#hanwool phi

Minhwan. Leaning casually against the wall like he’d been waiting. That crooked, gleaming smirk cut across his face like a knife, and in his hand, his gun. Waving it around like a toy. “Surprise!” he called, sing-song and delighted. Panic surged. You whipped around, but it was too late, Hanwool had rounded the hallway, eyes locked on you, lips parted like he was tasting the chase. You were cornered.

Adrenaline surged as your eyes scrambled for escape. Your hand shot out and grabbed the nearest doorknob. please please please not be locked and a god you didn’t believe in answered. The door opened with a gasp. You slipped in and slammed it shut, twisting the lock with trembling fingers just as BANG! A fist slammed into the wood behind you.

“You think that lock’s gonna stop me?” Hanwool’s voice was a low snarl. “Open it, and I might leave your legs unbroken.” Another pound. Then another. The door shuddered like it could splinter. Your breath hitched.

You spun, eyes searching the room for something, anything to barricade the door.

There was nothing. Just students tables. Useless. A joke against the two psychopaths waiting outside. You pressed your back to the door, as if your weight alone could keep the monsters out. Another bang. Another scream. Another whisper of metal against metal, like Minhwan running the barrel of the gun along the door frame.

You didn’t know how long the lock would last. But you did know something: They were going to get in and when they did, they won’t hold back.

Your legs couldn’t keep up with the weight of their pounding. Each slam against the door sent a jolt through your spine, a slow collapse spreading from your knees. Your shoes began to slip on the slick tile just the sweat, fear, you couldn’t tell anymore.

And then, it stopped. Just silence, the kind that doesn’t feel like peace, but a warning. Like the world holding its breath before something terrible happens. You held your breath, spine still pinned to the door like your body alone could hold it shut. You didn’t trust it. You didn’t dare trust it.

You heard the footsteps walking away from the door. Like they wanted you to hear it. Like they wanted you to think it was over. Your heart slammed against your ribs, screaming don’t believe it. Every cell in your body buzzed with warning. You stayed pressed against the door, muscles locked, waiting for a sign. Anything. A breath. A shuffle. A shadow under the crack of light. Something to confirm they were still out there. But nothing came.

Five minutes passed, each one stretched thin with dread. Finally, you peeled your back off the wood, slow and careful, like movement alone might trigger something. You stepped away, just a little, just enough to feel your lungs work again. Shaky breaths. Numb limbs. You were calming down, but only in pieces.

Your eyes didn’t leave the door. You waited. Expected it to burst open at any second, both of them tumbling through with a grinning Hanwool and Minhwan dragging his stupid little gun. But still, nothing. Maybe they got distracted. Maybe whatever Gamin was doing downstairs finally pulled their attention. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? The only reason you were even in this school after hours.

But thinking about Hanwool, the shit he was doing inside these walls and the way the school board pretended none of it existed. It made your stomach twist. That’s why you joined Gamin’s study group. Why you agreed to be part of his plan. All you had to do was distract Seonho. Just a simple diversion. But somehow, some way, you got the wrong person’s attention. Hanwool. And his fucking sidekick.

Your legs moved before your brain could catch up. Instinct took over, raw and breathless. You pressed your ear to the door, straining for a sound, a whisper, anything that would tell you what waited on the other side. Nothing. The silence felt stretched too thin, like skin ready to tear. You exhaled, slow and trembling, and curled your fingers around the knob. The door creaked open just a sliver. You leaned forward and peeked out, your heart punching the inside of your chest.

Empty. The hallway stared back at you, blank and cold. No footsteps. No shadows. No one. You didn’t think. You ran. Feet slapping the tile, breath snagging in your throat like barbed wire. You barely made it ten steps before something yanked you backward so hard your neck cracked. A hand in your hair. Tight. And his voice, soft and too close to your ear. "Thought you could leave without saying goodbye?"

Hanwool’s voice cut through the silence like glass shattering in the not so empty hallway. Just sharp, sudden, and impossible to ignore. You flinched at the sound, every muscle in your body locking into place. Then came Minhwan. Whistling. Casual and off-key, like he wasn’t the type to hold a gun, like this was just another game he already knew he’d win. He circled around you slowly, steps lazy, eyes gleaming with that sick amusement he wore like perfume.

The cold metal pressed under your chin. He tilted your head up with the barrel, forcing your eyes to meet his. His smirk widened when he saw the fear. “That’s better,” he murmured, voice smooth like poison. “You should’ve just stayed put.”

Behind him, Hanwool watched without blinking. No rage. No mockery. Just that terrifying calm he wore when he was deciding how much pain to hand out. The kind of calm that came right before someone stopped being a person and became a problem to solve and you couldn’t breathe. Because this wasn’t about a warning anymore. It was punishment.

"Let’s head back to class," Hanwool said, voice soft, almost coaxing. You didn’t move. You weren’t walking into that room with those two psychopaths. You weren’t playing their game. In a single breath, you twisted.

Your elbow slammed into Hanwool’s gut, and as he staggered back a step, you swung a punch into Minhwan’s jaw. His head snapped to the side, and he collapsed with a grunt. You turned to run.

But Hanwool recovered too fast. His hand lashed out, fingers grazing your arm, trying to catch you like a spider pulling its web tight. You jerked away, body coiled with adrenaline. Minhwan, still on the floor, snarled. "Where the fuck do you think you’re going?"

His hand shot out and grabbed your ankle. You hit the floor hard. Your ribs knocked the breath from your lungs, and before you could crawl away, he was dragging you back. You twisted and kicked, your foot connected with his face. A sick crack followed. Blood poured from his nose as he screamed. "You bitch!"

His grip loosened. He tried to get up, but he was dazed. You scrambled forward until something heavy landed in the middle of your back. A boot. Pressed hard. Forcing you into the cold, filthy floor.

"Tsk, tsk, love," Hanwool murmured, his weight pinning you down. "Thought you could get away?" You thrashed beneath him, teeth clenched, but it was useless. "You can’t," he whispered into your hair. His breath was hot against your scalp. "You were never going to." Minhwan staggered up behind you, wiping at his bleeding face, gun back in his hand. His expression was pure venom.

"She fucking broke my nose," he spat. "That was a wrong fucking move." Hanwool yanked you upright by your hair so hard your vision went white at the edges. You couldn’t even scream. He twisted you to face Minhwan, who raised the gun, the metal flashing under the hallway lights. Then he brought the barrel down.

It smashed into your cheek with a wet, blunt crack. Your head whipped to the side. Blood dripped from your nose, warm and steady. The hallway spun. “Still think you’re going anywhere?” Minhwan sneered, breath thick with rage.

Hanwool gripped your arm like it belonged to him. His fingers dug into your skin, bruising on contact. You kicked and twisted, but it only made him more amused. “Keep struggling. Makes it more fun,” he said, voice low and flat, like he was bored and entertained at the same time. You clawed at his arm, at the walls, at the air. None of it mattered. 

He dragged you down the hallway, your shoes squealing against the tile, back toward the classroom. The one that had been your safe haven. Your hiding place. And when he opened the door and flung you inside, that illusion shattered. You hit the floor hard, palms burning against the cold linoleum. The door slammed shut. You heard the click of the lock. Hanwool. Minhwan. You. No way out.

You scrambled to your feet. “Stay the hell away from me,” you said, but your voice cracked halfway through. Minhwan laughed, wiping dried blood from under his nose. “Still got fight in her,” he said, tossing the gun back and forth between his hands like a toy. “You’re lucky I don’t break your jaw.”

“You already tried,” you spat. “Didn’t even knock me out.” He lunged. You dodged, barely, and shoved over a desk to block him. It crashed to the floor between you with a bang that echoed through the empty building. Hanwool stepped forward. He didn’t rush. That was what made it worse. You threw a chair at him. He caught it. Like it was nothing.

Minhwan moved first. He jumped the desk, grabbing your wrist. You drove your knee into his stomach, twisting to break free, but Hanwool was already behind you. His hand wrapped around your neck not tight enough to choke, but enough to control.

“You should’ve stayed quiet,” he said. His breath brushed your ear. “Should’ve been a good girl. But no... you wanted to play hero.” You elbowed him again. This time, he grunted and stepped back. You turned, fists up, blood smeared across your face, heart thudding like it wanted out of your chest. “You gonna hurt me?” you said, breathless. Hanwool smiled. Not wide. Just enough to show his teeth. “No,” he said. “Not yet.”

Minhwan circled you like a predator, slow and pacing, jaw clenched. “Gamin’s downstairs, right? Think he’s gonna save you?” “You idiots are gonna regret this,” you said, though your voice was shaking now. “He’s coming.” Minhwan chuckled. “Then we better hurry.” Hanwool nodded. “Let’s begin.”

You didn’t wait. As soon as Hanwool’s voice cut the air “Let’s begin” you moved. You lunged at Minhwan first. He was closer. You caught him off-guard with a punch to the side of his face. His head snapped to the left and he stumbled into a desk, cursing through gritted teeth.

Then you turned on Hanwool, blood rushing in your ears. You swung once, twice but he stepped back just enough to avoid both. He was watching you like a wolf letting its prey wear itself out. “You done?” he asked, voice quiet and unreadable. You didn’t answer. You ran at him, fists clenched, rage blind.

That was your mistake. He caught your arm mid-swing. His fingers closed around your wrist like a vice. Then, without even blinking, he twisted. You screamed. A sharp, raw sound that cracked the air. Your wrist bent at an angle it wasn’t meant to. Pain flooded your body, hot and instant, like fire under your skin.

You dropped to one knee, cradling your arm. “Looks broken,” Hanwool said calmly. “You’ll have trouble writing after this. Shame.” Minhwan recovered behind you. He was bleeding again lip split, nose leaking but the smile he wore now was ugly with satisfaction.

“You’re scrappy, I’ll give you that,” he said, wiping his mouth. “But scrappy doesn’t mean strong.” You tried to get up, teeth clenched against the pain, but Hanwool shoved you backward. You crashed against a desk, your broken wrist slamming the edge. You saw white for a second. Then everything pulsed black.

“Thought you’d be smarter,” Minhwan said, kicking the chair beside you out of his way. “You think your lover boy is coming to save you.” Hanwool leaned over you, eyes unreadable. “Is this the part where you start begging?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” you gasped, holding back tears, holding back everything. He knelt beside you, tilting his head like he was studying something. “You should be.” Then he backhanded you once, sharp and fast. Your head snapped sideways. You tasted blood in your mouth.

“I warned you,” Hanwool said, standing again. “This didn’t have to be personal but you made it personal. Running your mouth.” You tried again to stand. 

Hanwool loomed over you, his shadow swallowing you whole as he pushed you down, the impact jarring your bones. His lips curled into a cruel smile, eyes glinting with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist.

"Well," he mused, fingers toying with his belt buckle, the click of it unfastening too loud in the suffocating silence. "Look at you, right where you belong. Now, let’s see if that mouth can do something worthwhile." Your breath hitched, panic clawing up your throat. "Hanwool—please, don’t—"

Minhwan’s laughter cut through your begging, sharp and mocking. He righted the chair he had kicked over and dropped into it, leaning forward with predatory interest. "Oh? The begging’s started already?" His grin widened, all teeth. "This is gonna be fun."

You lunged, teeth bared, aiming for Hanwool’s wrist but Minhwan moved faster. A fist tangled in your hair, yanking you back so hard your scalp burned. His lips grazed your cheek, breath hot and sickly sweet against your skin. "Ah, ah," he tutted. "None of that."

Hanwool’s fingers traced your jaw, tilting your face up. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip, smearing the blood from your nose. "Open." The command slithered down your spine, icy and inescapable.

Your mouth opened, trying to make this easier, even though it only made the tears well faster.  "Good," Hanwool murmured, as the world narrowed to the gleam in his eyes and the weight of his touch. "Now let’s see how good that mouth really is."

His length pressed against your tongue, the rhythm brutal as he set a punishing pace, his words slicing through the moment. "Yeah, that’s it. Take it. Choke on it, pretty bitch. That’s what you’re good for, huh? All that attitude, and this is where you belong on your knees, drooling all over me."

Minhwan’s hand, still twisted in your hair, yanked your head back slightly, just enough to control the angle. "So fucking messy already. Look at you." His free hand drifted down, trailing over your shoulder, sliding under your shirt, knuckles grazing your skin like he owned it.

He inhaled deeply, his nose buried in your hair. "You smell so fucking sweet like this. Like fear." His hand slipped lower, popping open the buttons of your skirt, sliding it up with infuriating slowness until it bunched around your hips. "Don’t stop," Hanwool growled above you, his grip tightening on your jaw as he fucked your throat harder, watching the tears spill down your cheeks.

Minhwan dragged the cool barrel of his gun across your stomach, then higher, the metal tracing lazy circles around your ribs, up to the swell of your breasts. He flicked the tip across one nipple through the thin fabric, the contrast of cold steel and heat making you shudder. "Sensitive, huh? Fuck, you’re just made for this," he whispered in your ear, his voice dripping with mockery as the gun slid lower, trailing down your abdomen, stopping at the damp heat between your thighs.

He pressed the barrel against your clothed clit, grinding it in slow, deliberate circles. "Look how wet you are. Acting like you don’t want this, but this cunt is telling me the truth." He laughed, soft, mean. "You love this, don’t you? Love being our little toy."

Hanwool’s pace stuttered, a growl rumbling in his chest. "Bet she’s gonna come just from this. Aren’t you? Gonna make a mess all over Minhwan’s gun while choking on my cock?" Minhwan licked the shell of your ear, his hand pressing the barrel harder against your throbbing clit.

Minhwan’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, his breath hot against your ear as he tore them away with a sharp, careless rip. The fabric gave way too easily. His laughter was low, dark, curling around you like smoke.

"Look at that," he murmured, dragging the barrel of the gun down, tracing the slickness between your thighs. "Already dripping for us. Pathetic." You flinched as the cold metal pressed against your entrance, the contrast of steel and heat making your muscles clench instinctively. Minhwan tutted, gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "None of that," he warned, before pushing the gun inside with one brutal thrust.

The stretch burned but he didn’t stop, didn’t let you adjust. Just buried it deeper, his fingers tightening in your hair as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear. "Fuck, you take it so well. Like you were made for this."

Hanwool’s grip on your jaw tightened, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every snap of his hips. "She’s gagging," he mused, voice rough with pleasure. "But she’s still sucking me like she needs it. Look at her, Minhwan. Look at how fucking ruined she is."

Minhwan pulled the gun out slowly, just to shove it back in, the rhythm cruel. The ridges of the barrel dragged against your walls, the cold metal warming with your body’s betrayal. "You feel that?" he whispered, twisting it just to hear you whimper. "That’s what happens when you act like you’re too good for us."

Hanwool’s breath became rougher. "Gonna come down her throat while you fuck her with that," he gritted out. Hanwool’s thrusts grew erratic, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "Gonna come down this pretty throat," he growled. "And you’re gonna swallow every drop, aren’t you?" 

Minhwan’s free hand slid around your waist, pressing the gun deeper as his other hand yanked your head back by your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were black with something hungry, something vicious. "And when he’s done," he murmured, "I’m gonna make you come on this gun. Gonna make you scream while you do it."

The barrel twisted inside you, hitting a spot that made your vision blur. Somewhere, Hanwool was groaning. Somewhere, Minhwan was laughing.  You were falling apart between them, their names like a prayer and a curse on your lips. 

The air was thick with the scent of sweat, salt, and something darker like cruelty given flesh. Hanwool’s breath came in ragged bursts as he forced himself deeper down your throat. His hips stuttered, his voice a rough growl against the damp silence of the classroom.

"That’s it," he gritted out, "take it. All of it." You choked, tears burning hot tracks down your cheeks, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. His grip tightened, his other hand digging into the hinge of your jaw, holding you open as he groaned, low and filthy. "Gonna come down this pretty throat, take it" he snarled. And you did. Because you had no choice.

Minhwan watched, his dark eyes gleaming with something feral as he pressed the gun deeper inside you, the cold metal a brutal contrast to the heat of your own body. "Good girl," he purred, thumb swiping over your bottom lip, smearing spit and tears. "Now let’s see you come for me."

The barrel twisted, hitting a spot that made your vision splinter. A broken sound tore from your throat, half-sob, half-scream, as your body betrayed you, shuddering around the unforgiving steel. Minhwan’s laugh was soft, almost tender, as he slowly pulled the gun free. He brought it to his lips, tongue flicking over the glistening metal, his eyes never leaving yours. "Tastes like victory," he mused. "Or maybe just desperation."

Hanwool finally pulled out of your mouth with a wet sound, his hand patting your cheek too hard to be affectionate. "Next time," he said, voice dripping with false sweetness, "pick the winning team."

Minhwan stood, putting the gun away with a smirk. "Yeah. Might save you the broken wrist." Your injured hand throbbed in time with your heartbeat, useless at your side. They left you there, a wrecked, trembling mess on the classroom floor, their laughter echoing down the hall like a promise. This wasn’t over.

But for now, you were just another casualty in their game. And you did. Because you had no choice.