Dynaloy

"You're the love of my life"

❯ summary: Park Sung-Hoon misinterprets a situation involving you and another man, leading to a heated argument. You try to clear the air and maintain a respectful co-parenting relationship but your famous baby daddy has a certain obsession with you.

❯ pairings: Park Sung-Hoon x fem!reader

❯ words: 2.0k

"You can't be serious," Park Sung-Hoon's voice was tight through phone, his eyes narrowed as he studied you across the crowded room. His grip on the champagne flute was so tense, you thought it might shatter.

"I'm not," you replied, trying to keep the frustration out of my own voice. you had been here before, but never in public, never in front of his colleagues. The air had their curious glances and whispers.

"Then why are you with him?" He nodded towards Mark, a producer from your office who had approached for a work-related discussion. Mark's eyes darted between you, sensing the tension but blissfully unaware of its source.

"It's just business," you said calmly, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. "You know Mark. He's just talking shop."

Sung-Hoon's jaw clenched, and he took a step closer. "You know what everyone else sees, don't you?" His words were a low growl, meant only for you. "They see my baby's mother with another man. What kind of message does that send?"

"What message are you talking about?" you shot back, your patience wearing thin. "We're just colleagues discussing a project. Our daughter is the only thing we share, remember?"

The room seemed to close in around you, the hum of conversation fading to background noise. His gaze was intense, searching your face for something, anything that would confirm his fears or allay them.

"I know what I see," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And it's not just about tonight. It's about the way you've been acting lately. The secret phone calls, the late nights at the office."

"What are you implying?" you took a step back. "You can't honestly believe that."

He took a deep breath, visibly struggling to keep his emotions in check. "I don't know what to believe anymore," he admitted, his voice ragged. "But I won't let you take Soo-Min away from me. She's all I have."

The mention of your daughter was like a knife to your heart. "You think I would do that?" you whispered, hurt and disbelief etched on my features.

"I don't know," he said, his eyes searching mine. "But I can't ignore it."

The weight of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. This was more than a simple misunderstanding; it was a culmination of fears and insecurities that had been festering beneath the surface for months. Sung-Hoon's life had changed so much since your fateful encounter. The paparazzi, the adoring fans, the constant scrutiny – it had all taken a toll on him, and it was clear that he was now projecting his own fears onto you.

You looked at Mark, who had tactfully excused himself, sensing the tension. He gave you an apologetic look before retreating to the safety of the crowd. Turning back to Sung-Hoon, you took a deep breath to gather your thoughts. "We need to talk," you said firmly. "But not here."

He followed you outside, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere inside. You led the way to a quiet spot under the soft glow of a streetlamp. Once out of earshot, you faced him, hands on your hips. "I have never given you a reason to doubt me," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil of emotions within. "I have always put Soo-Min first, even when it meant sacrificing my own happiness."

Sung-Hoon looked away, his expression a tumultuous mix of anger, hurt, and regret. "I know," he finally said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "But it's hard when it looks like he is fucking you."

You flinched at his crude words. "What are you talking about?"

He took another step closer, the warmth of his breath mingling with the cool night air. "The way he looks at you," he said, his voice thick with accusation. "The way he touches your arm when he laughs. It's all so… intimate."

You felt a spark of anger ignite in your chest. "You're my biggest regret," you spat out, the words surprising even you with their venom. "The night I let you into my bed was the worst mistake of my life."

Sung-Hoon's expression fell, his handsome features twisting into a grimace of pain. "So you regret Soo-Min too?" His voice cracked, the accusation heavy in the air.

You felt a wave of anger and sadness wash over you. "How could you say that?" you exclaimed, your voice shaking. "Soo-Min is the best thing that ever happened to me, the only thing good to come out of that night!"

Sung-Hoon's eyes searched yours, looking for truth in the words that you had thrown at him. His grip on the champagne flute tightened further, until a single drop of liquid trickled down the stem and onto his hand. "Really?" he asked, his voice strained. "Didn't look like it when you were moaning my name, telling me how good I made you feel, and you even had my baby… "

You slapped him before you could stop yourself. The sound echoed through the quiet night, leaving an uncomfortable silence between you. The sting of your palm on his cheek was a stark reminder of the line that had just been crossed. His eyes widened in shock.

"I regret nothing about Soo-Min," you said through gritted teeth. "But I regret having talked to you and letting you get close to me, letting you come into my house and take advantage of me. I never wanted a relationship with you I was focused on my work, that's why I came to Korea."

Sung-Hoon's eyes searched yours, the accusation hanging in the air. His hand came up to touch the red mark on his cheek, and you could see the realization dawn on his face. "Is that what you think?" he murmured, his voice barely audible. "That I used you?"

You didn't answer, the anger still simmering just beneath the surface. You felt the weight of the last few years, the endless photo shoots, interviews, and scandal articles that had painted you as the villain in his love life. The countless nights you had spent alone, raising your daughter while he basked in the spotlight.

"Look, I don't know what's going on in your head," you said, trying to keep your voice even. "But I can't do this. I can't have you accusing me of things that aren't true, and I won't let you drag Soo-Min into your mess."

Sung-Hoon's gaze softened, and he took a step closer, reaching out to touch your arm. "I know," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry. I just can't help it. You're the love of my life."

You stared at his hand on your arm, feeling a tornado of emotions whirl within you. "Don't say that," you pleaded, your voice trembling. "You can't keep putting this on me. I have a life too, and I can't live in the shadow of your obsession."

Sung-Hoon's hand fell away, and he took a step back, looking at you with a mix of confusion and desperation.

"I'm not obsessed," he said, his voice low and defensive. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with shaky hands. The flame from the lighter cast an orange glow across his furrowed brow as he took a deep drag, passing his free hand through his hair in agitation. The smoke curled around him like a shroud, obscuring his features for a brief moment before dissipating into the night. "I just want to be with you."

You watched him, the anger in his eyes mirrored in the fiery tip of his cigarette. "We had an agreement," you reminded him, your voice firm. "For Soo-Min's sake, we'd keep our personal feelings separate. You're breaking that."

Sung Hoon took a long drag, the end of the cigarette glowing brightly before he exhaled a plume of smoke into the night. "I know," he said, his voice thick with regret. "But every time I see you with someone else, it feels like you're slipping away from me."

You sighed, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. "You know that's not true," you said softly. "I'm not with anyone. I'm just trying to live my life, to give Soo-Min the best I can."

Sung Hoon's gaze didn't leave yours, the embers of his cigarette burning a small, fiery hole in the quiet night. "But what if I want to be the one to give her the best?" he asked, his voice cracking. "What if I want to be more than just a father who sends child support?"

You felt the sting of his words, the accusation in them hitting a nerve. "You know that's not fair," you replied, your voice firm but laced with sadness. "We agreed on this for a reason. You have your career, and I have mine."

Sung Hoon took a deep breath, the cigarette trembling slightly between his fingers. "I know," he said, his voice filled with regret. "But sometimes I just can't help but wish things were different." He took a step closer, the warmth of his body reaching you despite the cool evening air. "Do you ever think about us?"

You felt a lump form in your throat, the memories of your brief but intense romance rushing to the surface. "Of course I do," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "But we can't change the past. We have to focus on Soo-Min."

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw the raw vulnerability that had drawn you to him all those years ago. "I know," he said, taking one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it away.

You felt the weight of his gaze, the unspoken words hanging in the air between you. You knew he was right; you had to focus on Soo-Min. But it was hard when the man you had once loved was standing so close, his presence a potent reminder of the passion that had once consumed you both.

"Let's go back inside," you said, your voice firm but gentle. "We can talk more about this when we're not at an event."

Sung Hoon nodded, his gaze still locked on yours, and you felt a pang of regret for the accusations that had flown. He looked so lost, so hurt, and you knew that this was not the man you had fallen for, but a man who had been consumed by his fears and the weight of his fame.

You turned on your heel and began walking back to the event, the sound of your heels clicking against the pavement echoing in the stillness. As you approached the entrance, you called for your driver, your heart racing. You needed space, to think and breathe without the suffocating pressure of his accusations.

As the car pulled away from the curb, you couldn't help but glance back at him. He was still standing under the streetlamp, staring after you with a mix of anger and despair. You knew that look; it was the same one he had worn the night you had told him you were pregnant. The same look he had when he had realized that his world was about to be forever changed.

Sung Hoon saw you going and called one of his bitches just to realease a quick nut and then he pretended to be busy with work for the rest of the night. He had to deal with his emotions alone, the crowd inside was no match for the storm he was feeling.

The ride home was a blur of lights and sounds that you barely registered. You were lost in thought, replaying the conversation in your mind, searching for a way to mend the rift that had opened between you. When you arrived, you found Soo-Min fast asleep, her small form nestled under her blanket, her face serene in the moonlight filtering through the window. the babysitter gave you a knowing look as she handed over the house keys. She had seen the news, the whispers, and the glares at events.

You knew that the situation had to change, for her sake if nothing else. You couldn't keep letting Sung-Hoon's insecurities affect your relationship, especially when it came to Soo-Min.

"Remember this night, but don't let it define you"

❯ summary: In a masquerade ball's seductive embrace, you, a young medicine student crosses paths with the enigmatic celebrity, Gong Yoo. The electric connection between you leads to a night of unbridled passion, where you, surrenders your virginity to the skilled and experienced actor.

❯ pairings: Gong Yoo x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, angst, one night stand ...

❯ words: 3.4k

The evening was a dance of shadows and glitter, as the masquerade ball unfolded in the grand ballroom. The air had the scent of perfume and the faint aroma of chocolate from the fountain by the dessert table. You, felt both out of place and utterly fascinated by the opulence around you. This wasn't your usual scene, you are a medicine studant but your friend Mark, who had scored the invites, had insisted. "You never know who you'll meet," he'd said with a knowing wink.

You found yourself drawn to the mysterious man in the corner, his eyes meeting yours through the slits of his mask. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a gentle smile that hinted at secrets behind the velvet. His presence was magnetic, and when he approached you, the whispers of the crowd seemed to fade into a distant echo.

As he took your hand for a dance, you felt your heart flutter, unsure if it was nerves or the excitement of being so close to someone so intriguing. The music wrapped around you like a warm embrace, guiding your bodies in a rhythmic sway that felt as if it had been rehearsed for a lifetime. His touch was firm yet tender, and you could feel his eyes on you, searching, as if trying to peer through the layers of your own disguise.

His grip tightened as the song reached its crescendo, pulling you closer until your masks touched. The electricity between you was palpable, sending shivers down your spine. He leaned in and whispered, "Follow me." With a mix of trepidation and thrill, you did.

He led you through a labyrinth of velvet curtains to a quiet balcony overlooking the moonlit garden. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth of the ballroom, and it sent a shiver through your body that had nothing to do with the temperature. He gently removed his mask, revealing the face of Gong Yoo. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you speechless. He chuckled softly, "Surprised?"

"yes... i mean- we never expect to meet a celebrity in person," you finally managed to stutter, fingertips trembling against your own mask.

Gong Yoo's eyes twinkled with mischief as he lifted your mask, revealing your flushed cheeks. "And who are you, my lovely dance partner?"

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "I'm…" but the words stuck in your throat. He tilted his head, waiting patiently. "I'm… just a medicine studant," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gong Yoo's smile widened, his gaze never leaving yours. "And what brings a beautiful, young student like yourself to a masquerade like this?"

With a playful tilt of your head, you replied in a sultry tone, "Curiosity, perhaps. The thrill of the unknown." You stepped closer, feeling the heat from his body. "And maybe the hope of a fairytale encounter with a handsome stranger."

Gong Yoo's eyes searched yours, a silent question lingering in them. You took the plunge, reaching up to gently trace the line of his jaw. "Do you believe in fairytales, Mr. Gong?"

His gaze grew intense, his voice a soft rumble. "I believe in moments that feel like them, yes."

Leaning in, you whispered, "And what if this moment turned into something more?"

Gong Yoo's breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire. He took your hand, leading you away from the prying eyes of the masquerade. His grip was firm yet gentle, as if guiding you through a dream. You could feel the heat of his skin, and your own hand seemed to fit perfectly into his.

In a dimly lit hallway, he paused, looking down at you with an intensity that made your knees wobble. "how old are you??" he asked again, his voice a soft caress that sent waves of warmth through your body.

You met his gaze, your eyes half-lidded with desire. "I'm old enough to know what I want," you murmured, your voice a sultry invitation that hung in the air between you.

Gong Yoo's grip tightened on your hand, and he leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "And what is it that you want?" His question was a challenge, a test of your resolve.

With a coy smile, you whispered, "I want to feel alive." Your voice was a siren's song, a soft invitation to a world of passion and adventure. "I want to know what it's like to be with someone like you, even if it's just for one night."

"someone like me? a rich celebrity?" he frowns a little.

"Someone like you. An experienced man"

Gong Yoo studied you for a moment, his gaze a mix of curiosity and surprise. He leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "And what makes you think I could give you that?" His voice was a velvet caress, low and intimate, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

You tilted your chin up, looking into his eyes with a boldness you didn't know you had. "Because I can see it in the way you move, the way you speak. You've lived, experienced life in a way I haven't. And for one night, I want a taste of that." You stepped even closer, your breasts brushing against his chest, the heat of his body searing through the thin fabric of your gown.

He took a moment to process your words, his eyes searching yours. Then, with a smoldering smile, Gong Yoo leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss that stole your breath away. It was a kiss filled with hunger and promise, a kiss that made you feel like the most important person in the world. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. The chemistry was undeniable, the spark that had ignited on the dance floor now a raging inferno. almost immediately he turns you around into the wall and kiss your neck from behind, you smirk at his suddenly rough demeanor.

As the kiss deepened, his hands roamed up your body, cupping your face and tangling in your hair. The heat grew, and you knew that you were playing with fire. you could feel his hard rock member on your ass.

Gong Yoo's kisses grew more urgent, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving into the warmth of your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer still. His touch was intoxicating, and you felt like you were losing yourself in him, like you were drowning in a sea of desire that you never wanted to escape.

As his hands continued to explore, you felt a rush of anticipation mixed with a hint of nerves. This was uncharted territory for you, a night that was unfolding like the pages of a steamy novel. You knew you were playing with fire, but the thrill of the unknown was too tempting to resist. You had dreamed of this moment, of feeling desired by a man who knew the art of seduction, and here it was, happening to you, in the flesh.

You didn't tell him it was your first time, allowing the mystery of your inexperience to add to the allure. You had watched his dramas, studied the way his characters moved with confidence and passion, and now you were the one in his arms, eager to learn. You hoped that in the shadow of your mask, he wouldn't see the innocence in your eyes, wouldn't hear the tremble in your voice when you whispered for more.

Suddenly, you were in his suite, the door closing with a soft click behind you. The air was thick with tension as he spun you around, pinning you against the wall. His eyes searched yours for consent, and you nodded, your pulse racing. He kissed you harder, his hands moving with a new urgency, as if he were starving for the feel of your skin.

He lifted you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, your gown hiking up to reveal your bare thighs. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently before stripping away the layers of your clothing with an efficiency that spoke of practice. But with Gong Yoo, it didn't feel mechanical or cold; it felt like a sacred ritual, a revealing of something precious.

He licked and sucked all your body and When he finally entered you, it was with a fierce, almost primal growl that sent shockwaves through your body. You cried out, your nails digging into the sheets, as he filled you completely, stretching you in ways you had never imagined. It was painful, but the pain was quickly swallowed by the waves of pleasure that crashed over you, leaving you gasping for air.

He whispered in your ear, his voice strained, "You can handle this, baby,"

He took you from behind, the angle making everything feel more intense, more intimate. Each thrust sent sparks shooting through your body, and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he whispered dirty words in Korean, his breath hot against your neck.

''You seduced me and now you're crying? I'm sure this virgin cunt can handle it baby, can you?"

You nodded, eyes squeezed shut, trying to absorb the overwhelming sensations. You felt a strange mix of pain and pleasure, his every movement a revelation. His grip on your hip was firm, guiding your body to meet his in a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful. Each time he thrust into you, it was like a lightning bolt of sensation that traveled from the core of your being out to the very tips of your fingers and toes. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, feeling the pressure build until it was too much to contain.

"wait " you panted, your voice barely recognizable. "please."

he smirks, giving slow thrusts. " handle it"

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but it was quickly followed by a rush of heat as your body started to respond to his roughness. You could feel your walls tightening around him, the tension building. He noticed your reaction, and with a knowing smile, he reached between your legs, his thumb finding your clit. He began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, and suddenly the pain was a distant memory, replaced by a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to drown you.

"Good girl," he murmured in your ear, his voice a dark promise.

Your body responded to his praise, your hips bucking back into him, meeting his every thrust. The pain had transformed into an all-consuming need, and you found yourself craving more, the ache in your core growing with each stroke. Gong Yoo's movements grew more urgent, his breathing ragged as he claimed you in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. You felt your body begin to tighten, the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter, until you couldn't hold back anymore.

With a guttural cry that seemed to come from deep within your soul, you shattered, your climax ripping through you like a storm. The world around you was a whirlwind of sensation, your nails digging into his back, your body arching off the bed. Gong Yoo held you tight, his own release following closely behind, his body trembling with the force of it.

he filled you with his cum, and you felt his warmth inside you, his grip loosening slightly as his body went slack with satisfaction. He pulled out and turned you to face him, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or pain. You saw only passion, a hunger satiated but not extinguished. He leaned in for a gentle kiss.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his thumb brushing your lips.

You nodded, your voice a shaky whisper. "More than okay," you managed to say, your body still trembling and sore from the aftershocks of pleasure.

He smiled, a soft, gentle expression that seemed at odds with the intensity of moments before. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you, and you felt the warmth of his embrace envelop you like a blanket. His heart was beating fast against your chest, a reassuring rhythm that echoed the racing of your own heart.

Your thoughts swirled like a tornado, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations that you couldn't quite pin down. How had he known? Was it that obvious? The idea was both thrilling and humiliating, a secret you hadn't meant to share.

You stared up at the ceiling, Gong Yoo's arms still wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. You could feel the sticky evidence of your shared passion between your legs, a stark reminder of what had just transpired. Had he felt your inexperience? Did it matter to him?

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble against your ear.

"Just… processing," you replied, your voice a soft sigh. "That was…"

"More than you expected?" Gong Yoo's smile was playful, but his eyes searched yours for any sign of distress.

"Incredible," you whispered, your cheeks flushing with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment. "I've never… I mean, no one's ever…"

Gong Yoo's smile grew tender, his thumb brushing the curve of your cheek. "Your first time should have been special," he said softly. "i think i was too hard on you but I'm honored it was with me."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any trace of pity or condescension, but found only genuine concern. "It was," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "More than I ever could have imagined."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "And now," he murmured, "we'll explore what else I can teach you."

The rest of the night was a blur of passion and discovery. Gong Yoo was a skilled lover, attentive and patient, guiding you through each new sensation with a tenderness that belied his earlier aggression. You learned the art of pleasure under his skilled touch, every nerve in your body singing with life. He taught you how to ride him, how to take control, how to suck and how to let go completely. With each peak and valley of ecstasy, you felt a part of yourself unfurling, like a bud opening to reveal a beautiful, untouched bloom.

As dawn approached, the two of you lay entwined in a tangle of sheets, your bodies glistening with sweat and satisfaction. Gong Yoo traced lazy patterns on your bare skin with his fingertips, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence was comfortable, filled with the quiet whispers of your breathing and the occasional rustle of the curtains as the first light of day played across the floor.

You felt a strange mix of emotions – excitement, vulnerability, and a hint of melancholy that this magical night was coming to an end. You had no illusions about what this was; a chance encounter, a fairytale come to life for a brief moment. But you couldn't help the way your heart fluttered at the thought of never feeling his touch again.

Gong Yoo must have sensed your thoughts, because he leaned in to kiss you, his lips gentle and reassuring. "You're incredible," he whispered against your skin. "I didn't know it was possible to feel so much for someone I just met."

You blushed, your heart racing at the sincerity in his voice. "I feel the same," you admitted. "But what happens now?"

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the rising sun. "Now, we go back to our lives. I'm a celebrity, and you're a student with a bright future ahead. This was our secret, a night that belonged to us alone."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken words behind his gentle smile. You knew that this was a one-night stand, a memory that would burn brightly in the annals of your mind but never leave this hotel room. Yet, you couldn't help the pang of sadness that twisted in your chest.

As you dressed, you took one last look at him, the man who had taken your virginity and given you a taste of a world you had only dreamed of. He watched you with a soft smile, his eyes lingering on every curve and line of your body as if committing it to memory.

When you were both dressed, he offered you his hand, helping you to your feet. "Thank you," you murmured, feeling the weight of the words in your chest.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you," he said, his voice a caress. "i wish i could be the man that you deserve but, you know, my life and all this… i could ruin you, and i want the best for you. So, thank you, For letting me be part of your story."

You stepped away, the fabric of your dress whispering against your legs as you moved. Gong Yoo watched you with a mix of admiration and something else, something deeper that made your heart clench. He walked over to the balcony, the light from the rising sun casting a halo around his silhouette. The room was bathed in the soft glow of early morning, the shadows of the masquerade fading with each passing moment.

"I should go," you murmured, your voice laced with reluctance. You didn't want this night to end, didn't want to step back into the real world where you were just a student and he was a star on a pedestal.

"Yes," he agreed, his tone heavy with the same regret. "But know that I will never forget you." He turned to face you, the early light painting his features in a way that made him look like a god.

You nodded, your throat tight. "Nor I, you." You took a deep breath, willing yourself to be strong. "But this… this was just a night. A beautiful, perfect night. But it can't be more than that." His thumb traced the line of your palm, sending a shiver up your spine. "And I'm grateful for every second of this night."

You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Me too," you whispered. "But we both have our paths to follow."

He squeezed your hand gently before letting go, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken truth between you. "I'll walk you to the door," he offered, his voice low and warm.

As you stepped into the hallway, the sounds of the masquerade had faded away, leaving only the quiet hum of the early morning. You felt a sudden chill without his embrace, the reality of the moment setting in. This was it – the end of your fairytale.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek as he whispered, "Remember this night, but don't let it define you. You're destined for greatness, and I have no doubt you'll achieve it."

With a final lingering look, you opened the suite door, and you stepped into the hallway, the soft click of the lock echoing in your ears. You took a moment to compose yourself, the ache between your legs a physical reminder of the passion you had shared.

Walking back to Mark's place, the cool air was a stark contrast to the heat of the suite. You couldn't help but feel a sense of loss, as if you were leaving a piece of yourself behind. Yet, as the sun began to rise, you felt a strange sense of empowerment. You had faced your fears and walked away with a story that would fuel your fantasies for years to come.

When you finally arrived back at Mark's apartment, the light was on, and you could hear the faint sound of his snoring. You tiptoed in, careful not to wake him. As you slipped into bed, you couldn't help but replay the night's events in your mind. The way Gong Yoo's eyes had darkened with desire, the feel of his hands on your skin, the sound of his voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

You realized that this encounter would always be with you, a secret treasure that you would cherish. It was a reminder that sometimes, life threw you curveballs that could lead to the most amazing adventures. And as you drifted off to sleep, the warmth of the memory lulling you into a peaceful slumber, you couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be another night like this one.

He stops and look at you.

“what did you say?”

Lee Byung-hun | Front man x fem!reader

Summary: After surviving the Squid Game, you’re approached by Hwang In-ho, the former Front Man, who secretly feels responsible for your pain. As he helps you rebuild your life, his guilt and your anger clash, but an unexpected bond begins to form. When he confesses his past and asks for forgiveness, you struggle with your feelings.

author’s note: You are free to imagine yourself however you want but I always imagine as a foreign woman in Korea. Hope you guys like it.

It had been a year since the Squid Game, and the world had moved on. The news cycles had churned out their fill of the horrors, the survivors had been cast back into obscurity, and the games had once again retreated into the shadows of urban legend. But for you, the nightmares remained as vivid as the day you had stepped off that fateful plane, the faces of your lost friends haunting your every waking moment. You had survived the games and won the prize but you weren’t living.

One evening, as the neon lights of the city flickered to life outside your small, cramped apartment, you decided to venture out in search of something—anything—to distract you from the ghosts of your past. Rain pattered against the windowpanes, creating a rhythm that seemed to echo the chaotic dance of your thoughts. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the small, dimly lit coffee shop downstairs, luring you in with the promise of warmth and solace.

You stepped inside, the bell jingling as the door swung shut behind you. The barista nodded a familiar greeting, and you took your usual spot in the corner, a table sticky with the residue of a hundred forgotten drinks. As you stared into the murky depths of your black coffee, trying to read the future in the swirling patterns, a man entered. Tall, with a sharp jawline and piercing eyes, he had an aura of quiet strength that seemed almost out of place in the dingy establishment.

He noticed you immediately, his gaze lingering for a second too long before he ordered a drink and took a seat across from you. He introduced himself as Hwang In-ho, and though something about his name tickled the back of your mind, you couldn’t quite place it. His voice was soothing, his mannerisms gentle—like a balm to your soul in a world that had become too harsh and jaded. Without realizing it, you found yourself opening up to him, sharing the weight of your burdens with someone who seemed to understand your pain. As the hours slipped by, you realized that for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope, a whisper of human connection in the vast loneliness that had become your existence.

Over the next few weeks, In-ho became a fixture in your life—helping you find a stable job, offering a listening ear, and even cooking you dinner when the memories grew too much to bear. His kindness was a stark contrast to the ruthless efficiency you remembered from the games, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the enigma that was this man. In the quiet moments, you’d catch him watching you, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored your own. It was as if he was fighting his own invisible demons, ones that you desperately wanted to help him vanquish.

But there were moments, fleeting as they were, that made you question his intentions. The way his hand would hover just a fraction too long when he handed you a cup of tea, or the knowing glances he’d cast at the TV when news of the Squid Game would briefly resurface. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding something back, that there was more to him than met the eye. Yet, you pushed these thoughts aside, telling yourself that you were just being paranoid—that the games had left you too suspicious of even the most innocent of gestures.

Then, one night, as you rummaged through a pile of old newspapers, a photograph slipped into view—an image of the Front Man, the mastermind behind the Squid Game. Your heart stopped as you stared at the picture, the masked figure’s eyes eerily similar to the ones you’d looked into so often during your late-night chats with In-ho. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. He was watching you, not just as a concerned friend, but as someone who knew the darkest secrets of your soul. You had to know the truth.

You waited for In-ho's next visit, your nerves jangling like an out-of-tune guitar string. When he arrived, his smile was as warm as ever, but you couldn’t ignore the tremor in your hand as you handed him a cup of coffee. The air grew thick with tension as you held the newspaper out to him, the damning photo on full display.

"Is this you?" you demanded, your voice shaking.

He took the paper, his eyes flitting from your face to the image and back again. For a moment, you thought he might deny it. But then, with a sigh that seemed to deflate his very essence, he nodded.

"Yes, it is," he admitted, his voice low and pained. "But please, let me explain."

He began to recount his history, the story of his brother and the origins of the Squid Game. He told about how his wife died without treatment and he went to the game to pay his debts, he won the prize after the founder befriends him and died letting the control of the game on his hands.

"After that," he paused, his voice thick with regret, "I became the Front Man. I watched over everything, ensured the games ran smoothly. And when you played, I watched you, too."

You felt the color drain from your face as his words sank in. "Why me?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hiss of the espresso machine.

"Because you were different," he replied, his gaze intense. "You had a fire in your eyes—a will to live that was stronger than the rest. I didn't want you to win because you were the best player, but because I knew you had a reason to survive."

You slammed the newspaper down on the counter, the sound echoing through the empty café. "That doesn't change anything," you spat. "You were the one who sent me there, who forced me to watch my friends die."

He didn't flinch at your anger. Instead, he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know what I've done is unforgivable. But since that day, I've seen the way you've struggled. The pain you carry is like my own, and I wanted to help you carry it."

For a long moment, you just stared at him, the weight of his confession pressing down on you like an invisible vice. His words, his demeanor, everything about him was a stark contrast to the cold, calculated figure you knew from the games. Yet, the evidence was right there in front of you. You had to decide whether to trust the man before you or hold onto the anger that had become your lifeline.

Taking a deep breath, you demanded, "What do you want from me?"

He looked at you with a mix of hope and desperation. "Redemption, perhaps. But mostly, I want you to understand that I'm not the monster you think I am. I'm just a man who made terrible choices, trying to make amends."

The room grew quiet, save for the rhythmic patter of the rain outside. You felt torn between the rage that burned within you and the strange comfort you had found in his presence. As the silence stretched on, a question bubbled to the surface of your thoughts—what would you do with the truth now that you had it?

"I need time to process this," you finally said, your voice firm despite the turmoil within.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here."

With that, he left you alone in the coffee shop, the mask of his true identity shattered on the floor between you. Outside, the rain had turned to a gentle drizzle, as if the world was holding its breath in anticipation of your next move.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the photograph and the story he told you swirling in your mind. His words of regret and his desire for redemption echoed in your ears. Was he truly sorry, or was this just another game, another twisted manipulation?

Days turned into weeks as you wrestled with your emotions, trying to reconcile the man you thought you knew with the monster he had revealed himself to be. The late-night chats grew fewer, the warmth of his smile cooler with each passing encounter. Yet, with every step you took away from him, you felt a strange pull, a whisper that maybe—just maybe—his love for you was genuine.

One rainy evening, you found yourself standing outside the coffee shop again, the neon lights casting a warm glow on the damp pavement. You knew you had to make a choice: either walk away from the enigma that was Hwang In-ho and the painful ties to your past, or take a chance and confront him with the full weight of your anger and doubt.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door, the bell chiming a greeting that felt like a declaration of war. He was there, sitting at your usual table, looking up at you with those haunted eyes.

"You came," he said, his voice tentative.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You had rehearsed a thousand scenarios in your mind, but now that you were facing him, the words felt jumbled and raw. He looked so... ordinary. The man you had feared, the man who had orchestrated your living hell, reduced to sipping coffee in a worn-out sweater, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and despair.

You took a seat across from him, the air between you crackling with tension. He waited, his hands clasped around the mug as if it was a lifeline. You studied him, searching for the Front Man you knew, the one who had made you play those games, who had watched you suffer. But all you saw was In-ho, the man who had held your hand in the dark, who had made you laugh when you thought you had forgotten how.

"I've been thinking," you began, your voice steady despite the tumult in your soul. "About what you said. About what you are, and what you've done."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "And?"

You took a deep breath, the scent of the coffee shop mingling with the dampness of the rain outside. "And I’ve decided that I can’t live with the anger anymore. It’s eating away at me, In-ho. I need to let it go."

The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Raindrops pattered against the windows, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the silence that stretched out like a tightrope between you.

"But," you added, your voice firm, "Forgiveness doesn’t mean I excuse what you’ve done. It means I’m willing to let go of the anger, for myself. So, yes, I forgive you—not because you deserve it, but because I need to move forward. And if you truly want to change, I’ll give you the chance to prove it."

hot obsession

You've always been watching the salesman, intrigued by his coldness and beauty. One night he sees you and follows you to an alley, so many times you imagine him close to your body and finally you feel his touch but he shows you that he's always seen you watching.

As you observed him from afar, something shifted in the air. His gaze, once focused solely on the trembling players while he slapped one, flickered up and met yours. For a moment, time seemed to pause. The world around you grew fuzzy, and the only thing you could see was the knowing smirk that twisted the corner of his mouth. He'd caught you. You felt a strange mix of excitement and fear as he stepped away from the circle of light cast by the solitary street lamp and began to walk in your direction. Your legs threatened to give way, but you remained rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the predator approaching. The clack of his shoes on the pavement echoed through the alley, the sound of fate drawing closer with each step.

All you could focus on was the salesman, his tall figure casting a long shadow that grew as he approached. When he finally stopped in front of you, you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. They were like pools of black ink, swirling with secrets and dark promises. He said nothing, merely offered a single card to you—the one you'd been watching him play with all this time. Your hand trembled as you took it, feeling the weight of his stare as he stepped closer, his body heat an invasive force that seemed to melt the cold cobblestone beneath your feet.

Without a word, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You've been watching me, haven't you?" His voice was a whispered caress, a stark contrast to the harshness of his demeanor. "I've seen you, every night, hiding in the dark." His hand snaked around your wrist, gripping it firmly, guiding it to his chest. Your pulse raced, matching the tempo of his heartbeat. "Do you know what happens to those who are too curious, little rabbit?" His smile was cold, yet it sent a thrill through you. He knew you were there, he knew you were fascinated, and he was going to make you pay for it.

The alley grew colder as he pushed you against the rough brick wall, his body a wall of heat and danger. His free hand traced the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip in a silent demand for a response. "I—I don't know," you stuttered, your voice barely audible. His grip tightened, his eyes narrowing. "But you're about to find out." And with that, he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, leaving you gasping for air and craving more. This was a game you hadn't anticipated playing with him, but as his tongue danced with yours, you realized you'd been yearning for this moment without even knowing it. The salesman had seen right through your facade of indifference, and now you were his to toy with, to win over, to conquer.

He released you from the kiss, his breath ragged and his eyes gleaming with a newfound hunger. "You want to know what it's like to win?" he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "To feel the rush of victory?" His hand slid down your body, his touch light but insistent. You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your mind a whirlwind of desire and trepidation. "Good," he said, "I'm going to show you just how much you've been underestimating me." His hand found the hem of your shirt, and with one swift motion, he lifted it over your head, his gaze never leaving yours.

The cold night air kissed your bare skin, sending goosebumps racing down your spine. Yet, his touch was anything but cold. It was fiery, possessive, leaving no part of you untouched by the flames of his desire. He traced the curve of your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples. A whimper escaped your lips, and he chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You're trembling," he noted, his voice a dark purr. "Are you afraid, little rabbit?" He leaned in, his teeth grazing your neck, sending waves of pleasure-pain that had you arching into him. "You should be."

The alley became a cocoon of lust as he unbuckled your pants, sliding them down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. His hands roamed over your bare skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched. You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against you, demanding entry. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with agonizing slowness. He stepped back, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh, and you felt a strange thrill knowing you were utterly at his mercy.

The salesman leaned in again, his mouth finding yours in a brutal kiss that stole what was left of your breath. His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers sliding through your wetness, teasing your clit with expert precision. You moaned, your body betraying your fear, begging for more. He chuckled again, the sound a dark symphony in the quiet of the night. "You're going to remember this," he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. "Remember that I always win." And with that, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that had your knees buckling. You clung to him, your body writhing against the wall, desperately seeking relief from the exquisite torture he inflicted. His other hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he ravaged your neck, his teeth sinking into your flesh.

The alley spun around you, the world outside forgotten as he claimed your body. His thumb circled your clit, his fingers pumping into you with a rhythm that made your vision swim. The brick wall was cold against your bare back, the contrast with his burning touch making it feel like you were on fire. Your moans grew louder, echoing off the alley walls as you approached the precipice of climax. And just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he stopped, pulling away with a cruel smile. "Not yet," he said, his voice thick with need. "First, I want to hear you beg."

You whimpered, your eyes pleading with him. "Please," you gasped, your voice barely recognizable. "I need you." It was true; you'd never felt this alive, this consumed by another's touch. You have been imagining how was his touch while you would use your dildo but it was not even close to this reality. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with a dark triumph. "Say it," he demanded, his thumb stroking your swollen clit with maddening gentleness. "Beg me to let you come." You hated how much you wanted to give in to him, how much you needed his cruel game to end in sweet release.

But you didn't dare to disobey. "I—I beg you," you whispered, the words leaving your mouth with a sense of both humiliation and excitement. "Please, let me win." He chuckled, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. "Very well," he said, and with that, his hand resumed its relentless pace. You felt your orgasm building again, the pressure coiling tight in your core. This time, when it broke, it was like a dam bursting, a wave of pleasure that crashed over you and left you shuddering against the wall, your nails digging into the bricks.

As the tremors subsided, you slumped against the cold brick, panting and trembling. He stepped back, adjusting his own clothing with a sense of calm that seemed almost inhuman. "You've had your taste," he said, his voice now cold and detached. "But remember, in the grand scheme of things, this was just a warm-up." His eyes searched yours, looking for the understanding, the acceptance of your new role as his conquest. You nodded, your throat tight with a mix of fear and excitement.