, pressing a soft kiss to the spot where pink meets your ribcage. “And I’ve waited so long to paint you right.”

You’re trembling again, legs spread open over the table, your dress bunched at your hips, panties still pushed aside. And then—

smear.

His paint-slick fingers slide between your thighs.

You moan, body arching at the sensation—cool paint, warm touch. He groans in return, low and ruined, watching the way your body reacts.

“You like that?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Fuck—yes.”

His other hand slides down, the one not covered in paint and his fingers spread you open. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing before sliding two fingers inside without warning. You cry out, back arching, and he curses under his breath.

“So fucking tight,” he pants. “So wet for me already.”

You clench around him at the praise. He’s relentless now—thrusting his fingers deep, curling them just right, hitting that spot again and again until your thighs are shaking. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight, messy circles that make your head fall back, breath caught between sobs and gasps.

“Hyunjin—fuck—please—”

He leans in, paint and sweat smearing across your body, kissing your mouth hard—tongue sliding over yours, desperate and consuming. He’s grinding against you now, cock thick and hard through his pants, and you can feel him—every twitch, every pulse. He’s shaking.

When he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, he licks them clean. Slowly. Watching you the whole time.

Then he stands, yanks open his belt, shoves his pants and boxers down just enough. His cock springs free—thick, flushed, leaking and so so so fucking pretty.

“Turn around,” he rasps. “Now.”

You scramble to obey, breathless, heart pounding. He bends you over the table, knocking brushes and palettes aside. The edge digs into your hips. He drags your panties all the way down this time, discards them like nothing.

A pause.

Then the blunt head of his cock presses to your entrance, slick with your arousal.

You brace yourself and then he slams in with a growl. You scream. There’s no other word for it. He’s huge, filling you all at once, stretching you wide until you’re trembling, dripping, wrecked from the very first thrust.

“Fuck, fuck—you feel like heaven,” he groans, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “You were made for this.”

He sets a brutal rhythm, hips slamming into yours with relentless force, the sound obscene—wet, loud, raw. You’re gasping, moaning, sobbing his name. Your nails dig into the paint-slick table, searching for purchase as he drives into you over and over and over.

But then there's a shift.

The change in air pressure. The low, guttural noise from his throat. The way his fangs press gently against the back of your neck when he leans down.

“Can I?” he whispers, voice shaking. “Please.”

You nod, eyes wide. “Yes. Please.”

He moves with sudden precision—pulls you up, flush against his chest, one arm wrapped tight across your stomach to hold you still. You feel the tip of his cock grinding deeper, right into that devastating spot and sinks his fangs into the side of your neck.

He feeds like he fucks—deep, desperate, consuming. You feel his tongue lapping against your skin, the pull of your blood as his cock pounds into you, merciless and raw. Hyunjin groans against your skin, breath ragged, blood-slick lips brushing the curve of your neck as he thrusts into you.

“God, you taste like I dreamed,” he pants, voice thick with devotion. “Like every fevered thought I tried to paint away.”

You whimper, head falling back against his shoulder. His arms are locked around you—one firm across your stomach, the other rising to cup your breast. His thumb drags over your nipple, slick from paint and sweat, and you cry out at the sensation. Every inch of you feels claimed.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So beautiful. Letting me have this. Letting me have you.”

Your hips jerk as he finds that devastating angle again, cock hitting deep, grinding into your softest spot. His rhythm stutters, overwhelmed, and he bites down gently—not piercing again, just mouthing over the mark he’s already made like he can’t bear to let it go. His hands are everywhere. Mapping you. Cradling you. Worshiping every curve and tremble.

You turn your head just enough to meet his mouth, and he kisses you like a prayer—open, slow, full of everything he can’t say out loud. His fingers find yours, lacing them together against your belly, holding you there while he fucks you through every wave of pleasure.

“I’ll give you everything,” he whispers, voice cracking, almost reverent. “Every color. Every breath. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep you mine.”

You’re shaking, unraveling, heart slamming against your ribs as pleasure coils hot and heavy in your core. His mouth is still on your neck, licking at the blood he’s already taken, and it’s obscene—how sacred it feels.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice cracked open. “I can feel you—so tight, so close.”

You whimper his name, breathless. “Hyunjin, I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“I know.” His hand leaves your breast just long enough to slip between your thighs, fingers finding your clit with devastating precision. “Let go for me. Come on, baby. Let me feel you.”

The wave hits you hard. You break with a cry, clenching around him, trembling so violently you would’ve collapsed if he wasn’t holding you so close. His name tears from your throat as your orgasm rips through you—blinding, wet, all-consuming.

And that’s all it takes.

Hyunjin moans—shattered, holy—and slams into you one last time, cock twitching as he spills inside you, deep and hot, his cum triggered by your body milking him for everything. He clutches you tighter, hips jerking with each pulse as he rides it out, breath ragged in your ear.

The room stills.

Your bodies tremble together, covered in sweat, paint, blood, and each other. He doesn’t pull away. Just holds you, his face buried in your shoulder.

“You okay?” he whispers, voice hoarse.

You nod, barely able to speak. “Yeah. You?”

A pause.

Then he exhales a shaky laugh. “I’ve never felt more alive.”

You lean back enough to look at him, and he kisses you slow, reverent, ruined. A painter still in love with his masterpiece. A vampire utterly undone by your name.

You groan as he gently pulls out, both of you wincing from overstimulation and the messy, perfect aftermath. His hands are still on your hips, like he doesn’t trust the world not to snatch you away if he lets go.

“Don’t move,” he says, voice wrecked but soft.

You blink up at him, flushed and dazed. “Wasn’t planning to. I think my soul just left my body.”

Hyunjin snorts, then immediately leans down to kiss your cheek, your jaw, your temple. “Come back. I’ll bribe you with chocolate strawberries.”

You hum. “Tempting. But I might be a ghost now. Floating forever in post-orgasmic bliss.”

He laughs, full-bodied and beautiful. Then—with ridiculous gentleness—he slips your underwear back into place, finds a paint-smudged blanket from the supply room, and drapes it around your shoulders before lifting you bridal-style off the table.

You yelp. “Hyunjin—!”

“Shhh,” he says dramatically, “you’ve been through a lot. You were viciously attacked by an art-horny vampire.”

You burst into laughter. “Art-horny?!”

He grins as he settles onto the floor with you in his lap, wrapping you both in the blanket. “What would you call it?”

You pretend to think. “Mmm… a tragic case of palette-induced pussy worship?”

He absolutely loses it. His head drops to your shoulder, shaking with laughter. “I hate you. I love you. I hate that I love you. What the fuck.”

You grin, nuzzling his hair. “You’re welcome.”

There’s a beat of comfortable silence—your breathing syncing, his arms warm around you, the room still smelling of paint and sex and something sweeter. He lifts his head, just enough to meet your eyes.

“Was it too much?” he asks, quieter now. “The bite. The… everything.”

You shake your head. “It was perfect. It was you.”

His whole face softens, pupils still wide from feeding but laced now with something gentler. “I didn’t know I could feel this full without dying.”

You press your forehead to his. “You didn’t. You lived.”

He exhales a shaky laugh, nuzzles your nose. “You’re so soft right now. It’s killing me.”

“You literally already bit me.”

“Yeah, but that was sexy soft. This is like... soul-level softness.” He pauses. “Do you want a warm cloth? Tea? A seven-course meal? A small kingdom?”

You giggle, snuggling in. “I want to stay right here for a bit. Maybe cuddle. Maybe nap. Maybe kiss until we’re bored of each other.”

Hyunjin smiles like he’ll never be bored of you. “Cuddle I can do.”

And he fucking does and later? he tries to feed you grapes and accidentally drops them down your shirt.

You smack him with a paintbrush.

He swears it’s part of the aftercare.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco , @emilyywhyy , @rainyjeno , @fawnoverdawn , @pixie-felix , @anniestay , @notmeneo , @lovslixx , @themoonlightfae , @heartwithoutaname , @yourghostneighbor , @princesskrystix , @drilles , @y2kur0mi , @mochi-space , @ivaviavi , @phelans-thoughts , @the-anon-reader , @beans4beans56 , @joyfulchaoslover , @channieismylove , @cherryoatchai , @unimportantweirdo , @seagulljk , @freckles-and-rage , @lonelydarknessblog , @girlsymptoms , @bookswillfindyouaway

[hwangjoanna]

Welcome to my Masterlist! 🩷 Feel free to send any fic requests via my ask box! I mainly write horror, thriller and dark romance themes, but happy to hear your ideas!

‘Red light, Green light.’ - Dom/Hyunjin X Sub/Reader | Squid Game AU | 18+ MDNI | Enemies to Lovers | Thriller | Gore | Slow Burn | Angst | Fluff | Smut | Hyunjin, Minho & Seungmin are mean | Felix & Han are soft boys - STATUS: ONGOING

‘Stray Things’ - Dom/Hyunjin X Sub/Reader | Demon/Devil AU | 18+ MDNI | Strangers to Lovers? | Dark Romance | Angst | Love | Possessive Behaviour | Smut | Thriller | Horror | Gore | Supernatural | loosely based on Stephen King's Novel 'Needful Things.' - STATUS: ON GOING

‘Only Lovers Left Alive’ - Hyunlix | HardDom/Hyunjin X Sub/Reader X SoftDom/Felix | Vampire AU | 18+ MDNI | Dark Romance | Slow Burn | Obsession | Possession | Mutual Pining | Love | Smut | Horror | Violence | Gore | Dark Themes | Loosely based on the film 'Only lovers left alive' - STATUS: COMING SOON

‘Let The Devil In’ - Church School AU | 18+ mdni | Priest's Son/Hyunjin X Nun in Training/Reader | Enemies to Lovers | Slow Burn | Angst | Devotion | Sacrilege | Smut | Religious Themes | Religious Horror | Gore | Dark Romance | Obsession. STATUS: COMING SOON

‘H-9JIN’ - Cyberpunk Dystopian AU | 18+ mdni | Pleasure Android/Hyunjin X Hacker/Reader | Dom/Sub Dynamics | Enemies to Lovers | Reader is a brat I Slow Burn | Smut | Love | Angst | Forbidden Desire STATUS: COMING SOON

‘The Collector’ - Dom Immortal/Hyunjin X Willing Human/Reader | Haunted House AU I MDNI 18+ | Dark Romance | Gothic Horror | Slow-burn Possession | Cursed Immortality I Soft Obsession | Erotic Ruin | Smut - STATUS: COMPLETE

‘Hack Into My Heart’ - Nerdy I.T Guy/Hyunjin X CEO Boss/Reader | Office Romance AU I MDNI 18+ | Colleagues to Lovers I Slow Burn | Power Dynamics |Awkward | Angst | Love | Smut - STATUS: COMPLETE

‘Dial Me, Write me’ - Phone Sex Operator AU | Modern AU | 18+ mdni | Phone Sex Operator/Hyunjin X Writer/Reader I Anonymity | Voice Kink | Soft Angst | Romantic I Filthy | Smut | Slow-Burnish | Dom/Sub Dynamics. STATUS: COMING SOON

COMING SOON…

▓▒░☰☰▒▓▒░☰▓▒░☰▒▓▒░☰☰▒▓▒░☰▓▒░☰▒▓▒░☰☰▒

Loads more fics in preplanning stage as well as some tasty collabs I have coming so keep your eyes pealed 🫶🏻

PERMANENT TAGLIST - @fairylix @hoes4minho @lilileen25 @akindaflora @tirena1 @stayjinnie @jehhskz @alittlebitofeverything04 @chloe-elise-2000 @estellan0vella @yaorzu-blog @purplepursepaint @bluewildflowersakura @miyeonna @skzfelixlove

TAGLIST OPEN!

[hwangjoanna]

HAPPY SQUID GAME RELEASE DAY!

I can’t wait to watch this tonight!

ㅣMy Squid Game AU Masterlist ㅣ

TAGLIST - @eridanuswave @astro-des @ot8girlfie

@fairylix @estellan0vella @nightmarenyxx

@missygore @mysterysold @chloe-elise-2000

@minhosglasses @akindaflora @minniesverse

@hoes4minho @hhwangsmoon @riri53

@redlightshyunjinnie

OPEN

[hwangjoanna]

'Red Light, Green Light.'

SKZ Squid Game AU

Hyunjin X Reader

Enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers

Dom/Hyunjin, Sub/Reader

Possessive & jealous Hyunjin

Hyunjin, Seungmin & Minho are all mean (sorry)

Felix and Jisung Besties (Soft boys)

Warnings - MDNI 18+, Physical & emotional abuse, Sappy Hyunjin, Degradation, Use of the terms Slut & Whore, Violence, Gore, Use of guns, Main character death (I’m sorry), Non-consensual touching, Angst, Anxiety Attack, Nightmares, Smut, Mentions of unprotected sex, Non-consensual Sex.

A/N - In honour of this being chapter 13 I thought I would write a chapter from only Y/n’s perspective. As she’s player 013, I thought it would be the perfect chapter to focus on our girl. However, it’s not an easy read by any means! I appreciate how many of you got involved in the latest poll, it was very interesting to see your thoughts.

Word Count - 5,608

Part 12

[Series Masterlist]

Chapter 013

PLAYER 013 POV

The main room feels quieter now, almost eerily so. There are fewer beds and more money in the piggy bank, which swings and catches the artificial overhead lights occasionally. It’s a constant reminder of the loss you feel. You look up at the blood money, and you remember that one of the stacks in there is Jisung’s share.

You twitch slightly, the uneasy feeling growing in your chest again. Grief, sorrow and the overwhelming fear that this could be your fate at any given moment. Not only yours but theirs.

Your boys, the men you’ve grown to care for in the weirdest of ways. In the outside world you probably never crossed their paths, you’d probably have never opened yourself up to the relationships you have with them now.

For one, Wooyoung would have never allowed it, he’d become very controlling in your final year together. Commenting on what you’d wear, and giving you a time frame if you went out with friends.

However, as time went on he’d never be around. So what would you have done if you met Hyunjin in the outside world?

You honestly didn’t know, when you met him you thought he was an absolute asshole. Which, granted he still was but as you came to get to know him you found he had a gentle and caring side.

Once he’d mentioned his lack of love as a child it almost made sense to you why you’d been so drawn to him. Yes, your parents never abused you but they also had no relationship with you. Just constantly threw money at you as a way of buying your love. You never really thought about it until you were here, in the game. Trapped in four walls where time didn’t feel real, although in here you had so much time to think. It was almost torturous how much.

Left with the hollow memories of childhood, where all your ‘friends’ were rich and shallow. Your parents were constantly away on business trips, leaving you with some ‘aunts’ or ‘uncles’ that you figured weren’t actually related to you. You did have an uncle, that you were sure of. He visited a lot when you were young but after around ten years old you don’t remember seeing him again.

This continued into your teenage years, snobby ‘friends’, sleepovers at strangers' houses. Then came graduation, your parents of course didn’t attend. They said they’d try to make it but ultimately you didn’t even feel disappointed when you stepped on stage, and glanced at the crowd and you didn’t see them.

You were grateful, you weren’t stupid. You had been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you never wanted for anything and you had been provided the best education, but you fought off the ‘dumb rich girl’ stereotype as best you could. You wondered to yourself whether you came across that way to the boys.

You hoped not.

You wondered in that moment what they thought of you. It was clear that most of them were attracted to you, if you were honest with yourself, a lot of boys were when you were growing up. When you were twelve years old there were two boys at school fighting over you. The thought now amused you, one of them was called Changbin you remember. He was loud, energetic and boisterous. However, he was known as the school’s ‘bad boy’. The other was Jeongin, the boy you ended up with for two years. He was sweet, and he had a playful but gentle energy about him. A cute fox-like face, all the girls at school fancied him, but he was yours, and your best friend too.

That was until he told you a few weeks after your fourteenth birthday that he was moving to Busan. He said he’d try to keep in contact with you but once he’d gone you heard nothing.

Another person who abandoned you. You thought to yourself.

You brought it up to your mother one evening, her response cold as always ‘Well he wasn’t good for you anyway. My daughter should be dating a strong man, with the promise of a large inheritance. I much preferred Changbin, his father is very powerful.’ You roll your eyes at the memory of her words, then you chuckle slightly. She’s probably turning in her grave at who you’ve dated since her death, she would have hated Wooyoung. Granted, she would have been right about him. She probably wouldn’t be a fan of Hyunjin or Felix either. Not that you were dating them but the thought came regardless.

Suddenly, Hyunjin brings you back to reality. “Hey, you okay Thirteen?” He whispers against your hair. You’re lying between his legs on your bottom bunk, his back resting against the bed frame. Your back to his chest, one of his arms is wrapped around you, his other hand is stroking your skin lightly on your hip, underneath your numbered t-shirt.

You’d been so distracted with your thoughts you hadn’t realised till that moment how intimately he was holding you.

You hum in response, but he’s not happy with just that.

“What you been daydreaming about hmm?” His lips now ghost the side of your neck as he speaks, his breath sending shivers up your spine. “Still thinking about me?” He chuckles.

You laugh out loud, “You wish, lover boy.”

“No? Because I’ve been thinking about you.” His lips are now grazing your ear, and you can feel your panties getting wet. This guy.

You smirk to yourself wanting to egg him on. “Oh yeah? What about me?” You murmur, trying to control your breathing so as not to give yourself away.

“Hmm, let’s see. Mainly your smile, but also…” he pauses and lowers his voice to whisper that runs through you. “How wet you were earlier, how hot you look when you come, how beautifully you moan my name.”

Your breath hitches and he chuckles to himself at your reaction. You compose yourself for a moment and then reply, “Careful Hyunjin, you sound like you’re a bit obsessed with me.” You laugh again, playing it off as a joke but his hand stills on your hip and he squeezes it possessively.

“So what if I am.” He says, bluntly.

That makes you turn to him, his face is unreadable but his eyes dance across your features and land on your mouth, he runs his fingers through his slightly grown-out buzz-cut.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re just bored.” You say, trying not to think about yours or his feelings. You can’t do it again, let another guy in. Sex is one thing but ultimately you’ll just get hurt. He’ll leave you, they always do. Everyone.

“You seriously think I’m bored in here, Thirteen? When everyday I have to fight to keep myself alive. Where I have to see you get hurt? Where I have to deal with that fucking guard always putting his hands on you.” His voice grows as he speaks.

You glance at the others, Felix looks at you for a second but then continues his conversation with Minho and Seungmin where they sit on the steps.

“Why can’t I be? Hmm? Why can’t you accept that I might enjoy being around you?” Once the words come out of his mouth he pulls you on top of him, his lips crash against yours and he starts kissing you like no one else is in the room.

God, his kisses are like pure fire. Hot, wet and so passionate. His pillowy lips glide across yours with intent, and he starts to press his tongue into your mouth but you pull away. He’s never fully made out with you in public, at least not in front of the others.

His eyes are wide open, his grip on you loosens as he studies your reaction. “I think-“ he begins but you’re already getting up, interrupting him mid-thought. “I need a minute,” you say, as you scurry away to the bathroom, a corner of the room, somewhere but not here.

You don’t even want to think about what he was going to say. He doesn’t like you like that. He just likes fucking you.

As you round the corridor you smack into someone, and your body falls onto the floor with a thump. You hiss, as your ass cheeks throb from the landing. You look up and gasp, you can’t breathe, it’s him. The triangle masked man.

“Just the girl I was looking for,” he says, his voice echoing around you.

“I-“ you start to speak but then his hand is fisted into your hair as he drags you to your feet.

“You’re coming with me, Player 013.” He says, through gritted teeth.

You start to shake, the fear setting in. What’s he planning on doing?

You try to pull away, but your scalp burns from your efforts. His grip tightens in your hair, and his other hand grabs you by the arm. You scream, but no one hears, no one comes to your aid. Why did you have to run off? You start to sob, “No! Please! Please leave me alone!” Your shouting seems to anger him more and he moves his hand from your arm and presses it against your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch!” He spits. He drags you through a door that opens once his mask is scanned. Several guards walk by, none of them even turning their heads to you, a few glance your way but continue walking. You try to wriggle but he holds you firmly, he pulls you through another door and pushes you down to the ground, Your knees sting and you continue to cry. You try to move away from him, scooting back on your palms until you settle in a corner of the small room with nowhere else to go.

He locks the door behind him with a click and slowly stalks towards you, his body towering over your shaking form. You’re hunched over with your knees to your chest, weeping loudly.

The masked man squats down, he brings his finger to your chin to tilt it up at him and you wince at the contact.

“Look at me,” his ominous voice comes out gentler than before.

You close your eyes, your tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. Suddenly, he grabs your jaw in a bruising grip. “I said look at me!” He growls.

You snap your eyes open, you have no choice, he’s closer than before. Your vision slightly blurred from your crying. You can barely breathe, the air thick with antiseptic and malice. His gloved fingers dig into your jaw, forcing your face closer to his and for a second, the mask is all you can see. That cold, blank triangle. The subtle way he breathes you in makes your skin crawl.

“I’ve been watching you, player thirteen,” he says, calmly. Too calmly. “You’ve gotten very comfortable. Haven’t you? Smiling, laughing, lying in his lap like a whore.”

Your body jolts. You stare at him in confusion, terror mounting. He knows? He’s seen you with Hyunjin and that tone, why does it feel so personal? You try to speak, but your voice is trapped in your throat. His gloved hand brushes your cheek almost tenderly. The gesture makes your stomach turn.

“You think he cares about you?” His fingers trail down to your neck. “You think you’re special to him? That he won’t leave you when this is all over? Wake up.”

His words are like knives, they hit far too close to home. You want to scream, but you’re too afraid. Something about him, it’s not just the threat, it’s the intimacy of his hate. It clings to you like a memory you can’t quite place.

“Are you that desperate for attention?” He continues, his voice tight and dangerous.

You shake your head, attempting to back further away but there’s no space. He’s so close that you can hear his breathing under his mask, ragged, it feels like he’s holding back his anger. Your hands tremble where they clutch your knees.

“No? I see the way you look at him. I see the way he touches you.” He pauses, his head tilting. “I mean, they all want a piece don’t they?”

You think for a moment, surely he’s not allowed to speak to you this way. Then you remember you’re in a game where they kill people in cold blood and take their bodies away in boxes.

You continue to cry, “What did I ever do to you? Why are you doing this?”

“You know, I like how much you cry for me.” He laughs a low, joyless sound. “You cry harder than when he was between your legs.”

You freeze. Your heart threatens to tear itself apart inside your chest. How does he know that? How close was he? You turn your face, refusing to let him see the fresh wave of shame.

“That’s what I thought.” He says, He stands slowly, wiping his gloved hand on his pants like you’ve dirtied it. His shadow stretches across the room, swallowing you whole. You rub your sore knees, and his head follows the action. He notices the blood seeping through onto your teal track pants, staining the fabric.

He steps forward, “Let me see.” His voice, controlled.

You look up at him confused, “What?” You sniffle.

“Your knees, let me see.” He repeats.

You shake your head again, trembling under his gaze. “No, I’m-“ but then he interrupts you by grabbing your wrists and pulling you up, your flush against his chest for a moment before he lifts you onto a desk in the corner and pulls your track pants down to your ankles. You scream but his palm lands over your mouth again.

“Do as I fucking say and if you scream again, I’ll give you something worth screaming over!” He shouts through the mask, you continue weeping, pulling the hem of your numbered t-shirt down to cover yourself. He tears your hand away, gripping you violently.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” He comments and you feel sick knowing he saw you with Hyunjin buried inside you.

He turns and grabs a first aid kit from the cupboard, releasing your mouth. How many do they have here? It reminds you of how tenderly he put the burn gel on your palms, days ago.

He pulls out some sterile wipes and swipes them over your bloodied knees, you hiss at the contact and he just tuts under his breath. He sticks a plaster on each of them, gently. Suspiciously so. He lays his palm over it, his other hand holding down your thigh making you feel uncomfortable with how possessively he holds you.

Once he’s done he pulls up your track pants. “Good girl,” he whispers but you hear it and make an attempt to move.

He grabs you to stop you. “I’m in charge here.” He says and in that moment, your blood boils with rage. You don’t know how your fear turns to hate, but it does. You see red, your pulse deafening in your ears. Every cell in your body is screaming to stay small. To stay quiet but something inside you snaps. You stare up at him, eyes red, voice trembling but sharp.

“You’re not in charge though, are you?” you spit. “You’re just a number. Just another cog in the machine.”

He freezes.

“What did you just say?” His voice drops, dangerously low.

“You think that mask makes you powerful? That people obey you because they respect you?” you hiss. “They don’t. They’re afraid. Just like you are.”

He’s suddenly grabbing your shirt collar and yanking you to your feet. You gasp, toes barely brushing the ground.

“You want to test me, slut?” he snarls. “Keep talking.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” you lie.

You see it land, his breath stutters, just for a second. That mask is expressionless, but you see it in the way his grip tightens, how your words have gotten under his skin. You struck something.

“You think you matter in here?” you continue, emboldened by his flicker of hesitation. “You’re not a god. You’re not even a real man. You’re a number, just like the rest of us.”

He throws you hard against the wall.

The impact knocks the wind from your lungs, your vision sparking with white. His hand slams beside your head, and you barely manage to stay upright. “Say that again,” he growls, breath hot through his mask. “Say it again and see what happens.”

You don’t. You can’t but your eyes, even full of tears, even filled with fear, are still locked on his.

You don’t look away.

He breathes hard. His chest rises and falls like a storm barely held back. Then, without warning, he shoves you down again, not with force, but with disgust.

“Stay the fuck away from him, I don’t even want to see you even glance in his direction,” he mutters. “Or next time I won’t stop at threats. I’ll skin your pretty little boyfriend alive right in front of you.” He grabs you at the nape of your neck, pulling you out of the room, his gloved fingers dig bruises into your skin.

You hear the beeps of doors opening but you’re too busy scrambling to get your feet to carry you, your plimsolls scrap the floor. Then you’re back in the corridor again, by the bathrooms. He moves his hand to the front of your throat and shoves you against the cold hard wall. You cry out again as your head bangs on the concrete.

“If I hear you telling a single fucking soul about this conversation, I won’t stop at him.” You whimper at his words. “I’ll kill every. Single. One. Of. Them.” He sounds out every syllable with his threat.

He waits for you to answer but you just continue sobbing in his grasp, barely able to breathe. He loosens his grip enough for you to speak.

“Do you understand?” He screams in your face.

“Yes-yes-please. I won’t tell, you’re hurting me. Please-“ you stutter.

With that, he drops you again. Your palms hit the floor and you just let yourself lie there. Curled up in a fetal position, you’re shaking, your body on fire with the bruises left from his abuse.

He stands over you for a moment as if admiring his work. Then, without another word he walks through the door he came from.

You hear the door to the main room opening about five minutes later, but who really knows how long it was?

“Y/N?” A deep Australian accent breaks through but you don’t look up, continuing to cry. Your head is throbbing with a headache.

Felix reaches down to you but you flinch, “Hey, hey, hey, shh.” He strokes your back. “It’s just me, come here Angel.” He whispers soothingly.

That’s when he picks you up, like you weigh nothing and carries you bridal style back to the main room. As he walks with you in his arms, you hear rushed footsteps and voices asking what happened and if you’re okay. You can’t tell who’s speaking, your mind feels like mush, your ears ring and your body lies limply in his arms. Your face is pressed against Felix’s chest, and his smell comforts you.

He places you on what you assume is your bed but he stays and cradles you.

“Baby, what happened?” You hear Hyunjin’s voice but you don’t respond. Fear overcomes you, the guard could be watching you and you don’t want him to get hurt.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Felix spits.

You hear Hyunjin step back, “What are you talking about?” He responds.

“Well last person I saw her with was you, then I find her curled up in a ball. Crying her fucking eyes out. So I think it’s best you leave her alone.” Felix says, aggressively.

“If you’ve got a fucking problem with me, blondie. Then just fucking say it! Stop using her as an excuse.” Hyunjin says through gritted teeth.

You can tell they’re getting angry at each other now but you’re powerless to stop it. You feel paralysed in your own skin. If you tell them to stop, technically you’ll have to speak to Hyunjin.

“Oh I’ve got a fucking problem-“ Felix begins, his voice a deeper growl than you’ve ever heard before. But Seungmin steps between them, at least that’s what you assume because you hear his voice next. “Hey, let’s just cool off. Yeah?”

“Cool off! He’s gone right back to being her little guard dog again. Always playing the fucking hero!” Hyunjin shouts, and you can hear other players in the room pausing their conversations to listen in.

“YAH! SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!” Minho shouts, and all three men stop. “You’re embarrassing yourselves, and Y/N is upset, do you really think you’re helping?”

You hear them all take a breath, your exhaustion starts to take you, as you sniffle into the pillow. You can feel yourself drifting off as they continue to speak amongst each other. Their voices lull you to sleep.

You’re at home, lying in bed. Your eyes adjust. It’s like your bedroom but not really. The bed feels like the one you fell asleep on. The small bunk with a metal frame. You roll over to look around and there he is, Hyunjin. He’s stood at the foot of your bed, a smirk on his lips. His hair is long and dark, not like it is now. He looks familiar like this.

“Hey baby,” he says as he climbs on top of you and settles between your legs, You wrap them around his waist. He starts kissing your jaw, your throat.

Suddenly, you’re both naked and he’s fucking into you slowly. He groans, it’s not like he’s fucked you before, it’s like he’s making love to you. “I’m so obsessed with you, Thirteen.” He whispers. You moan in response. His palm that rests on your throat tightens. “You’re going to kill me.” He says.

You blink, it’s not him anymore. Wooyoung’s hand chokes you. His face is in a snarl, his whiskey breath fans over your cheeks. “Just take it.” He hisses.

You try to say no, but you can’t speak. He makes that face. That face he makes when he’s about to come. You turn away, your eyes closed, trying to will yourself to wake up, you know you’re dreaming.

Wake up y/n, wake up.

His hand reaches for your jaw but his voice changes to that ominous sound. “Look at me,” a gloved hand pulls your face to his. You open your eyes and that triangle mask is in front of you. You scream but in the dream it sounds like a distant echo, like it doesn’t come from your mouth at all. The masked guard is still in his magenta uniform, but it’s unzipped. His cock is out and thrusting into you with a rough rhythm. “You’re taking me so well, you little whore.”

You grip his wrist pulling his hand away, he lets go and goes to grab you again but you use all your efforts and push him off you. He falls onto the floor. You run to your bedroom door, still naked and swing it open.

When you run out, you’re not in your apartment. You’re in the corridor again. The one near the bathrooms. You’re back in the game. You look down and you’re in your teal tracksuit. The fabric feels heavy, blood stains all over it. You hear him coming to the door.

You run.

You open a random door that leads to the pastel coloured staircase. You climb them as quickly as possible.

“You can’t run from me, I’m everywhere!” He shouts behind you. You don’t turn back. You just continue until you find another door.

Wake up! Wake up!

It’s Felix’s deep voice filling your ears now but you can’t see him anywhere.

You open another door, the space is decorated in dark geometric wallpaper, and the furniture black leather chesterfield seats dotted around the room.

There’s a group of people there, and they all stop to look at you. They’re wearing damask robes. Each adorning a gold mask, in shapes of animals; a tiger, a bull, a stag.

“Join us, Y/N.” The tiger man says.

You back away slowly, shaking your head and run out the door. Your body meets the triangle guard and you fall onto your knees.

“Just the girl I was looking for” he says, in the exact tone as earlier in the day.

“You’re not real.” You say, “I’m just having a nightmare.” You think saying it out loud will help appease the fear, and help you to wake up but it doesn’t work. Your breath is staggered now your heart pumping under your numbered T-shirt.

“Oh I’m very real, you’re still here. Still in the game.” He tilts his head. “And all because of me, if I didn’t take you into that room. You would have been eliminated. You should be begging for me.”

“Fuck you!” You scream, he approaches you but you kick his shin. He bends over, the screech coming from under his mask pierces through your ears. You get to your feet somehow and continue to run, you open another door.

It’s the carousel, it’s rotating in the middle of the room.

You’re alone.

‘Doong-geul-gae doong-geul-gae, jjag bing-geul-bing-geul dor-a-ga-myeo chum-eul chub-si-da, son-ppyeo-geul chi-myeon-seo.’

Six.

Then you hear him, that voice.

“Jagiya?”

You turn and there’s Jisung. He looks exactly like he did when he was alive. His beautiful honeyed skin glows, and his eyes sparkle when he sees you.

“Sorry I thought you were-“ he begins but then he smiles.

He runs towards you, and you jump into each other’s arms. You start to sob.

“I miss you so much, Ji.” You cry.

“I know.” He strokes your hair.

The timer on the wall is counting down, 20 seconds left.

“Where’s Jagi, where’s Minho?” He asks.

You look at him, his expression mirrors yours, and his tears run down his beautiful puffy cheeks. You shake your head. “He’s not here.” You whisper.

5 seconds…

“Don’t worry, I’ll see him soon.” He says. But it echoes in the room, and the sound is deafening.

1 second…

You hear a gunshot…

Then you wake, gasping. Your heart has never beaten so fast. You can’t breathe.

You’re panting, sweating. Minho runs over to you. “Y/N,” he says firmly. “You’re having a panic attack, Kitten. Come on breathe with me.” You can hear him but the sound is muffled, like you’re underwater.

You look at him, his eyes are full of concern, his brows are furrowed. He takes in a deep breath and you try to do it too but it’s stuck in your throat. You shake your head at him, your tears drip down to your chin.

Minho looks scared but you know he’s trying to hide it.

He brings his hands to your face and holds you in his palms in an attempt to ground you, “keep your eyes on me, Y/n. I’ve got you okay?” You nod then, he smiles slightly.

“Follow my breathing.” He commands.

Your throat opens and oxygen floods your lungs, it was like you were drowning before and now you’ve reached the surface.

“Good girl,” he says. “Can you do that again for me?” You oblige. Another gasp in, you hold it while he counts out loud to you and you blow out the air. You continue to breathe with him and your heart starts to slow down. You’re still aware of it in your chest but you can think now, you don’t feel overwhelmed.

“Jisung.” You whisper.

Minho visibly flinches at the name. He blinks a few times. “What?” He says, confused.

“He was in my dream, in my nightmare.” You pause catching another breath. “He asked for you.”

He chuckles but you can see the sadness in his eyes. He takes his hands from your face and settles them in his lap.

That’s when you look around the room and about five guards are circling other players, two triangles and three squares.

“What's going on?” You ask Minho, and he glances at them over his shoulder then looks at you.

“I’m not sure, something about a contraband item. They are searching beds and uniforms.” You nod, a little concerned but you don’t have any belongings on you so you try not to think about it.

“So what else happened? In your dream?” He says. “Did Jisung say anything else?” His eyes are hopeful but then you both hear two guards laughing behind him.

The two of you turn to them, “Still talking about your little boyfriend?” The one with the square mask says.

Minho stiffens. His body tenses like a coil ready to snap, and you feel the atmosphere shift around him.

The square-masked guard continues with a laugh that makes your skin crawl. “What did he say again? ‘I’m sorry, Jagiya’? Or was it, ‘I’m scared’? Little coward couldn’t even hold in his tears.”

The other guard snorts, “Fucking pathetic. Cried like a baby. You sure he was even a man?”

You don’t get a chance to respond, Minho moves.

He lunges.

The air you just got back leaves your lungs as his body slams into the nearest guard, tackling him to the floor. The metal clatter of armour, the surprised grunt of the square masked man, and the chaos of it all shatter the room’s tense stillness. Players scramble away, and shouts fill the air.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TALK ABOUT HIM!” Minho roars, fists landing hard against the guard’s helmet. The guard’s arms flail defensively, trying to block the blows, but Minho is relentless. “HE WAS TEN TIMES THE MAN YOU’LL EVER BE!”

Another guard rushes forward to pull him off, but Felix intercepts him, grabbing his arm. “Don’t touch him!”

Seungmin’s at your side, eyes wide, voice sharp. “Y/N, get back-get back-!”

You don’t move. You’re frozen. Because you know what’s coming. You see another square-masked guard, standing a few feet away, he reaches slowly for his gun.

“No…” You whisper, but the shot rings out anyway.

Minho’s body jerks backwards, the sound cracking through your ears. He stumbles. His face twists in disbelief as blood blooms over his stomach, spreading dark and fast beneath his fingers. His knees hit the floor.

“MINHO!” you scream, running to him before anyone else can react.

You slide beside him, your knees scraping the concrete as you press your hands over the wound. “No, no, no-stay with me-please-”

“Fuck! no-” Felix’s voice breaks, and he’s on the ground beside you, helping apply pressure. “You’re okay, Min, stay with us.”

Minho’s hand covers yours, weak but steady. “It’s okay, kitten…” he whispers. His voice is trembling, but soft, like he’s trying to comfort you.

“Don’t say that, don’t Minho, look at me-please-” Your tears fall freely now, hitting his cheeks, his blood-stained shirt, the floor beneath you. “Stay with me. You’re gonna be okay. Please.”

He blinks slowly, then winces, sucking in a sharp breath. “Hurts like hell…”

You faux laugh through your tears, like you’re helping him by putting on the act that you’re okay, “Then don’t be stupid and die, okay? Please!”

His eyes flutter. “Y/N…”

You shake your head violently. “Don’t close your eyes. Don’t you fucking close your eyes.” You shout.

He smiles faintly. “Tell my parents… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t talk like that-stop-please!” you sob, “I promise. I’ll tell them, okay? But you’re gonna tell them yourself, when we get out…when we all get out-”

“I promise,” you say again, as his head begins to tilt, heavier in your lap.

Then… the light leaves his eyes.

You freeze but your body is trembling.

You don’t feel the moment your hands stop pressing. You don’t feel the blood soaking your palms anymore, or Felix’s shaking voice, or Seungmin’s broken cry beside you.

You just stare at Minho’s face.

Still. Peaceful.

Gone.

A scream tears itself from your throat. You don’t even know you’re the one making it until your voice goes hoarse. You launch forward, toward the guards.

“You fucking monsters!” you howl. “He was unarmed!“

You scramble to your feet, rage burning so hot your skin feels like it’ll split apart. “You fucking murderers-!”

Triangle 156 grabs you from behind, yanking you backward and pinning your arms to your sides with brutal force. His chest presses against your back as he speaks low and cold in your ear.

“I wouldn’t,” he hisses, his voice venomous. “Unless you want to watch them kill you and your pretty boyfriend.”

You go rigid. Silent.

He lets you hang there in his grip, shaking, suffocating with hate and fear.

Then, just as suddenly, he releases you.

You collapse to the floor beside Minho’s body again, and the guards begin to file out, silent and mechanical, as if nothing had happened.

“Fucking cowards,” Felix whispers, wiping angrily at his cheeks.

Seungmin cradles Minho’s head in his lap now, rocking slowly, mouthing words you can’t hear. His tears fall silently.

You can’t move.

You can’t speak.

Hyunjin stands just a metre away.

He hasn’t said anything, hasn’t moved an inch since the shot fired. His eyes are glassy, his lips parted, his shoulders trembling.

One tear slides down his cheek, and he doesn’t wipe it away.

The only sound is the quiet sobbing of the boys, and your breath hitching over the corpse.

Minho’s gone and something in you dies with him.

Chapter 14 - Out Now!

Please do not copy my work!

Comments, likes & reblogs are welcomed 🩷

Images in banner are not mine!

Dividers by - @sisterlucifergraphics

TAGLIST - @eridanuswave @astro-des @ot8girlfie

@fairylix @estellan0vella @nightmarenyxx

@missygore @mysterysold @chloe-elise-2000

@minhosglasses @akindaflora @minniesverse

@hoes4minho @hhwangsmoon @riri53

@redlightshyunjinnie

OPEN

[hwangjoanna]

‘Red Light, Green Light’

UPDATE - So we are pretty much at the half-way point for my Squid Game AU fic! I still can’t believe I decided to do a full on series for my first ever fanfic but I’m really happy with the response so far!

I am so grateful to all my lovely readers! I appreciate you all so much! At the moment I have 12 chapters planned before it comes to the finale! So much to look forward to!

As always I wanted to put out another poll to see what you readers are thinking! Please comment and give feedback, it really helps me out 🩷

Once the last chapter has dropped, I will release a small post containing lore and things you may have missed leading up to the ending!

Taglist - @eridanuswave @astro-des @ot8girlfie @fairylix @estellan0vella @nightmarenyxx

@missygore @mysterysold @chloe-elise-2000

@minhosglasses @akindaflora @minniesverse @riri53 @hhwangsmoon @hoes4minho

[hwangjoanna]

‘Red Light, Green Light’

Series Masterlist

Dom/Hyunjin X Sub/Reader | Squid Game AU | 18+ MDNI | Enemies to Lovers | Thriller | Gore | Slow Burn | Angst | Fluff | Smut | Hyunjin, Minho & Seungmin are mean | Felix & Han are soft boys

When Y/N finds herself trapped in Squid Game she must fight to survive. Blood on the floor. Sirens wailing. A countdown ticking somewhere in the dark. She doesn’t remember how she got here, only that survival is the only option. Then she meets Hyunjin, Sharp-tongued. Distant. Dangerous. He plays the game like he’s done it before. Cold and calculated. A threat to everyone around him, except her. For some reason, he keeps pulling her out of the fire. Watching her too closely. Touching her like he owns her.

The worst part? She’s starting to let him.

As alliances shift and the body count rises, Y/N has to ask herself: Is he protecting her… or playing her?

Because in a place built on lies and violence, falling in love might be the most fatal mistake of all.

SERIES ONGOING

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15 - Coming Soon!

DISCLAIMER - I do not own the rights to Stray Kids or Squid Game. They have been used as inspiration for fictional characters and this fic does not represent who they are in real life.

Images in the banner are not mine. Neither are the dividers.

TAGLIST - @eridanuswave @astro-des @ot8girlfie @fairylix @estellan0vella @nightmarenyxx

@missygore @mysterysold @chloe-elise-2000

@minhosglasses @akindaflora @minniesverse @hoes4minho @hhwangsmoon @riri53 @redlightshyunjinnie @yaorzu-blog @aquamarine001

OPEN