Skz Hard Thoughts - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

OHHHH MYYYY GODDDDD this is the perfect mix of sweet sour and spicy!!!

ALIEN — [18+!]

“Remember… you’re my girlfriend,” he whispers into your ear.

It lets shivers run down your spine.

God, how you wished he said that in a real context to you.

👽 SYNOPSIS: Spawned at the age of thirteen—on his mission as a spy on planet earth—Jisung is made to build a bond with a human, quickly developing a tie of friendship and trust. On his 25th birthday, he is supposed to bring said creature to his home. But there’s a problem—by now, he has fallen hopelessly in love with you and there’s only one way to escape the awful mission: you need to return those hopeless feelings.

💭 CONTENT INFO: jisung x afab reader, alien/demon jisung, human reader, childhood friends to lovers, fake dating au, angst/smut/fluff, dark romance, mutual pining (they are dumb idiots), demisexual reader, there’s only one bed, perv jisung but reader isn’t any better lmao, based on the meme of jisung “spawning” as a teenager and a dream about an alien abduction I had in 2020, also a huge thank you @ lotus for inspiring + encouraging me to continue working on this story so make sure to check out her fic otherwordly, warnings and smut tags under the cut

🫧 WORD COUNT: 10.9K

🛸 CONTENT WARNING: (heavier topics since it’s dark romance, also contains spoilers) kidnapping, alien abduction to experiment on humans, demon powers, mention of death threats, pervy behaviour (panty stealing)

⛓️ SMUT: dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, mind reading (consensual), slight bondage, praise kink, marking, slight spit play, creampie, name calling (baby, angel, good girl, love, slut, whore)

The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nswf content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.

Three hours

“Sometimes I feel as if I don’t belong in this world.”

Jisung’s hand comes to a halt, stopping the motion on your head for a second. Your hair feels so soft colliding with his skin.

“Do you know that feeling, Sungie?”

He chuckles. Out of embarrassment. Nervousness. You name it.

“What do you mean?”

You get up from your position—your head in his lap—now, taking the seat next to him on the sofa instead.

“You know… like an alien almost.”

He believes his heart suddenly stops. 

“No,” Jisung exhales, “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

Suddenly, you scoot a little closer again and by now your best friend believes you will actually be able to listen to his pounding heart, basically pumping through his sweater. He looks adorable like this. It was a great idea to hide all the scissors in your shared apartment and Jisung is simply both too lazy and too introverted to make an appointment at a hairdresser which works quite well for your advantages.

But not for his.

Especially, when you once again look at him like this before bringing your hand to his head, disheveling the strands. His hair is even softer than that innocent look on his face—which is surprising for two reasons.

First, Jisung practically killed his hair by an endless cycle of bleaching and dyeing it black and bleaching it again in a way too short span of time, sending any hairstylist into cardiac arrest. But it’s still beautiful and not as fried as you would have expected it to be.

Second—and this is the part that you are unaware of—Jisung is anything but innocent. Quite frankly, he’s basically the polar opposite of that term.

Not by choice, though.

He’s a victim of his own destiny after all.

“You’re a nerd, a fucking weirdo like me, Sung. You can’t tell me you’ve never felt like an outsider,” you tell him with a smirk, nudging his shoulder in the process.

But he doesn’t really react the way he usually does.

Something seems to be off today. Strangely off. 

“You said alien, not outsider,” he says, keeping his gaze on the show that is playing on the bright screen in front of him.

You catch the remote in your hand, turning off the TV.

That’s when Jisung looks at you. But mostly because he’s pissed off that you’re switching his focus on the conversation now.

He doesn’t want to talk to you about this. Not now.

Any other day would have been fine but he gets even more nauseous thinking about the consequences of the clock reaching midnight will have.

“I meant the same,” you continue. You take a sip from your lemonade, before placing the bright pink strawberry beverage back on the table in front of you. “Don’t put too much thought into what words I choose to describe similar things.”

You can see Jisung rolling his eyes. His arms are crossed in front of his chest—his very much muscular chest that he’s hiding under the thick sweater. The fact he’s been hitting the gym regularly again these past weeks makes you almost start drooling at the thought right here. 

Yeah. That’s the other issue.

You don't only find your roommate and best friend absolutely attractive but also have a massive crush on him.

Something tells you that he feels the same. You suppose, at least, judging from the way he looks at you when he believes you don't notice. 

Or the fact he always buys that strawberry-kiwi flavoured lemonade for you from the convenience store right across the street.

Or how he always makes sure you drink enough water besides that, eat your meals, get enough sleep—including cuddles with him whenever another one of those awful nightmares is haunting you.

Jisung makes dinner—aka instant ramen—for you whenever you’re too exhausted after work.

He encourages you to make appointments at doctor’s offices that are long overdue.

He holds your hand when you cry, he holds your hand when you laugh.

Jisung picks up dandelions he sees on his way home, knowing they are your favourite flowers.

I don’t care that they are considered to be weeds. They can grow anywhere, no matter the surroundings. They don’t give a shit and I love that, you’d always explain. And the way they shapeshift, not caring what others think.

Your best friend takes care of the apartment whenever you’re too tired—although he’s the most chaotic person you know.

He does the laundry, even separating the colours—yeah, unbelievable, considering he’s a man!

Speaking of laundry.

That’s where another, darker hint of him possibly having a crush on you comes into play.

You believe it started a few years ago, some time during college, but it has happened more frequently the past few months.

It’s not a big deal, you know that washing machines sometimes swallow socks and other smaller, thinner stuff.

But it can’t be a coincidence that a lot of your panties go missing, can it? Or that they take a lot longer to be washed than other pieces of clothing, right?

Especially those tighter, prettier ones. The ones that are reserved for special occasions that, well, don’t really happen but they still make you feel absolutely attractive wearing them from time to time.

Just a couple of days ago—while doing the laundry this time—you went into Jisung’s room to grab his dirty clothes from his hamper and found three or four of your worn panties hidden between his sweaters and jeans.

In addition to that, some of them were possibly a bit different than how you remembered them to look like when you discarded them—now decorated in… well… his cum.

If it was anyone else, you’d be disgusted and it perhaps sounds problematic to an outside person but since you trust him so much, you don’t care.

You feel embarrassed to admit it but for some reason you feel flustered and may have, possibly, thought about him coating your used underwear in his juices while you were inches deep in your cunt with your own fingers.

Maybe. Just maybe.

However, that’s why you want him to make the first move. You want to know that he’s serious about it before you confess anything and either those accusations are wrong or he’s just generally… weird. Pervy. Whatever.

Or doesn’t want anything serious. Which is very reasonable.

But you’re not up for casual sex, never have been. You don’t judge people craving intimacy without a special bond but after trying it some time in college, you decided you live better with meaningful encounters.

Well. Those encounters have been non-existent for some years. To be specific—since you realised how much in love you are with your weirdo roommate.

“Can we just go on with the movie?”

Right. You’re still here with him.

God it’s fucking embarrassing that those little thoughts have your heart running a marathon and you intuitively pressing your thighs together.

But Jisung doesn’t notice.

“Yeah, you are weird. Weirder than me,” you reply.

Jisung doesn’t say anything but you’re not waiting for a reaction. He’s probably stressed from all the work. His new job has been sucking all the light and life out of his soul, almost turning him into a career demon.

Since you feel bad about that, you decide to grab the remote, continuing the movie.

You can practically feel the anxiety that is shooting out of his body, filling the whole living room in a tense atmosphere.

You’ve probably gone too far. Fuck.

“Sungie?”

He sighs, since he’s not really in the mood for any more questions from you today. He just wants to get this over with. “Yeah?”

You hear the annoyance, the constant stress that is crawling under his skin and how it’s reflected in his quiet voice. So, you make sure to be extra sensitive.

“I’m glad you’re here with me. I’m sorry if my words hurt you. I just wanted to tell you how comfortable and safe I feel around you since you never judge me for being… different.”

Fuck.

This just makes him feel even more horrible.

You probably won’t think that way anymore once the clock strikes midnight.

“I’m… I’m very glad to have you, too, Y/N.”

His heart aches.

He’s definitely the worst living being in this whole universe.

Thirty minutes

You’ve fallen into a deep slumber but Jisung doesn’t care. It’s quite the opposite. There’s nothing better on this planet than having you snuggled up in his lap, your quiet and peaceful little breaths filling the room.

You trust him with your whole heart. Whatever it is—you’ll always feel comfortable around him. He’s your anchor when the floods are dragging you away from the shore right into the deep ocean.

What a shame he will destroy everything in less than half an hour.

All those years.

Those years of trust. 

Of familiarity.

Of friendship.

Of something that could have become love, perhaps.

Jisung doesn’t need to worry anymore if you return his silly little feelings. Not if he’s the one to demolish that tight bond in the next hour.

He hears a vibrating sound coming from next to his seat on the couch. His eyes switch to his second phone, screen lightening up in the dark living room.

[Boss 23:32]: The ropes and chains and all you need are in the box we sent you. Any more questions?

He could burst out into tears at the spot. But Jisung will have enough opportunities to cry out his heart later.

He hates this.

He hates everything and everyone.

This whole universe is a shitshow for throwing him into a destiny like this.

Although he’s asked his evil boss a thousand times, Jisung won’t give up. He loves you too much for this. There has to be some type of escape.

So, he types, trying again.

[Jisung 23:34]: Can’t I just ask her to come with me?

He sees the three little dots appear and his heart might as well just rip his chest open.

Another message pops up, making his head all dizzy.

[Boss 23:34]: No. That is too risky. It has to be kidnapping just to make sure she really tags along.

Fuck.

There’s no way around this horrifying situation.

Twenty five minutes.

Twenty four minutes and fifty nine seconds.

Twenty four minutes and fifty eight seconds.

You suddenly stir around in your sleep, as you adjust your position to lay on your back and still very much on Jisung’s lap.

Your beautiful eyes open a little, just as much as they manage to do in this sleepy state and enough for you to see your best friend above you.

“Sung?”

God. His heart is built up again just to break into a tiny thousand splinters another time.

He will lose you.

If it’s not for you turning against him—which would be more than understandable—he will at least lose you to those evil bosses that have made gruesome plans with you as the main character.

And Jisung happens to be the deliverer.

“Y-You’re still awake?” you ask in your sleepy state.

Your best friend places a strand of your hair behind your ear, softly grazing over your cheek—one last time.

“Yeah, baby,” Jisung softly hums, “you fell asleep. It’s almost midnight. ‘M gonna bring you to bed, okay?”

You blink a few times, propping yourself up.

“Hm? W-What about your birthday, Sungie?”

Even in a situation like this, Jisung is all you care and think about.

“My birthday will be twenty four hours long, we’ll have enough time after sleeping,” he assures you, before he picks you up.

You fall asleep in his arms, as he carries you bridal style to your room. Luckily, you’re already in your—unfortunately very skimpy—pyjamas, so Jisung only has to tuck you under the covers and lay your little plush quokka next to you. His name is Peter. Jisung gave it to you as a present on your birthday last year.

He watches you another minute, saying goodbye to the peaceful atmosphere before it’ll vanish away.

Although you’re already deep in your slumber, you still witness your best friend placing the sweetest kiss on your cheek, before he leaves your room.

Three minutes

The door creaks open again a little later and Jisung curses himself for the noise.

Unfortunately, you notice the little sound, as you wake up and change in a seating position in your bed.

“Sung? Is it your birthday yet?” you ask, when you make out his silhouette in the distance.

“No, no,” he says, as he approaches you. You can tell by the increasing volume in his soft voice.

So soft.

So opposite to what he’s about to you.

Jisung is carrying all the supplies behind him.

In a box there’s enough chains, ropes and tapes to keep you quiet.

But he can’t do it to you.

At least not like that.

He can’t physically harm you when he already isn’t able to avert the mental hurt.

“Why are you here then? Can’t sleep? We can cuddle,” you offer.

Jisung is about to get nauseous. Fuck. This is the worst day ever.

But he can’t do anything against it. He can only try to ease the situation a little.

Well, but how do you make a kidnapping attempt comfortable for the victim?

“Don’t worry about me, baby,” Jisung says, when he reaches the edge of your bed. “Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You fall down on your back again.

“Alright… good night.”

Jisung feels bad for thinking that the position you're in enlightens two thoughts he shouldn’t have.

First, you look absolutely alluring like this. Your shorts have ridden up a bit, putting your thighs on full display for him. It’s a beautiful picture—one that lets his mind wander to the idea of having you under him, watching you drool in anticipation as you beg Jisung to kiss you, to touch you, to fuck you.

Second, you’re making it a little too easy for him to fulfill his awful mission. It’ll be anything but complicated to tie your wrists and feet together, shut your mouth with some tape to throw you over his shoulder.

There’s just one small issue.

Jisung will not be able to do this while you notice anything.

He can’t do that to you. He can’t traumatise you even more.

In all of his twelve years on this planet, Jisung has never used his demon powers against people that he loves.

Well, there’s a first for everything.

👽

You wake up on the backseat of a car. The windows are darkened, making it impossible to get even a glimpse of your surroundings. 

It’s insane how fast your heart is beating and how much trouble you have getting oxygen into your lungs—mostly caused by the utmost panic that is washing over you and the restraints around your hands, arms and legs aren’t making it any easier.

You figure out that the kidnapper forgot one important thing—he didn’t cover your mouth.

However, it still takes you at least five minutes, as you listen to the sound of the engine and a song on repeat with the title Driving Nowhere thundering from the speakers, to regain power over your voice.

“Sorry– uhm– w-who are you… why am I h-here?”

He doesn’t want to talk back. But the tears are stinging in his eyes when he hears the fear in your broken words.

How could he have done this to you?

He is your best friend. The person you’re the closest with, that means the most to him. He would literally kill for you.

And now he’s hurting you instead?

Well, it’s not as if he’s ever had the choice.

That was his destiny from the beginning.

Who would have thought he would first befriend his victim and then hopelessly fall in love with them?

Jisung is the worst demon to ever exist.

But he’s never wanted this life anyway.

Maybe he can somehow justify kidnapping you once he explains that the only other alternative would have been that both your lives end here. To be fair—that isn’t really an option.

“Y/N…” he decides to call out your name. He can’t lie to you. He’s been crying about this since the car ride, that’s supposed to bring you to the portal, started an hour ago.

When the sound of his voice enters your ears, your breath hitches.

What on earth is going on?

Does this have something to do with his birthday?

It could be. But why are you restricted by ropes and chains then?

“Sungie?” your voice is so small, almost inaudible, but he still catches that sweet but terrified melody.

“I’m… sorry…”

You break out into laughter then. More like a scoff. You don’t know what to say or do.

Maybe it’s a dream. You’ve been having a bunch of weird ones these past weeks.

But something tells you it’s not. Something tells you this is reality.

“So you’re… kidnapping me?” you decide to just ask him.

“I… am. Yeah.”

He’s not even denying it?

Is this one of those little fantasies he has?

Jisung doesn’t know about it but some time ago you accidentally scrolled through his browser history when you were borrowing his computer for a work project, finding a collection of ebooks, mangas and animes all including darker genres.

There was also some adult content revolving around helplessness, hypnosis and bondage as well. It wasn’t anything too alarming, all in a consensual context but putting two and two together it’s absolutely weird now.

And, yes. You watched those videos. Of course, only for scientific purposes. Although, you may have discovered some unknown kinks of yours in the process.

However, there’s a difference between having a fantasy about something and actually doing it.

“Jesus Christ, I told you to stop consuming those weird books and shows about demons and God knows what. It seriously fucks with your brain.”

Jisung thinks his body paralyses. It’s a miracle that he can still keep his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel.

You’re sure there’s an explanation behind this.

You trust your best friend too much to believe he’s been leading you on for the past twelve years to then grab you and bring you somewhere unknown. It’s obvious that he hides some secret identity—maybe he’s a spy or working for secret services and can’t tell you more and therefore has to kidnap you to bring you along to his next mission.

Jisung has been behaving suspiciously his whole life, you’ve always thought it’s funny. Especially since he seems to not grasp that you’re aware of it.

Of course, it’s fucking toxic nonetheless. It doesn’t matter if his intentions are pure, he’s scared you for life.

So, the only logical consequence is to tease him as well.

With your own weapons.

“Besides that,” you start again, “if you wanted to fuck me, you could have just told me.”

The car comes to a halt when he suddenly hits the breaks. Jisung can be glad no one is driving behind you around that hour since he would have otherwise caused an accident.

“W-What?” he asks.

“Just kidding,” you say. “I’ll go back to sleep, wake me up once we’re at our destination.”

Jisung gulps. So loud that you must have heard it.

Maybe that’s why you open your eyes again, before you start speaking, “Also, before I forget it…”

He looks at your reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Huh?”

You click your tongue.

“Happy birthday, you weirdo.”

👽 

It’s a miracle but you actually manage to fall asleep again.

Well, you did. But before you were able to wake up, Jisung used his demon powers again to make sure it stays this way.

That’s how he manages to guide you through the portal unscathed and he’s so fucking glad about it, he’s close to tears again.

You’re only waking up a little while later, sitting on a bench next to none other than your best friend who's holding you in his arms. The restraints around your wrists and ankles are gone but you can still sense the tight feeling around them, no matter how careful Jisung was with you.

“Where am I?” you blurt out, hastily turning your head around, taking in your surroundings.

“Safe with me, I-I promise,” Jisung says.

The air tastes weird around here. You’re sure you’re inside a building but oxygen seems pure, as if you’re inhaling molecules at the beach—one that is far from any type of civilization. All natural.

People seem to be generally smaller here, Jisung being amongst the tallest.

Weird. You really can’t figure out which country you’re in.

You have a distant memory of the car ride earlier but what happened after that is wiped out. You suppose that Jisung brought you here, possibly by plane.

Earth seems to turn around faster, making you dizzy. Maybe you’re closer to the equator which would explain the intense speed.

But that shouldn’t be that much of a difference, right?

It’s almost as if you can feel the rotation of the massive rock that gravity glues you to spinning around.

Speaking of gravity—from time to time it’s almost as if a force is pulling you to the ground. Not strong enough for you to actually land on the floor, but you still feel it.

It’s all so… weird.

You seriously don’t know how else to word it.

But Jisung is here with you.

As ridiculous as it sounds, you feel safe with Jisung. Here in his arms. His warm breath tingles your skin whenever he pulls you closer.

You noticed the tears in his eyes minutes ago and maybe they are enough to tell you he didn’t want this oddinary situation either.

“I believe you,” you tell him.

His head snaps towards your face, as he stares at you in disbelief.

“Really?”

Well, even if you wouldn’t—it’s not like you have a choice anyway. You’re completely relying on him.

“I do. So, could you please explain to me what the fuck is going on?”

He gulps, then he nods and a few more tears spill from his beautiful dark brown eyes. God. They’ve always amazed and almost hypnotised you to some extent.

“Y-Yeah,” he hesitantly begins, “it’s gonna sound dumb and weird but please bear with me.”

When you nod, Jisung gains enough confidence to start explaining.

“We’re not on planet Earth but on an earth-like planet called ITEM 180325—yes, the name is dumb, humans chose that years ago—that is also part of our solar system.”

He watches your confused expression. You’re caught in a bad movie, you’re sure. But the first thing that comes to your mind is something else.

“Wait– isn’t our solar system made of Venus, Mars, Saturn and others?”

Jisung nods, “Yeah. ITEM 180325 is just a dwarf planet, even further away than Pluto and for some reason, humans on earth haven’t realised yet that there's oxygen and water and such here. There’s the theory that… we originated from earth, that ITEM collided with it or split apart from it years ago. I-It’s the planet where I am actually from.”

Your mouth falls agape. “What?!”

Jisung is not… human?

Your best friend chuckles, “I know, it sounds absolutely ridiculous. But it’s the truth. It explains why the habitants here look human-like, just smaller which is caused by the gravity that’s a lot more intense here.”

“And I’ve always thought you’re just not tall,” you say.

“Oh, I am tall here,” Jisung says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, earning a small nudge from you.

“Anyway, tell me more, Ji.”

He looks around, making sure no one listens to what you say. After all, the inhabitans of ITEM have mastered their skills in almost every language that is spoken on earth.

If you thought humans were great scientists and astronomers, you haven’t met ITEM’s people before. They’re much more advanced in anything technological, basically a thousand levels and years ahead.

That also explains what follows next.

He nods, “I’ve been a spy on planet earth since I was thirteen and, well, this will sound pretty bad but my main mission was to bring you here on my 25th birthday.”

You look at him with big eyes and Jisung takes one last deep breath, before he announces the worst part of this all.

“Please know that I didn’t h-have any choice to make. They threatened to k-kill both of us if I didn’t o-obey–“

“I believe you,” you cut him off.

But he instantly wents on with his rambling.

“They recruit humans h-here for… experiments. I don’t know exactly what they do but rumours say that it’s pretty bizarre and crucial. T-That’s why we’re here but– I already have a plan B how we will escape so please don’t–“

“Okay. I trust you,” you reassure him.

That’s when your words register.

You… trust him?

Seriously?

Never ever in this world he would have expected you to not detest him after what he did to you.

“Wow… I thought you would hate me after this.”

You understand him. You’ve always been an empath and you get that there was no other possibility than this.

And besides that…

He’s still Jisung.

Your Jisung.

Your best friend. Your other half. The person you trust the most in this world.

“I could never hate you.”

It’s the most inconvenient situation but you can’t control it. Your gaze flickers down to Jisung lips. God, those beautiful lips. How often you dreamt about laying your own on them…

And he notices you staring at him, as the thinnest layer of pink appears on his squishy cheeks.

But you can’t kiss him. Not here. Not now.

You still have so many questions and when the ideas start running around, doing parkour in your head, you just start speaking.

“Ji, is that… why you don’t have any… family?”

He instantly knows what you’re referring to.

Right. His alien identity.

You both still have to get used to the secret being revealed now.

“Yeah. I have relatives here but they… abandoned me. That’s why the government assigned me this horrible mission. I indeed spawned at the age of thirteen on Earth.”

You think back to how you two first met.

Eighth grade, a warm morning in early September. His tanned skin was glittering so beautifully in the autumn sun.

Jisung told you right from the start that he’s been living in an orphanage but he never seemed sad about it. It all makes sense now.

You can’t miss something that you’re not aware of.

Besides that, the love and trust he got from you and your relatives has always been enough to feed his heart.

His smile proves that he must be thinking about the same fond memories right now, you can tell—almost as if you’re communicating without any words.

“Han Jisung, Y/LN Y/N.”

A voice suddenly erupts from right beside you. It comes from a man wearing a name tag that says The President’s right hand man.

“Your appointment with the president is next.”

The man disappears again, leaving your best friend and you alone in the corridor, still sitting close together on the bench.

That’s when you see Jisung’s mood has suddenly shifted. It did a one hundred and eighty degree turn.

Fear. All over his face. You can practically feel it with your own heart.

He realises now that this might be over soon.

Fuck.

He hates himself now for never making a move on you.

Jisung could have spend hours, days, months and years kissing and loving you if he hadn’t been such a fucking coward.

“Okay, calm down, Sungie,” he hears you speak.

But he just looks at you.

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down? How the fuck are you not stressed?!”

You grab both his arms, holding him, trying to ease his mind as much as possible.

“Because I trust you. I trust us. There must be something to stop that evil mission,” you say.

That’s when a lightbulb appears over his head, rushing away the dark clouds that had been above him just prior.

“There… there is… but I can’t expect that from you,” he says with a shy voice.

Yeah. As if you’d care.

You’d do anything to save the both of you. 

You would literally kill for Jisung.

“God, stop playing around. Whatever it is, I’ll do it,” you say all nonchalantly.

He takes a deep breath, as he catches a glimpse of the palms of his hands that are lying in his lap.

“They w-will be… less likely to do experiments on you if… if you’re my g-girlfriend.”

That’s it?

You were expecting some stuff including a billion won, your first born and a fucking unicorn.

“Alright. Let’s do this, then,” you tell him.

“Really?”

Don’t get your hopes up too high, Jisung.

“Sure, bro. If that’s what it takes for me to survive, I’ll play the best girlfriend you've ever had.”

Bro.

Yeah, he should in fact not get his hopes up too high.

In the meantime, you curse yourself for calling him that.

Bro.

Well, you don’t want him to believe you have a crush on him.

Which is dumb because you, in fact, have a crush on him.

But Jisung doesn’t. You’re sure.

He’s just the kindest person and always watching out for you because you’re friends.

This doesn’t explain the laundry-incident but that’s neither the right place nor time to debate this very much arousing disaster in your head right now.

There’s another thing that needs to be discussed beforehand.

“How do we get back?”

“Hm?”

“You know, back home,” you say.

The lightbulb turns on again.

“Oh I… there’s this guy I have to find at the ceremony tonight… he’s like a spy from earth, originally from ITEM as well but turned his back against them. He has been in a situation like this and will help us. His name is Minho. We met before.”

His words fully convince you that Jisung didn’t want this at all.

This time you hear the door next to you swing open, revealing the man from earlier.

You reach for your best friend, no, fake boyfriend’s hand, squeezing it a little.

It’s gonna be okay.

You’re gonna get out of here alive and well.

The man with the name tag is suddenly next to you again and coughs, drawing your attention to him.

“Sorry to announce this but the appointment will be postponed to tomorrow morning. The president invites you to the welcome party for all the humans tonight, though.”

Oh.

You don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing and judging from Jisung’s look on his face he doesn’t know how to categorise this either.

“Here is the key card for your room. Since you seem to be a couple, we assigned you a shared room.”

👽

The dress in a teal shade doesn’t only hug your body quite perfectly but also matches the tie that Jisung is wearing. It makes sense—the president must have chosen that for the both of you.

You’re already entering the party venue, when your mind is still occupied with the view of the hotel room they have given you.

Absolutely luxurious—to an amount that it looks nothing but pretentious—with a huge king size bed in the middle. Ornaments of pure gold, shimmering diamonds and real silk are embellishing the interior.

It’s not like Jisung and you haven’t slept in one bed before, you’ve been best friends for twelve years—going on camping trips during the summer months every year—and with your current nightmares occurring spontaneous cuddle sessions have been happening more frequently. 

However, this whole fake dating thing and the possibility of never seeing him again as of tomorrow, if the bosses decide to keep you for their psychopathic little experiments, it makes you wonder if this is the last possibility you get to finally do what you’ve been dreaming of for the past years.

You don’t even care anymore, you won’t let the chance slip again.

Not when you don’t know what follows tomorrow.

Or if tomorrow follows at all.

“Are you okay, baby?”

Jisung has called you by this name since some night in college when the nightmares started.

What you don’t know is that it was simultaneously when your best friend fell even harder for you. He’s always had a crush on you but his feelings hit harder on a random friday, when he picked you up from a party. You drank way too much after seeing your toxic ex at the frat house and just got emotional.

On autopilot, you dialed your best friend’s number and he immediately went there and brought you home to your shared apartment. He made sure you got sober again, made food for you and helped you get ready for bed—even brushing your teeth when you fell asleep in the middle of the process—and stayed by your side until the morning.

The first nightmare was probably caused by mixing beer, vodka and tequila together throughout the night. But the next ones followed for different reasons.

Those are the side effects of his demon powers.

Making someone he loves suffer in order to pull them closer to him. To make them cling to him.

So that he can take care of you.

It’s absolutely fucked up. But that’s how things are when you’re from ITEM.

“I’m okay, no worries,” you tell him.

You wonder if time stood still for a minute when your thoughts were running around again.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Your head snaps towards Jisung. God. You really have to calm down.

But how?

You’re fighting for your life, basically, and pretend to be Jisung’s significant other.

Being his lover is all you’ve ever dreamt of. After all, during nights of procrastination in college—which should have been spent with studying—it wasn’t unusual for you to create a sim of Jisung and one of you and make them marry each other, living their happily ever after.

Luckily, Jisung never caught you. That would have been the embarrassment of the century.

“Yeah… but water is fine,” you say.

“Of course.”

Jisung decides to copy your choice, as he tells you to wait. He walks towards the bar, asking for two glasses of iced cold water to keep you both awake.

Just when he’s about to grab the objects and head back towards you, someone stops him.

“Han Jisung?”

Strong arms instantly fill his vision. The guy isn’t much smaller than him, definitely one of the taller ones on this planet.

But how does he know his name?

“Yeah… that’s me. And you are?”

The buff man takes a sip from his bright pink glittering drink, the scents of pitaya entering Jisung’s nostrils. The liquid evaporates shimmering dust, drawing his attention to it.

Something like this would never happen on earth.

Maybe Jisung should have gotten a fancy beverage like this as well, but he needs to stay sober.

“I’m Changbin, nice to meet you.”

The name lets the lightbulb appear above Jisung’s head again.

This is good. Very good.

“Do you know if Minho is here?”

Changbin nods, “Oh, yeah. I saw him dancing with his spouse earlier. He should be somewhere around.”

“Thank you.”

Jisung takes the glasses in his hand, before he walks back to you and gives you one of them.

He doesn’t know what overtakes him—maybe the desperation, the hopelessness or his true love for you—but he gets dangerously close to you in a public setting.

All of a sudden, Jisung grabs your hand and for a second you get startled because of it.

“Remember… you’re my girlfriend,” he whispers into your ear.

It lets shivers run down your spine.

God, how you wished he said that in a real context to you.

You dearly hope your little lies will be successful enough to bring you back to earth and escape that shitshow. This whole setting is worth more than all your worst nightmares combined.

That’s when it clicks.

You’ve never cared about any label between the both of you.

Of course, you want to do things with Jisung that friends usually don’t do.

You’ve imagined him being the man next to you at the altar.

But you’ve always been okay with how everything has always been. It’s because you love Jisung so much that it doesn’t matter to you, what you two are.

You just want him close.

You just want him to be with you.

You just want him.

Maybe that’s true love after all.

Jisung’s been staring at you for a solid minute now, still holding your hand and pulling you closer. But complaining is the last thing you want to do.

It overcomes him right again.

All of a sudden, you feel a soft kiss on your cheek. It lasts a little longer than you would have expected.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, angel. I promise.”

Angel.

That’s unusual.

Jisung called you by this name only a few times.

The first one was when you fell off your bike when you two were fourteen. He rushed to you and even though he didn’t know anything about giving first aid, he still managed to make you feel better. Just him being there let the pain vanish away.

The second time was when your first boyfriend broke up with you in highschool, leaving you for the girl he told you not to worry about. When you called, Jisung was basically already at your house, bringing you a bag full of ice cream, candies and tissues without saying anything.

The third time was in college when you didn’t pass an exam you’ve been studying for for months but the professor didn’t like you. He assured you with the kindest and sweetest words, including this little pet name.

“Han Jisung, glad to have you here.”

The movie of nostalgic memories that is playing in front of your inner eyes suddenly comes to a halt.

You see your best friend taking a bow and you copy his movements.

“Mr Park. Thank you for the invitation.”

The man has a name tag on his suit jacket, saying The President’s right hand man. It’s the one from earlier.

“Oh, please, call me Jinyoung,” he says, shaking Jisung’s hands.

Jisung bows once more. Jinyoung gives you a warm smile, making you wonder how this person could possibly be involved in any of the deviant experiments.

“Your girlfriend is an asset to our whole planet. I can really imagine the two of you living happily ever after here,” he says, still keeping his gaze on you.

You thank him, feeling heat rise up to your head.

Then, Jinyoung comes a little closer to Jisung, aligning his mouth with your friend’s ear, making it impossible for you to catch his next words.

“What a shame your little fake relationship wasn’t convincing enough.”

You see Jisung freeze—his whole face and body paralyses.

“Baby?” he calls you.

“Hm?”

“Here,” he says, giving you the keycard, “why don’t you go to the hotel room, I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

You simply nod, too confused to ask any questions. So, you just follow suit, leaving Jisung alone.

In the meantime, he gathers up all his strength and focus to do what he has to do—find the guy he is looking for.

Lee Minho.

He has a faded memory of what he looks like. They met some years ago at a meeting on earth.

Five minutes pass. Another ten minutes follow.

Jisung is giving up.

Although Changbin told him Minho will be here, he doubts it at this point. Maybe, he just didn’t want Jisung to feel any more hopeless.

“Why are you drinking water, when there’s plenty of fancy beverages to try here?”

The voice startles him. It sounds familiar.

Jisung turns his head around, staring right into the eyes of the man he’s been searching for.

“Is it you… Minho?”

“Yeah– Jisung?” he asks when he notices his old friend.

“Chan… told me to search for you,” Jisung explains.

That’s when it fully clicks. Minho realises what their older, shared friend told him.

They’ve all been in similar situations before. Minho brought his assigned human here roughly two years ago, on his 25th birthday. He fell in love with them as well, the same Netflix drama-like disaster Jisung is caught in now.

They weren’t dating either, Minho had the same stupid idea to just pretend, soon realising it’s not enough to fight against everything evil.

So, Minho is his last chance. He’s the only one who can tell him how to survive. After all, he saved his person and himself two years ago, too.

“Park said we… w-weren’t convincing. Does this m-mean the worst?”

Jisung’s palms are sweaty, his knees are getting weaker and weaker with every second.

“Well… there’s still time. I will explain the rules to you. But in order to get back to earth, you have to follow them exactly how I tell you. No chickening out,” Minho warns him.

It’s all or nothing.

“Sure. Whatever it is, I– we will do it,” Jisung says.

“You both have to work on it.”

Jisung nods, rubbing with his hands over the sides of his pants because his palms are still so sweaty. God. He’s so fucking nervous. Not about what Minho will tell him but about the whole situation and growing possibility of not being able to save you.

“So, what is it, Minho?”

The older one gets a little closer, making sure no one hears them.

“Your love wasn’t convincing enough… We had a few couples here pretending to be in a relationship or get married even. I did the same back then. But the evil force can’t be overpowered if it’s not real.”

Jisung nods, trying to catch all the words despite the deafening sound of his heart beating at the speed of light.

“This means,” Minho continues, “you should work on that, make it as authentic as possible and if you meet that expectation, the portal will open on its own. You still have a chance—at the very last when you’re at the meeting with the president tomorrow. But the sooner, the safer.”

He pulls Minho into a hug, clinging onto his friend.

“Thank you so much.”

The other man chuckles, “Not for that. See you on earth.”

👽

“So, it wasn’t enough,” you sum up Jisung’s five minute long hysterical monologue.

He came back with tears in his eyes, falling to his knees and begging you for forgiveness that he brought you into this. You shushed him up again, telling him to not be such a drama queen and that whatever’s going on can be solved.

Then, he poured his heart out, telling you about Jinyoung’s words and how he met Minho afterwards.

You have to do more than this. You have to be real.

“We weren’t authentic,” you repeat his words.

I am the most authentic, Y/N, because I am in love with you, Jisung thinks but he doesn’t say it out loud.

“Maybe… maybe not enough,” he adds.

Well. That still sounds very manageable.

You can act the best if it’s not acting, after all.

Showing Jisung affection isn’t the hardest thing in this world. Sure, you haven’t done it before, haven’t made a serious move so far because of your stupid crush on him but now it’s live or die and you can at least blame it on that.

A win-win situation.

Not really. But you keep telling yourself exactly that.

“We can work on that,” you say.

“H-How?” he shyly asks.

“We… could kiss. For instance,” you suggest, slowly nodding your head.

Jisung’s eyes are practically falling out.

“N-Now?”

If not now, when? Does he want to wait until tomorrow?

You doubt it’s a good idea to randomly start a make out session when meeting the president for the first time just to be escorted to the experiment building.

“Why not? You said the portal might open on its own when we’re convincing enough. We have no time to lose,” you remind him.

Jisung nods and just when he’s about to take a step towards you, he decides to take off his suit jacket as well as the tie.

He pulls at the teal fabric, loosening it before he throws it right on the chair a few meters away.

Oh, God.

You’re doomed.

With long strides he approaches you, before he grabs your face with both his hands.

“Are you sure you want this?”

It’s the only chance he’s got.

It’s the only chance you’ve got.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

For a second Jisung believes this isn’t about pretending anymore.

Especially, when he finally presses his lips against yours and you instantly give in, practically melt and then drown in his hold. Your hands copy his motions, as you pull him closer. He instead places his own on your hips, pulling you closer.

You can’t get enough. He hasn’t even done much yet but you’re already under his spell.

Jisung’s tongue grazes over your lips next, asking for entrance which you eagerly allow him. Your own starts dancing with his, swirling around at the same pace and rhythm of your heartbeats. 

He can’t hold back—his lips are leaving their place, very much against your preference, but he makes up for it when he attaches them to your jaw instead. The most beautiful patterns wander down your neck, before they decide to stay there for a little longer, drawing the prettiest flowers all over again, almost like a tattoo that’ll remind you of who you’ve belonged to all along.

When Jisung pulls back for a second, his eyes finding yours, you could swear they darkened by a thousand shades, almost looking—unreal, magical, demonic.

“Still not enough, huh?” he teases, like the menace he is.

His hand is keeping your head in place, index finger lifting up your chin so that you’re forced to look at him.

“Hm, we could try more, Sungie,” you playfully reply, clicking your tongue.

“More?” he asks, pretending he doesn’t know what you’re referring to.

After all, your request should be the most intimate form two souls can engage with, right?

Jisung hasn’t forgotten about the fact that you’re only sleeping with people you have a strong, romantic connection with. But he’s too shy to ask what this means and also doesn’t want to ruin the mood.

And well, in your case this shouldn’t be a hindrance anyway.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about burying your cock inside me before,” you provoke him.

“H-How–“

There’s a reason Jisung hasn’t made a move on you before. It’s, well, let’s say connected to his identity of not being human.

At least he blames it on that and not the fact he’s an absolute coward.

“I caught you stealing my underwear, you creep.”

Well and that. Yeah. That was also something holding him back.

His guilty conscience.

But when he can’t be with you, he thought the idea of you would live up to it.

Spoiler: It didn't. Jisung got desperate over time and the fact he has all those deep and dark desires, a million times stronger caused by his hidden strength, didn’t make thinking logically any easier.

It did start innocently. At first, they were just thoughts. Then, you accidentally left one of your panties in his laundry basket when giving him his fresh clothes.

And well from there… it all went downhill. He tried to be as discreet about it as possible.

He always made sure to throw your panties into his own hamper after… using them for what they’re not intended to be used for.

Spoiler: He failed.

“Y/N– I’m sorry I–“

Your hand wanders up to his face now. He deserves a little teasing.

Was it wrong doing this? Absolutely.

Did it just turn you on even more? Maybe.

So, you brush over his cheeks with your fingers, as a pout appears on your face.

Jisung is terrified. He feels bad about it and you can definitely tell.

“You’re a bit of a pervert but it’s a good thing that I’m the same when it comes to you,” you whisper.

That’s when his eyes darken even further, almost making him look like a creature from another world.

Well…

“You like the idea, hm?”

Oh, fuck.

You underestimated this.

“You’re craving my hands all over you? Want me to touch you, to take care of you, angel?”

He kisses you again. A billion times more passionate than before, if that’s even possible. You give in, allow him to guide you through the movements, before you pull away.

“I want you,” you tell him and that’s all he needs to hear.

Jisung lets go for a second to switch off the big light and turn on the little lamps above the headboard instead, shrouding the room in a dim colour of red. How convenient this hotel is.

You chuckle, when he comes closer again, already busy continuing the little artwork on your neck again. 

You lose track of time and space, of everything that the universe has ever come up with. Nothing matters when you’re with Jisung, he’s all you’ve ever needed and if you’re to die tomorrow, you lived the best life you could’ve ever had.

“You’re beautiful,” he says between kisses, but all you can do is whimper, as your head falls back, letting him take the lead.

“Baby?”

He disconnects his lips for a second from your skin, before he lifts up his gaze, wanting to be on eye level with you.

“Y-Yeah?”

Jisung takes a deep breath. He still has to warn you about something before you take this any further. God, he seriously prays you won’t freak out.

“Once we start… you may have noticed how my eyes turn darker… I won’t be… won’t be able to stop… there are these powers that will t-take over me and they will affect you too and–“

“I want this. I’ve wanted this for years,” you reassure him.

Whatever it is, you’re fine with it. You’re not surprised he might differ a little from humans, he’s not from earth after all.

Meanwhile, Jisung is busy trying to not scream out loud.

You’ve wanted this for years? For fucking years?

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah. I thought you’d catch the hint sooner,” you let him know.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

He tilts his head a little, bringing his hand to your face to place a strand of hair behind your ear.

A move he did so many times before but for some reason your heart skips two beats in a row this time instead of just one.

“I wanted you to make the first move… with all your pervy behaviour I wanted to make sure you’re doing this because of me and not some general thing–“

“No. Just you. It has been you all along,” he admits.

“Then… what are you still waiting for, Han Jisung?” 

That’s when his eyes darken to the fullest, filling your whole vision. He looks like… something mystical. Like the opposite of an angel and you wonder if that’s the reason he chose that name for you.

“Ruin me, demon boy,” you half-jokingly say.

But since it’s Han Jisung we’re talking about, of course this only turns him on even more.

He instantly goes in for a kiss and now the feeling overtakes you completely, you feel your souls connecting—a sensation you can’t describe with any word of any language you’ve ever learnt.

It’s like he’s your gravity and you’re floating in space, getting closer to him until you become one.

Jisung’s hands are by now all over you and you wonder how long it’ll take him to basically rip that short teal dress apart, until… well… the dress leaves your body on its own.

It wasn’t Jisung who took it off you, he was way too busy pulling his own button up shirt over his head.

Which means…

“You can take off– with your mind?!” you ask, standing there in your underwear only.

Jisung admires your body for a second and when he realises you’re wearing his favourite pair of panties of yours, he fears he might just cum on the spot. God, how many times he sneaked into your room to grab that specific piece of fabric.

“Hm, I can do a lot more than that,” he tells you.

“For instance?”

“Well, just in general fuck your brains out.”

The words leave his lips all casually and you might as well swoon right here, right now.

But Jisung is faster, already picking you up—bridal style—to place you on the huge bed. The mattress shifts under your weight and moves a little more when he follows.

He gets rid of his pants next, leaving him only in his boxers. You can already see the outline of his hardening cock, straining against the fabric of his underwear. Your friend turned lover positions his upper body between your legs, parting your thighs with no effort, before his lips make the most beautiful sequel of that artwork on your neck.

And that’s when your mind goes blank.

You don’t know if Jisung helped you out of your bra, if it was his demon power or you yourself but a minute later you find yourself almost completely naked in his hold.

Jisung’s fingers are grazing over the thin material of your panties. They’re practically transparent—arousal dripping through them—which is the reason they are his favourite. He imagined you wearing these and wondered if he could catch a glimpse of your pretty pussy whenever you walked up the stairs in front of him while wearing a dress.

He could. A few times when your skirts were short enough.

But nothing comes close to having you a few inches away from him, sprawled out on the bed, begging for more.

However, Jisung takes his time. Painfully slowly, he finally slips down your underwear but keeps it not too far away for later purposes.

As if he’s controlling your mind—but you’re in fact just more than eager—you part your legs even further, granting him better access. Jisung dives right in, after spreading your pussy lips apart. His tongue collides with your clit and for a second you believe you’re in heaven.

Collecting a little bit of saliva—although you’re more than wet enough for him—he spits on your sensitive nub, just to go right back to making out with it. You’re already arching your back, gripping the sheets and begging for more.

Your head gets thrown back and whimper after whimper leaves your mouth. Just when Jisung lets out a moan himself, drowning in your delicious scents, your gaze snaps back.

He looks so alluring. Almost like an angel, a God—it’s unbelievable he is supposed to be a demon or whatever he calls himself.

“Oh, thank you baby,” Jisung coos.

“I… I didn’t say anything, did I?”

You’re confused.

You did only think that, right?

Not that you’re denying anything but you don’t remember speaking even a syllable these past minutes. All that’s made it out of your mouth have been moans so far.

“Well… not out loud,” Jisung smirks. “I can still hear you.”

“You can read my mind,” you say. “You can read my mind?!”

He chuckles now.

“Demon powers, sorry. Should I turn it off?”

“No it’s…” something I touched myself to before, you want to say but cut off your words.

“Yeah, angel? It’s what?”

Angel.

Of course.

Han Jisung, you’re a fucking tease.

The brattiest demons of them all.

“I like it… yeah,” you admit.

“Me, too.”

Then you see his tie move on its own, basically levitating towards the bed. Right from the chair where it was just mere seconds ago.

Absolutely normal, sure.

The fabric is hovering over your head now, before it comes dangerously close to your wrists.

That’s when Jisung—despite seeing that absolutely eager look on your face—gets hit with second guesses.

“Are you okay with that? Or is it weird because–“

“No, I like that, too,” you confess.

“You like that?”

The smirk that appears over his face is letting heat rush towards your face.

“Maybe a little more than just liking.”

“Hm, I can tell,” he teases you.

“How? I didn’t think that.”

“Oh, solely by the way you’re squeezing your thighs together. I would have noticed that as well if I was a human.”

His tongue brushes over his teeth, one corner of his mouth rises up a little.

“You little–“

“Nah, you’re gonna be a good girl now, yeah?”

Oh, fuck.

“What if I’m not?”

The fabric floats closer to you, slowly wrapping around your wrists until your arms get thrown over your head. The tie turns into a knot, gluing you to the metallic headboard.

“Well, that would be a pity because only good girls are allowed to cum,” he warns.

That’s how you find yourself—all obediently—right back where you were a few minutes ago. Moaning, screaming, underneath him.

Jisung flicks his tongue over your clit, all whilst two of his fingers are dangerously close to your entrance, circling around it.

The tight piece of clothing around your hands stings a little, but you have to admit that you enjoy it even more because of the sensation. Despite that, you can’t think of anything right now anyway. Not when Jisung is finally pushing his two digits it, immediately feeling you clench around him.

He wonders what it will feel like to bury his cock inside you.

You’re wondering the same, or something similar, that’s why you call out his name.

“Sungie?”

“Hm?”

Jisung looks up from between your thighs, lips and chin covered in your arousal and feels you clench around his fingers when you notice. So, he starts moving them, still listening to your words.

“What did you think about when you… stole my panties?”

He chuckles, “Exactly this, to be honest. Have you squirming underneath me. Begging me for more. Absolutely helpless and eager.”

The thrusting motions continue, he scissors you open a little, before he adds a third finger. You let out another moan, nearly not catching what he says next.

“But I also thought about… how I would make love to you.”

There’s no possibility to respond or even think about his words when he shuts you up by curling those digits in an angle that makes him reach that certain spot inside you. When Jisung feels the effect he has on you, he brings his tongue right back on your clit, drawing circles around it.

“Sung– I–“

He nods, way too busy with his tongue, attacking your swollen bud even further. The thrusting movements pick up their pace and a few seconds later, you come undone, screaming his name for dear life, gripping the headboard.

Ecstasy takes over your whole body, possessing your complete mind and soul. Jisung helps you ride out your high, decreasing his speed when he feels you get even more sensitive from his touch. He pulls out of you and you watch him lick his fingers clean, wiping away your remaining liquids on his face.

“Jisung…”

He’d thought you’d be a little exhausted from that mindblowing orgasm, but it seems as if his powers are already taking over you again.

“Yeah, baby?”

You pull him closer, another passionate kiss follows as you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Need you…”

He chuckles once again, “What do you need, angel?”

You grunt. “Your cock inside me– please–“

So, he loosens the tie around your wrist and just manhandles you around in a ninety degree turn, flips you onto your stomach with little to no strength needed.

You see his underwear land on the chair across the bed and that’s when you notice something else right beside it. There must be a reason why Jisung opted for this position—he can watch your pretty face in the mirror while railing you into oblivion from behind.

“You ready, love?”

Love.

Jisung’s stroking his length, as you’re on all fours for him, giving access to your aching heat.

“It’s been some time… since I…” you tell him.

That’s when he slows down a little, softly brushing over your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“I’ll be gentle, yeah?”

Almost unbelievable, considering those words leave the mouth of a demon.

You hastily nod, before he pushes a few centimetres in. Your walls tighten around him in an instant, welcoming him in. His size is definitely above average but you’re not surprised. After all, you’ve watched him wear those grey sweatpants with definitely no boxers underneath before.

You’re not any better than him when it comes to watching and dreaming unholy thoughts about roommates.

“Sung– you’re so big–“ you let out.

“Shh, you can take it, baby.”

You nod and that’s when he finally bottoms you out. He starts moving with a painfully slow pace but you thank him for that, as he stretches you out carefully.

“Look in the mirror,” he orders. “I want you to watch how I fuck you, I want you to see what a slut you are for me.”

Oh, God. You’re already close again. That’s what his words do to you.

His cock is stroking your walls delightfully, as you follow his demand. Your nails are digging into the sheets, holding onto the fabric for dear life while Jisung fucks you senseless.

“You look so pretty, angel. Letting me do all the work while you’re being such a good slut for me, hm?”

“Hm…” you hum in agreement.

“Don’t need to think about anything, baby. Just let me take care of you, yeah? I know exactly what’s good for you.”

And so, you do.

Jisung picks up his pace, finding that spot inside you again when he changes his angle and adjusts your position a little. Two of fingers wander between your legs, as they start to rub your clit again like his tongue did earlier.

Mindless babble leaves your lips, your brain has shut off a long time ago.

Nothing matters anymore when he’s fucking you this good.

“Baby?” he suddenly calls out for you.

You want to reply but only a moan makes it past your lips, so you eagerly nod instead.

Jisung chuckles, “I’m going to make you cum all over my cock as if it’s the only thing you were made to do.”

It seems as if he can in fact control your mind—or you’re just dangerously close to your second climax because he’s taking such good care of you.

“Need to– close–“ you cry out.

Skin is slapping against skin. Squelching sounds are filling the room. Moans definitely make it past these four walls.

“No, baby, not until you beg for it like the good whore you are,” he tells you.

“Sungie, please, please, please–“

“You can do more than that, sweetheart,” Jisung adds, knowing he’s just as close as you are.

“Please– I need to cum– can I– please?”

“Okay, okay, angel, I’ve got you, yeah?”

Your vision gets filled with stars, as the feeling takes over you, sensation spreading through your veins. It triggers Jisung to reach his high as well and after you begged him for it, he paints your walls white, shooting his thick spurts of cum into your cunt.

Everything after that is a total blur. Jisung takes care of your fragile body, cleans you with a towel before he puts you into the bathrobe he finds hanging on the wall. He tells you to use the bathroom, before he helps you sit on the bed.

You’re definitely gonna be sore tomorrow.

Once you come to your senses again, you see the brightest smile on Jisung’s face.

However, he said that that Minho guy told him the portal will open on its own when you’re authentic enough.

But there's still no portal.

How is getting your brains fucked out not authentic enough?

Well, considering the odds aren’t in your favour and your life will change forever tomorrow, become a disaster you’re caught in without Jisung, the person you love the most, you might as well just tell him the whole truth, right?

You don’t care if he doesn’t love you back.

But he’s been so honest to you about his hidden identity, felt so comfortable to share it—so you should reveal your secret too, right?

There’s never been an actual reason to not be your true self around him.

It’s okay to be different as long as we can be different together with the people we adore the most.

So, without any useless introduction, you just tell him.

“I am in love with you, Han Jisung.”

His eyes widen. Then his mouth falls agape.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Say that again.”

You smirk, “I am in love with you, you weirdo.”

He startles you a little when his lips collide with yours, sealing them in the most heartwarming kiss you’ve ever received.

Then he pulls away.

“I am in love with you too, Y/L/N Y/L.”

A shining light blinds your vision, enlightens the whole room.

There’s a portal next to you. Just appearing there out of nowhere.

You chuckle. It makes sense now.

You’ve never had to prove your love to anyone else.

True love only has to be proven to the person that’s receiving it. Over and over again.

By caring for each other.

By looking out for each other.

By being there for each other in the darkest times.

By trusting each other no matter what.

But most importantly—by showing with words what we feel.

Because when we speak things out loud, that’s when they turn into reality.

🤍 AUTHOR'S NOTE: thank you so much for reading! I was pretty terrified to upload this since it's a little darker and I have never posted something alien au lmao but it was so much fun writing. I'm very happy I continued this story despite my insecurities. I hope, you enjoyed it too. If that's the case I'd be very grateful for any kind comments and reblogs you leave. Always rember that these are the number one motivation for us authors and likes mean nothing on tumblr considering its algorithm. Thank you for considering it and have a nice day :)

© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

“𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓇, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝐼 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊” ⋆˚. ݁˖

⏾ — 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓼 . ݁˖

song: 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 - 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯

assassin!lee minho x afab!reader // word count: 4.8k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: dark content (do not read if uncomfortable), kidnapping, drugging, minor character death, mentions of blood

note from author: this is my first published work after a long hiatus, hope you like it <3

Minho has never been proud of what he is. It is just the cards that life dealt him, the product of his raising. It is what’s expected of him. He was proud, however, to be the best assassin in his family. He lived to see the glimmer of resentment in his father’s eyes whenever he got to the kill first. Minho was always smarter, always stealthier, always quicker, and always cleaner. His father began Minho’s training at the mere age of 4 and by the age of 7, Minho had successfully poisoned a rank 3 target. He always swore to surpass his father, for if he had to be what he was, he would always make sure his father regretted it.

Minho’s siblings were decent assassins, but only his eldest brother came close to his skill. As the youngest of four, Minho literally fought to survive his childhood. For as his father says, “if any of you are weak enough to get killed by one another, you’re too weak to be in this family.” Minho has never attempted on his siblings, another trait that he is proud to provoke his father with. Minho didn’t need to prove that he was the best.

It was currently 8:21 pm. Minho was perched on the rooftop of an apartment, overlooking the city. He enjoyed the view. The dark sky contrasted with the lights of the city, as if the stars had all descended to the streets, leaving the sky to remain as an endless void. After a deep inhale, he glanced at his watch again. 8:23. In seven minutes, an heiress to some royal family (Minho never cared for these details of the jobs) would arrive home for the night. And that was when Minho would make his move.

A chill swept through the air, carrying the scent of the freshly baked croissants at the next door bakery. Minho’s beanie and jacket kept him warm, along with his gloves and face mask. But, as he shifted slightly, the icy blade pressed into his skin at his waistline sent a different chill through his body. Maybe he wasn’t proud of his career, but he couldn’t deny there was a rush of excitement with every job he accepted. It was in his blood. He was born to be a monster.

8:28. He heard the growling engine growing louder, shifting himself flat against the roof to avoid detection as the car pulled up. Even being 3 stories up, Minho’s observant eyes peered over the tiles to inspect the scene below. The driver got out of the car, heading to the rear passenger door and opening it. And out stepped you.

Minho never showed emotion. His ruthless family would use it against him, so he learned to keep his expression neutral and his body language in check. But when he saw you, his eyebrows betrayed him with the slightest twitch. You were adorned in a luxurious black gown, the chiffon skirt cascading around your legs, the sleeveless bodice framing your figure. Minho blinked to clear his thoughts, watching as you entered the apartment, another man getting out of the car and tailing you. An employee of your father’s, most likely.

Minho remembers the job description: “mafia family heir, to be captured for ransom, then killed. Rank 1.” The ranks justified the difficulty of a job. But rank 1s were saved for kings and queens themselves or other jobs of that severity. Family members and heirs were usually ranked 2 or 3, depending on the security and relations. So what made you special? His curiosity urged him to get closer to you and, convincing himself that it was simply the next move for the job, his body complied.

Minho slid down the roof slanting onto the upper balcony, swiftly tucking into the shadows again. Like the professional he was, Minho had already surveyed the apartment and knew the layout. A 3-story apartment in a small community, tucked away between other similar apartments and a bakery. Expensive, but relatively hidden, blending in with the other buildings along the street. He quickly picked the lock, taking advantage of the precious minutes between your employee disabling the alarm and resetting it as he slipped inside.

He had expected a bedroom as luxurious as the dress you wore, but was surprised to find the place rather simply designed and decorated. You had books and clothes scattered about, an easel in the corner, a stuffed rabbit on your bed. It looked…normal. Not like the bedroom of a mafia heir. And he’s seen a couple of those in his life.

Footsteps ascending the stairs broke him from his thoughts. He carefully crouched behind the easel. Even if you had turned the lights on, the shadow from the bookcase next to him was perfect cover. He had planned every move accordingly. And now, he waited.

Minho listened carefully to the noises outside the door, pleased to find the walls weren’t thin. He strained his ears to pick up on your words. You sounded upset, but he couldn’t make out why. Minho didn’t flinch as you flung the door open, nor when you slammed it shut and turned on the light. He sat perfectly still, eyes just being able to see your figure between the easel and the corner of the bookcase.

You threw yourself onto the bed, hands working to rid yourself of your jewelry. Minho could easily swipe your earrings after his job was done - they were obviously worth a hefty penny. But Minho never cared for money. His grandfather started this family business for money, then fame once his children showed aptitude to follow his footsteps. His father continued the legacy for the same reasons. His siblings would’ve swiped your earrings, your necklace, your rings, and hell maybe even the gown after they were done with you. But not Minho. He only cared about getting the job done.

You stood, catching his full attention again. His eyes followed your every move as you made your way to your closet. You slipped your heels off, throwing them into the corner before grabbing a tee shirt. Your delicate hands reached for the zipper at the back of your dress. Minho politely shifted his gaze, keeping his pupils glued on your calves as the dress plummeted to the floor. He watched you throw the oversized shirt on in his peripherals, the hem reaching the tops of your thighs, not leaving much to the imagination. He tried to avoid seeing your underwear, not understanding why he was feeling some sense of nerves.

Minho has been a professional assassin for over a decade. He had forgotten what nerves were. But as you turned slightly, his eyes took in your face up close, and his heart skipped a beat. You were beautiful. As you grew closer, Minho’s muscles tensed. His fingers naturally found the hilt of his knife. He was a professional, he wouldn’t let you distract him from his job, no matter how much your eyes made his pulse quicken.

Suddenly, your door swung open, stopping you in your tracks. “Y/n, your father is on the pho-“

“I don’t want to talk to him.” You hissed, returning to plop on your bed.

The man from the car took a tentative step into the room. “Will you please not be difficult, Y/n. You knew this day would come.”

You shoved your face into the pillows with a groan. If Minho wasn’t perfectly controlled, he would’ve let a chuckle slip out. Minho had only ever met two types of heirs: stuck up and spoiled or meek and polite. Your childishness was interesting. The man tried to sneak closer to you with the phone, but you jumped up and shoved him out the door. “Leave me alone!” The door slammed shut. Minho watched you return to the bed, grabbing your rabbit and sighing deeply.

Hundreds of jobs over the years. Hundreds of faces that Minho has seen, lives he’s heard, and not one sprouted an ounce of interest in him. So, why you? Why was he curious about what was troubling you? Why were you a rank 1? What was going on here?

Minho sat, still as a rock and in total silence, as the night went on. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, rabbit tucked in your arms. The noises of the house quieted as well and finally he slid out of his hiding spot. He stalked over to your bed, trying to deny himself admiring your features. Your hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo.

Minho grabbed the small bag of powder from his pocket, spreading the substance over his palm. “I’m sorry.” He breathed, holding his palm to your mouth and nose while his other hand quickly grabbed your wrists. You woke up with a start, immediately fighting, but to no avail. Minho’s was much stronger than he looked. After a few moments, the drug kicked in a you lay limp in his grasp. Minho took a damp towelette to his glove, pocketing it, then gathered you in his arms.

You woke up in a daze. The room was blurry and your head pounded. You tried to turn, realizing you couldn’t move. Before you could attempt to speak, a voice made you jump. “Finally awake?” You blinked until the blurriness faded, leaving you in a small and dark room with a strange man staring back at you. “How do you feel?”

Still confused, you shook your head, only to wince when it pounded. “Uh,” your own voice startled you. It was hoarse.

The man stepped closer. “I thought so. The drug is relatively harmless, but can cause dehydration.” He is gloved hand reached out a glass of water towards you. “Here.”

You stubbornly turned your head, awareness setting in as you felt the ropes binding your wrists behind you. You fought the panic rising in your chest. You needed to be brave. “Who are you?” You asked, craning your neck to look around, seeing you were lying on a bed. “And where am I?”

To your surprise, the man chuckled. You tried to ignore how charming his voice was. “Drink some water and I’ll tell you.” His tone was casual, as if kidnapping you was just another Tuesday for him. It irritated you.

“No.” You spat. “You probably poisoned it.”

Again, the man laughed. “I’ve had several hours to kill you, my dear.” He shifted you into a seated position before guiding the water to your lips. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up just now.” You pouted at his words. He was right. Reluctantly, you put your lips to the rim of the glass, allowing him to pour the water onto your tongue. You immediately felt better as the pounding left your head. “There you go,” he praised.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth that spread inside you. You couldn’t even tell what he looked like, beanie and mask only leaving his eyes on display, but they were enthralling. Those dark eyes watched you intently, reading you with curiosity and amusement. You looked around the room, breaking the eye contact before you could be pulled into their depths. “Where am I?”

He set the glass down on the bedside table. “My room.”

“Your room?” You asked, unable to hide your surprise. “And who might you be?”

“That’s a secret.” He smirked, enjoying the annoyance in your features.

You bit your tongue. He seemed calm and friendly, and yet, there was an aura of danger surrounding him. You needed to be careful. “So,” you drawled, checking out the rest of the room, more so to avoid his eyes. There wasn’t much to it apart from a large bookcase next to a desk and the bed you currently resided on. You did notice a closet in the corner. But, no windows. Where were you? “Why have you kidnapped me, then?”

He sighed, catching you off guard. Coming from a mafia family, you had always been warned of people coming after you for various reasons. Money, revenge against your father, etc. You knew of people attempting to hurt you before, but their attempts were always disrupted by your guards. Your father had never left you alone for fear of this day, always guards around and within your apartment, his most trusted friend to always monitor your whereabouts. You were actually rather impressed that the man in front of you now had managed to pull off this stunt, the first to ever succeed.

Still, you’d always pictured the faces of the attempted kidnappers and assassins over the years. All you could imagine was different forms of evil. Angry, disgusting, maniacal, faces without remorse for what they were doing. But when you gazed upon the eyes of the man in front of you, you saw none of those things. What you saw was a bored and uninterested face, but if you allowed your eyes to linger on his for just a moment too long, you saw what was almost…sadness.

Finally, the man spoke, breaking you from your trance. “There’s a ransom for your return.” He was careful in his words, not to give away too many details about the job or his employer. Again, a professional. “I will keep you here until that ransom is delivered and then return you home safely.” He didn’t like lying to you, but he wasn't going to tell you this ended in your death. ‘to be captured for ransom, then killed…’ A bitter taste sat on Minho’s tongue. To request your murder even after receiving the ransom money, that was a clear giveaway of a personal grudge. His father had given him this job, but who was the employer?

Minho was a professional, always seeing the job to the end. But goddamn him if he couldn’t shake this feeling that something wasn’t right. He watched you intently, finally letting himself admire you. A professional he was, but evil he wasn’t. You were beautiful, innocent. Minho knew evil and you were not that. You didn’t deserve this fate. He had to think of a plan.

“So, this is for money.” you groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “Of course. Very cliche of you, I was actually hoping for better.”

That comment caught Minho off-guard and he snickered. You were different, indeed. “It wasn’t my plan, dear.” He fought the urge to move the stray hair from your face. “Just the job I took.”

You shouldn’t be talking to this man, your kidnapper, so casually. You should be stoic, or fighting, or scared, or something of a normal reaction to being kidnapped. But even with his dark presence, there was an air of ease with him. “You do this for a living then? Kidnapping?”

Minho hummed. “It is part of my skill set, I suppose.” His eyes never left you. It should be unsettling, you shouldn’t be enjoying his attention.

The room was quiet as you pondered which question to ask next. As you watched his eyes, you noticed the aging in them, as if he has seen many things, lived many lifetimes. But the surrounding skin pointed to a man rather young. Your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”

Minho hesitated. He didn’t have friends. He didn’t really talk to anyone, actually. He kept to himself and his books. The conversation taking a personal turn made him uncomfortable, but he was tempted to share himself with you. Still, he had to protect his identity. “20.”

Your eyes widened. “Youre only a year older than me?”

Before the conversation could continue, Minho’s phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket, walking away from you to answer the call. “She’s awake.” Minho spoke first.

“The ransom has been posted. Await my signal for the return.” His dad was always straight to the point.

“Understood.” Minho hung up the phone, returning to your side, only to stop in his tracks. The way you looked up at him, eyes wide and questioning, caused a pang in his heart. You were causing him to feel so many things in such a short amount of time. You were dangerous, you would break the facade Minho has spent over a decade perfecting. He couldn’t have that. “Your ransom has been posted. I’ll return you home once it’s paid.”

You should be happy to hear the news, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to go home, where every move was monitored, every decision made for you. Besides, you wanted to know more about this mysterious man with his captivating eyes.

At that moment, your stomach let out an embarrassing growl. Heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly looked away from his amused gaze. “Are you hungry?” You wanted to hide, deny it, but your stomach gave you away again. With a chuckle, Minho turned towards the door. “I’ll be right back.”

A good few moments passed (you had no idea how much time in actuality since there was no clock or windows) before Minho returned to the room, a steaming bowl in his hands. He sat next to you on the bed. You peered into the bowl and inhaled. Wow, the soup smelled and looked amazing. Minho gathered some of the soup in a spoon before bringing it to your lips. The act was too intimate, too kind for the situation you were in, but it surprisingly felt natural. Minho fed you until the bowl was empty, then gave you more water. The comfortable silence that fell upon you two was finally broken by your voice. “So, you cook took?”

Minho gave a small chuckle. “My family doesn’t exactly cook, so I learned some basic recipes.” You waited for him to continue speaking, but he seemed to end it there. You wanted to know more. What was his family like? What kind of childhood would one have to go through to choose this kind of lifestyle? You decided against asking more. The man before you was shrouded in mystery and you had a desire to discover every detail about him.

Minho’s eyes met yours, catching you blatantly watching him. But this time, you didn’t turn away. You let yourself be pulled into those depths. You didn’t even know this man’s name, and he had kidnapped you for the matter, but you felt an irresistible pull towards him. He must have felt the same, taking a deep sigh before his gloved hand reached out to your face. You froze as his fingers grazed your cheekbone, guiding a stray hair behind your ear.

Your eyes were locked with his, breathing stalled as you waited for his next move. Instead, you jumped at the buzz of Minho’s cellphone. He was quick to answer it, leaving you stranded on the bed and walking to the corner of the room. “It’s done.” His father’s voice traveled through the phone. “Finish the job.”

Minho’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained neutral. “Understood.” He hung up the phone, returning it to his pocket. He was just ordered to kill you. He had always finished his jobs, quickly, perfectly, and without hesitation. But as he glanced back to your form on his bed, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest. You looked up at him, eyes round and hopeful. Minho has never regretted what he was, until now.

“Your ransom’s been paid.” Minho stated. You quickly noticed his change in demeanor, as subtle as it was. Something was off. You patiently waited for him to continue. Finally, Minho spoke again. “I’ve been ordered to kill you.”

You feel panic rise in your chest. Suddenly you remember the reality of your situation: kidnapped, bound, at the mercy of a dangerous stranger. Minho hated the way quickly your gaze had changed, the admiration and curiosity being replaced by pure fear. “But, you said I would be returned home after the payment.” You pleaded.

Minho sighed heavily again. “The job was to kidnap you until the ransom had been paid and then kill you.” His eyes stayed glued to the floor, the unfamiliar feeling of shame overwhelming him.

“You lied to me!” Your outburst forced his gaze back to you, the image before him shattering the heart he always questioned having. Tears cascaded down your cheeks. Because of him. It felt so wrong. “I actually trusted you, but this whole time has been a lie!” Your sobs rang through the room. Minho’s chest ached for you. This was wrong.

Minho reached your side in a heartbeat. You jumped at his speed, trying to move away from him, but his hands grasped your shoulders to keep you in place. You refused to look at him, disgusted with yourself for being so foolish. “Y/n,” Minho started. You shook your head. You wanted nothing more to do with the monster in front of you. His hand gripped your jaw, gently forcing you to face him. “Y/n. Look at me.” Your eyes finally met his. Those inviting depths. You wanted to believe they could pull you in, keep you safe. Minho’s thumb wiped a tear off your cheek. “I am NOT going to hurt you.”

He pulled you into a hug, surprising you. His strong arms held you firm until the shaking in your shoulders calmed down. You felt his warm, calloused hands slide down your arms to your bound wrists. When did he remove his gloves? A frigid object sent another wave of panic through you before you realized he had only cut the rope from your wrists. He holds you for another moment before pulling away, hands remaining on your arms, his full attention on your face. “I did not lie to you. I will return you to your family.”

You should be relieved, but you only had more racing thoughts. This was his job. “So, you’re an assassin?”

The question pulled the corners of Minho’s lips up. “I am.” He shouldn’t continue, but he needed to regain your trust. “I come from a family of assassins.”

You let that sink in for a moment. “So, if you return me, you would have failed your job?” Minho gave a curt nod. “What will that mean for you?”

Minho paused, debating how to answer your question. “I have never failed a job before.” He stated matter of factly. “My family will never let me live it down, my reputation will take a huge hit.” He saw the emotion begin to rise in your eyes again. “But that doesn’t matter. I will return you home safely. I promise, Y/n.”

You nodded, believing his words. Your arms wrapped around him and you properly hugged. He held you firm, protectively. He smelled like cedar and you melted into his hold. “May I know your name?” You whispered into the soft skin at his neck.

His breath tickled your cheek and you felt him smile through his mask. He leaned back just slightly, just enough so that when he removed his mask you could get a good look at him. Wow. He was nothing like you had pictured assassins to look. Dark, cat-like eyes and defined cheek bones, soft petals for lips. He was beautiful.

You had a strong urge to cup his face, but resisted as you mentally kicked yourself for having such a thought. Instead, the man leaned in even closer, lips reaching yours in the faintest of kisses, just shy of actually being counted as one but exciting your body just the same. “Minho,” he whispered. “My name is Minho.”

“Minho.” You repeated before his lips finally met yours in a proper kiss. As he distracted you, you couldn’t stop your hand from finding his cheek, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. This seemed to please him, his own hands snaking around your waist and shoulders, holding you close.

The streets are quiet as the night blanketed the town. You could see your apartment around the corner, guards stationed at the door. You walked along the cobblestone street towards your home. Minho kept to the shadows, but you felt him watching you, making you feel safe.

When you came closer to the lamp in front of your apartment, you saw your father’s consigliere open the door as if he was leaving. “Y/n?“ He stopped in his tracks, shocked. You entered the light of the street lamp, greeting your father’s consigliere.

Minho watched you from the shadows. He didn’t plan to return home right away. He couldn’t shake the feeling of something still being off, and throughout the years, his instincts have always held true and kept him safe. So, he listened to them. He was perched on your rooftop, just like the night he took you when your scream reached his ears. His body reacting before his mind’s command as he swooped into your bedroom. There you were facing your father’s consigliere, a knife in the man’s hand pointed right at you. Minho lunged, gripping his own knife, the blade glistening in the moonlight, hungry for blood.

In a blink, the consigliere was on the ground, knife thrown across the room and Minho’s knife at his throat. “It was you.” Minho growled, everything clicking in his mind. “You posted the job on Y/n. You wanted her killed.” Minho pressed the knife into the man’s skin. A droplet of crimson formed, igniting the predator inside Minho. It took every ounce of his strength to not push further and finish the job, reminding himself that you were watching.

“This good-for-nothing brat doesn’t deserve her father’s riches.” The man spat, wincing as the knife cut even more. “Yes, I listed her as a rank 1 and was told the best assassin was assigned to the job.” Minho saw red. His muscles shake as he used every ounce of strength to hold himself back, but every word from the man made it more difficult a task. “Her death was ensured and guaranteed to not be traced back to me. And I’m guessing you’re the said assassin? Pathetic.”

Minho withdrew his knife long enough to punch the man in the jaw. “In the mafia world, you are closest to her father. You are practically family to her. She trusted you!” Another punch. You watched as Minho’s knuckles broke the man’s nose, blood cascading down his face. “Why list her death on the market?”

“Because,” the man choked, spitting blood. “With her out of the picture, her father may actually be able to focus on his work! He has a significant business to run.” He coughed, blood spattering on Minho’s mask. “Her mother was just as much as a distraction, so I had gotten rid of her as well.” At your gasp, Minho’s heart sank. “At least that assassin could finish the job!”

Minho leaned closer to the man’s face. From where you stood, you could no longer see either of their faces, but Minho’s aura was seething with rage. “What a worthless excuse for a human.” Minho hissed. “I will spend the rest of my life waiting to see you in hell.” And with that, Minho slit the man’s throat. He had purposely positioned his body so you couldn’t see the act.

Minho stood and you ran over to him. He held you tight, wanting to protect you from everything in this world, everything he was. “I need to leave.” He whispered into your hair. “The police will be here soon.”

“No,” you begged, unable to let him go. “Stay. Please.”

Minho tsked, pulling you away but keeping his hands on your shoulders. “Your family wouldn’t exactly approve of an assassin living amongst them.” Minho half-joked.

”Then take me with you.” You pleaded. You heard the faint sirens outside, you still had a moment before the police arrived. “I don’t want to stay here.”

“No.” Minho said, voice stern. “You have a life here. I can’t take you away from that.”

“Minho!” His eyes softened, searching yours as he waited for your next words. “My father arranged to have me married off.” Minho’s eyes widened and you noticed that rage swirling in their depths. “The dude is awful and my father doesn’t care that I’m unhappy. I have no life here. Please.”

The sirens grew closer, but you leaned forward, lips meeting his own as you desperately tried to share your unspoken words through the kids. You didn’t love the man you were to be married to. But you loved the man in front of you now. The one that took you away and kept you say. The one you trusted to do it all over again.

The deafening sirens were on your street. Minho reluctantly broke the kiss, lifting you into his arms and carrying you onto the balcony. He would do as you ask and take you far away. He knew both of your families would come looking for you two, but he wasn’t worried. For once, he was proud of what he was. Because what he was, the horrible skills that he has spent his entire life developing, he would now use to keep you safe. He was born this way so that you may be his, forever.

©𝗻𝗼𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗳𝗲𝗶 <𝟯 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻.