Dirty Game - ham dae-gil
Summary | You and Dae-gil have known each other since you were kids, but due to your parents' work, you were separated. Until you meet again at a gambling house, along with those hidden feelings resurfacing.
Pairing | ham dae-gil x fem!reader.
Genre | romance, erotic literature.
Warnings | fluff, romance, smut.
Author's note | English is not my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.
"Here..." little Dae-gil gently opened your small hand, placing something in it. He looked at you with a mix of tenderness and a bit of insecurity, as if the gesture was bigger than words could express. You didn’t know what it was, but the weight of his gaze made you feel it wasn’t just anything.
"What is it?" you asked, your voice trembling from the mix of confusion and the small knot forming in your throat. You were about to open your palm, but he quickly closed it again, his small finger stopping your curiosity from taking over.
"Open it when you get to Japan, okay?" his smile was warm, but there was something in his eyes, a strange gleam—as if he wanted to say more, but couldn’t.
You nodded silently, head lowered and heart pounding loudly in your chest. You didn’t want to leave.
It had been a difficult year, but everything was worth it when he was around. Dae-gil had been the only person to treat you with such pure kindness, expecting nothing in return. He had been your friend, your confidant. And somehow, even at just eleven years old, you knew—he was your first love, even if you didn’t fully understand what that meant.
"I’m going to miss you so much, Dae-dae..." the words slipped out, and soon you felt tears starting to fill your eyes. You couldn’t stop them. He looked at you, wide-eyed and serious, and with a tenderness you never forgot, reached out to wipe your tears, so gently it felt like time paused for that brief moment.
"You can be sure that when I grow up, I’ll come visit you, Y/n." his words were a promise—one you didn’t know if it would ever come true, but that gave you a flicker of hope. His smile was a safe haven, and you blushed. Despite the pain, you smiled back, even if only faintly.
"Y/n! It’s time to go!" your mother called from the car, her tone impatient, but her face also showed a mix of love and concern. You shouted back that you were coming, though the weight of the goodbye had frozen you in place for a moment.
On impulse, with your heart racing, you leaned in and gave Dae-gil a small kiss on the cheek. He blushed, his eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing. He only looked at you, his face reflecting an emotion he didn’t dare put into words.
"I’ll think of you every day..." you said, the words coming out with more strength than you felt. And without waiting for a reply, you turned and ran toward the car, your friend’s gift still clutched tightly in your hand.
Your heart was torn between the excitement of knowing you’d someday open what he had given you, and the deep sadness of leaving behind the only person who had ever made you feel truly special. You ran, tears falling silently, but with a tiny spark of hope that would stay with you through every step of the new journey waiting for you in Japan.
As soon as the plane landed and your feet touched Japanese soil, the first thing you did was open the palm of your hand. Throughout the entire flight, you had kept it closed, as if by doing so, you could hold onto a final piece of him with you. You felt that if you opened it too soon, something inside you would break.
You held your breath as you slowly spread your fingers, as if unwrapping a secret. When your eyes fell upon the small object lying in the center of your hand, a sharp pang pierced your chest.
It was a ring. A small gold ring, worn at some edges but still shining faintly under the dim light of the airport. You recognized it immediately. Dae-gil had told you about it once, with a proud smile that he could barely conceal. He had won it in a childhood bet against an older boy, whose mother worked at a luxury jewelry store. He treated it like a treasure, like proof that, although small, he could achieve great things.
And now he had given it to you.
Your lips trembled before curling into a pout, and without being able to stop it, tears began to roll down your cheeks. You didn’t know if you were crying because of the sadness of having left him behind, because of the tenderness of the gesture, or because of the weight of understanding that he had given you something valuable... something that meant far more than the object itself.
Even with your cheeks wet, you smiled. You gently stroked the surface of the ring, as if with that touch you could feel Dae-gil’s hand once again, his warmth, his promise.
"We will see each other again," you thought firmly, holding onto that illusion as if it were the only thing keeping you standing.
And you waited. With all your heart, you waited.
Poor naive girl.
You didn’t even know that, somewhere in the corner of time, he had already forgotten you. While you carried him in your heart like a constant flame, he got lost among new faces, new promises, and new lives, leaving behind what had been eternal to you.
More than ten years had passed since that farewell. Japan had shaped you, hardened you, but it had also taught you how to survive with elegance. The ring Dae-gil had given you still hung from a fine chain resting on your chest, invisible to the world, yet burning like a memory that refused to fade.
Korea... you hadn’t been back since then.
But now, your steps were taking you back, not out of nostalgia, but for work. Letters were no longer just a pastime. You had learned to read faces, to calculate probabilities, to move like a shadow between traps and temptations. You had become someone who didn’t let herself be easily deceived, yet a part of you still sought something that neither chance nor money could give you.
The gambling house where you had been summoned was hidden among rarely traveled streets in Seoul, in a building with no sign, guarded by two men in suits who spoke more with their eyes than with words. You descended the stairs with a steady step, knowing perfectly where you were going, though inside, something thudded in your chest.
Dim lights, cigarette smoke, laughter from false friends. The atmosphere was thick, humid, laden with tension. And you fit right in.
You approached the main table, where the most experienced players shuffled the cards with the precision of a surgeon. You weren’t there to watch. You were there to win.
With elegance, you slid into one of the empty chairs, crossing your legs naturally as you placed your arms on your lap. The red velvet of the dress molded to your figure like a second skin, the subtle neckline accentuating a silhouette impossible to ignore. The dim lighting of the room highlighted the crimson of your dress and the glow of your skin, as if you were part of a carefully calculated scene.
And it was. Everything you did now had purpose.
Male gazes fell upon you with desire disguised as interest. The women, however, pierced you with eyes full of judgment and curiosity. But you weren’t looking for those glances. You were looking for one in particular.
And you found it.
He wasn’t looking at you like the others. His gaze didn’t linger on your cleavage, nor on your lips, nor the way you played with a lock of your hair. No. His eyes were fixed on the small ring hanging from your neck, suspended by a fine chain that barely brushed your skin.
That ring.
His expression became distant. As if a memory had pierced his chest suddenly. As if the world around him blurred, and only a hazy image remained, buried beneath the years and the lies.
You noticed it immediately. That look. That confusion.
And you smiled. Not with mockery, nor with arrogance. You smiled with that sweet venom hidden in the honey of silent revenge.
Because you knew who he was.
How could you forget those brown eyes, that angelic face that, as a child, hid a charming mischief. Now his face was harder, more weathered by life. But his eyes... those hadn’t changed. And although you recognized him immediately, he still hadn’t tied the pieces together.
Until he stood up.
With slow but determined steps, he left his table and walked toward yours. He sat right across from you, with the expression of someone who feels like something doesn’t quite fit, but still doesn’t know what it is.
You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.
And as if the universe were conspiring in favor of the tension, more players gathered. The dealer shuffled the cards with practiced movements, and a new game of seotda began.
The table was a battlefield disguised in velvet and smoke. He didn’t stop staring at you, and you… you knew the real game was just beginning.
The dealer began to deal the cards with precision. The soft click of each card on the green felt mixed with the murmur of the expectant crowd, held breaths, and the faint clinking of chips stacked to the side.
You didn’t look directly at him, but you felt it. His gaze scanned you insistently, not like a player trying to read his opponent, but as someone searching for an answer buried in memory.
He took his cards without tearing his eyes away from you. You did the same, as if this were just another game.
"Do you come here often?" he asked, finally, his voice deeper than you remembered, but with an unsettlingly familiar tone.
"No." You played with the chain around your neck, allowing the ring to shine for a moment under the light. "Let’s say... I had unfinished business in Korea."
His eyebrow arched. For an instant, a spark of confusion crossed his face. You saw him struggle with the idea, as if something inside him screamed that he had seen you before, but he couldn’t quite place you. Years, distance, and the harshness of time had done their work.
You looked down at your cards. You didn’t need to press him. He would get there on his own. And you wanted to see how long it would take.
The first round passed. You played like an expert, without hesitation, withdrawing when necessary and betting just enough to provoke. You didn’t want to win right away. You wanted him to remember you.
In the second round, his gaze returned to the ring. This time, he said nothing. But his jaw tightened.
"Nice pendant." He commented with feigned indifference.
You took it between your fingers and raised it slightly.
"Oh, this? A friend gave it to me many years ago. As a farewell."
And there it was. The slight tremor in his hand as he took the chip. The exact moment his eyes opened just a little wider than usual. As if a rusted door had cracked open in his mind.
"And... did you see him again?" He asked, almost without thinking, as if his own words had surprised him.
You held his gaze for the first time since he sat down across from you. You smiled, softly, but with a hidden edge.
"Not yet."
The air between you thickened. You were no longer just an opponent. You had crossed an invisible line that he still didn’t fully understand, but felt with every cell of his body.
The tension at the table was so thick you could cut it with a card. The laughter had died down. Even the loudest gamblers at the back fell silent, watching as the game turned more personal, more raw.
Last round.
The dealer shuffled once more, at a slower pace. As if even he knew this wasn’t just a game.
You received your cards and looked at them calmly, without changing a hint of your expression. What you held in your hand was enough to take down everyone at the table. But especially him.
Your fingers played with a chip before tossing it into the center.
"I raise the stakes," you said, your voice soft, almost like a poisonous caress.
He looked at you, defiant. His instinct told him not to follow your lead. But something stronger, deeper, pushed him to stay. To find out what that knot in his stomach was, what that buzz on the back of his neck meant.
"I accept," he replied, pushing his chips forward.
And one by one, the other players withdrew. They no longer wanted to face that silent war.
It was just the two of you now.
Face to face. Past against present.
The dealer signaled.
"Cards."
You placed them on the table with a slight flick of your wrist. 38 light. Nearly unbeatable. And you knew he knew it.
He slowly lowered his cards. 18 light.
He lost.
The table went silent.
"Well..." he murmured, staring at the cards as if they had betrayed him. "You’re good... Y/n."
Your smile faded instantly, as if the very air had torn it from your lips.
So, at last… he knew who you were.
"I see you’ve remembered now... Then there’s no reason for me to stay." You murmured coldly, standing just as the dealer packed the money into a metal briefcase and handed it to you with reverence.
Your heels clicked firmly against the marble floor as you headed for the exit, the red dress billowing with each step, like a final provocation.
But you didn’t get far.
A strong hand closed around your wrist, warm, familiar. You stopped dead.
"Y/n... wait." His voice came from behind you, low, trembling. Almost pleading.
You didn’t turn around. You only lowered your head slightly, as if those three letters had weighed too much when they fell on your shoulders.
"No, Dae-gil..." Your voice came out tense, contained, pained. "I’m not in the mood to talk to you. Not after what you did... or rather, what you didn’t do, so many years ago."
He didn’t respond immediately. He gently squeezed your wrist, not hurting you, but not letting you go. As if the mere contact could stop time, as if that would be enough to hold you back.
"Please... listen to me."
You closed your eyes. For a long, bitter second.
You didn’t want to hear him. You didn’t want to feel how his voice stirred everything you had buried with so much effort. But it was useless. Your emotions had awakened the moment you saw him. Since his eyes, even changed, searched for you without knowing.
With a resigned sigh, you turned your face toward him. You looked directly at him, as if your gaze were a judgment.
"To my apartment." You said firmly, raising your finger at him. "But listen carefully, Dae-gil. You’ll only have one chance to explain yourself."
And with that, you let go of his hand, turned around, and began to walk, confident, elegant, pained... but determined.
He followed you without saying a word. As if he knew this was his only chance to reclaim something he didn’t know he had lost… until he saw it hanging from your neck.
The silence in the car was thick, loaded with unspoken words. Only the soft hum of the engine and the persistent beating in your chest accompanied you as you gazed out the window, watching the lights of Seoul pass by like blurry memories.
Dae-gil drove, not daring to break the dense air between you. Not like that boy who once promised to visit you when he grew up. That boy had been gone a long time. What remained in front of you was a man with knuckles marked by life, with a gaze hardened by gambling and a past that chased him.
And you were part of that past.
When the car stopped in front of your building, you grabbed your suitcase without waiting for him to say anything.
"Follow me." you said, without looking at him.
He obeyed silently.
You rode the elevator together. The reflection in the metal walls showed you as two strangers sharing the same fate. Yet the ring hanging around your neck still shone, as if it didn’t recognize the passing of time.
When you reached the door of your apartment, you opened it with confidence. The place was elegant yet understated. Muted colors, a half-empty wine glass on the kitchen bar, and a small photo frame on a shelf, where you, as a child, smiled with a missing tooth, next to a sweet-faced boy: him.
Dae-gil saw it when he entered. He said nothing.
You took off your heels with a sigh of relief and went straight to the bar, pouring yourself a glass. Then you turned toward him, crossing your arms while the red dress still clung to every curve.
"Well, you're here. Speak."
He stood for a few seconds, as if he still didn’t know where to begin. As if he couldn’t piece together what you two once were.
"I didn’t know it was you until I saw the ring." he finally said, his voice low. "That ring… I thought I lost it forever. Just like I lost you."
"You didn’t lose it." you replied with a bitter smile. "You simply forgot. Just like you forgot me."
"I didn’t..." he paused, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn’t that simple. When you left, I tried to find you. Really. But you were just a kid and I… I was nobody. Then, my life became what it is now. Gambling, debts, betrayals... I didn’t allow myself to think about you."
"And now?" you asked sarcastically, slowly moving closer. "Now am I a memory worth remembering?"
He looked at you with narrowed eyes. Not with anger, but with pain.
"Now, you're the only thing I can’t get out of my head since I saw you tonight. And that scares me more than any bet I’ve ever made in my life."
Your eyes softened, just barely.
You moved closer. Close enough for him to see the ring up close. You lifted it between your fingers.
"Do you remember what you told me before giving it to me?"
"That I should open it when I arrived in Japan..." he whispered.
"And that you would come for me." you added, looking at him directly.
The silence returned, laden with regret.
Your fingers slowly let go of the ring, letting it fall against your chest, right in the middle of the cleavage of your red dress. The silence continued to weigh on the air, but you had regained control. That control he thought he had ever since you entered the gambling hall.
You walked to the small coffee table in the living room, crouched gracefully, and pulled a Seotda deck from a discreet drawer. Your movements were feline, calculated, almost theatrical. You turned to look at him, with a half-smile that mixed challenge, mischief… and something darker.
"You know what? Let’s settle this like the adults we are. Our way."
"What do you mean?" Dae-gil asked, slightly furrowing his brow.
You sat on the floor, crossing your legs, and placed the deck in the center of the table. Your eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint.
"Strip Seotda. If you win, I’ll give you a chance. To start over, for whatever you think is still between us."
You paused, letting the air grow thicker between you.
"But if I win… you leave. No questions, no complaints. You disappear from my life forever, just like you did once. Deal?"
He looked at you with surprise. He didn’t seem sure if you were serious… but when he saw you hold his gaze without hesitation, he understood that you weren’t playing. At least not with feelings.
"And the 'strip' part?" he said, half-smiling, with that sly arrogance he was so good at using at the tables.
You shrugged, amused.
"Each round, whoever loses takes something off. Don’t be a coward. After all, you’re the one who wanted to talk to me, right?"
He hesitated for a second. But then he saw the way you held the cards. He recognized it. That confidence, that look that said "I’m going to beat you, even if you think you're invincible." You were just like him. Maybe even worse. And that fired him up.
"Deal." He immediately took off his jacket and sat in front of you. "But don’t underestimate me, Y/n."
"I won’t. I’ve learned from my mistakes."
You shuffled the cards with skill. Both of your eyes met as you split the deck.
The first round began. And as the cards turned and the clothes fell one by one, it wasn’t just the bodies that were undressing… but the emotions, the wounds, the memories that never went away.
The battle had just begun.
The tension had reached its peak.
Clothes scattered on the floor, glances that could no longer be contained, breathing that grew heavier with each round won. The atmosphere was charged, electric. And for the first time in years, you felt the game wasn't just in the cards… but in every touch of fingers, every unspoken word, every glance that burned more than any defeat.
Both of you were left with just enough. He was shirtless, you in your underwear. The ring still hanging around your neck, shining like a beacon of the past.
Last round. All or nothing.
You dealt the cards with a mixture of rage and adrenaline. You looked at yours… good game. But not the best. You looked into his eyes as he looked at yours. And then you knew.
You had lost.
He calmly laid his cards on the table. One hand on his leg, the other arranging the deck of cards as if that didn't already seal your fate.
"You won…" you whispered, your voice barely audible.
"Yes…" he replied, but he didn't sound arrogant. His voice was low, thick with suppressed emotion. "But I'm not here for a victory, Y/n."
He approached slowly, running his hand down your cheek, caressing your jawline as if he still didn't believe you were real. Your lips parted at the warmth of his palm against your skin.
"I'm here because I never stopped thinking about you," he murmured, and without giving you time to respond, his lips crashed against yours.
It was an intense, wild, and desperate kiss, as if he were trying to reclaim everything time had stolen from them. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he leaned over you, gently pushing you down onto the carpeted floor of the apartment.
"Dae-gil…" you whispered between gasps, as his lips moved down your neck, leaving a trail of fire.
"Don't leave again," he said against your skin, like a plea disguised as desire.
Your legs tangled with his, your nails raking his back as he positioned himself over you. Everything you'd repressed for years now surfaced, in muffled moans, shallow breaths, and trembling caresses.
He looked at you once more, his eyes burning with emotion.
"I promised I'd come see you… but I never knew how to find you. I thought you'd disappeared forever. And now you're here…"
"And now I'm here," you said, kissing him hard. "So take me. Make me feel like this wait was worth it."
The temperature in the apartment had risen, not because of the weather, but because of the tension between you. Dae-gil had you cornered against the wall, his bare chest brushing against yours, your breaths mingling. You could feel his racing heartbeat through the contact between your bodies.
His hand slowly moved up your thigh, gliding gently over your skin as if memorizing it, as if every curve and every tremor were sacred. Your lips parted in a sigh as his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear, only to pause, tease, tease you.
"Dae-gil…" you whispered with a tremor of anxiety and desire.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice husky against your ear. "And I will."
But you didn't want him to stop.
Your hands desperately pushed him toward the couch, making him sit down. Then you straddled him, your body pressing against his as your lips found his neck and your hips moved slowly over his, seeking friction, seeking more.
He moaned against your mouth as you kissed him again, deep, hungry. Your fingers tangled in his hair, while his hands caressed your back, your hips, your sides, tracing paths of fire on your skin.
"You don't know how many times I've dreamed about this," he said between kisses. You broke away for just a second to look at him, your eyes shining.
"Then stop dreaming… and touch me like you'd never left."
He lifted you easily, carrying you to the bed. He laid you down gently, as if you were something precious he needed to take care of. Then he settled on top of you, his lips exploring your collarbone, descending with torturous slowness.
Your legs wrapped around him, your body arched beneath his, and in that moment, when you finally joined, it was as if time had stopped. It wasn't just skin against skin. It was history, it was reunion, it was forgiveness.
Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, your lips sought his between gasps, and his movements inside you were slow at first, full of pause, as if he wanted to savor every second. But then, the passion pent up for years erupted like wildfire, and your bodies met again and again, in a wild back-and-forth that overflowed with desire and tenderness.
That night they didn't just make love.
That night they finally found each other.
Taglist: @soshortygirl57 @selenepsyche @raynamorono23 @forevervibezzzz1 @sherrayyyyy @i-might-be-vanny
