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iibonniee · 2 years

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omg that reaction was so cute could you do more husband! mx reactions when you have time in the future 🥹 god bless whoever requested that my heart is so fullll

Husband!Monsta X Scenarios (requested)

Genre: establish relationship

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

Shownu:

The clock hit midnight the second the front door clicked shut. As if his body knew, the exhaustion no longer hit in waves, but this time it was full force and at an ugly rate. He knew it was only a matter of time before he crashed.

His shoes were off in seconds, joining the rest of the shoes that were lined up. His next quest was to go to the bedroom for some much needed rest. The moment the living room was in view, his eyes found his wife’s sleeping figure.

The blanket was halfway to the floor and the pillow she had laid her head on was about to follow suit. His smile was sleepy as he took no longer than a second to reach her.

He knew the mess on the coffee table was a quick fix, but wanting to go to bed and have his wife with him seemed like a better priority. Fixing the pillow so her head was now underneath it, his next move was to squeeze on the couch with her, hoping to get a good night's rest.

“Hyunwoo?” His wife’s voice was soft as it met the silent air. He felt her move around in his arms, seemingly confused as she tried to wake up and adjust to everything.

“I’m here, you can rest now.” Hyunwoo’s voice was soft as he whispered to his wife. One eye was propped open to see her faint moonlit smile, prompting him to smile as well.

“Do you want to move to the bed? It might be more comfortable."

Though her offer seemed tempting, Hyunwoo knew that he had picked his poison the moment he laid on the couch with her.

“No, let’s have a sleepover out here.”

Minhyuk:

Rather than being greeted with a kiss and a “Welcome home, love”, Y/N was greeted with the strong smell of fresh paint and the humming of her lover, Minhyuk.

Her brows raised in slight confusion the more she inched into their new home. The once beautiful spruce wooden floor was now covered in a clear tarp that seemed to fall victim to the wet paint.

Y/N knew the song Minhyuk was humming. A catchy American oldy by Elvis. Even though their wedding was fresh, Y/N noticed how Minhyuk held onto every little detail from the wedding as long as possible. The song, “Can’t Help Falling in Love” was the song they chose to have their first dance together to, and if Minhyuk didn’t cry when he first saw her walking down the aisle, he certainly did when they had their first dance.

“I thought you were going to wait for me.” She felt bad for laughing the moment Minhyuk jumped in fear. Wild eyes met her own, his frown was soon replaced with a joyous smile.

“You can still join.” Minhyuk’s eyes held a spark of hope as he spoke, “I didn’t get much done, anyways.”

Moving deeper into the apartment, Minhyuk’s free hand was immediately held out for her own, desperately wanting her touch. Her fingers met his and he pulled her close, his lips meeting her cheek without a second thought.

“You know, I don’t think I would’ve done this with anyone else.” Minhyuk’s sentence caused her to raise a brow, her attention now fully on him.

“I sure fucking hope not, Lee Minhyuk.”

Kihyun:

It was the smell of earthy warmth - nutty, rich, with a hint of sour components and the same heaviness - that woke Y/N up from her deep sleep. Sitting up, she blinked against the harsh morning light, trying to think of what was being made.

Coffee.

Sitting up, her eyes glanced around the room, then drifted down to her lap. She noticed almost right away the lack of clothing. A soft blush formed on her face as the memories of last night came crashing down. The night was still fresh on her mind. A new home to make many memories in.

She stood up, quickly noticing how the cool air ate away at her skin. Looking around the room, her eyes landed on a stray white button-up shirt throwing it on as she ventured outside for the first time that morning.

The smell of coffee had her hooked as she made her way out of the room and down the hall. The new apartment felt almost foreign to her. Each inch of the apartment waiting to be a part of a new story.

“There you are.” Her voice was soft as she padded her way closer to him. “And he cooks? I think I married well.”

His chuckle was light as he heard her joking tone. Turning to glance at her, he shot her his own sleepy morning smile. Placing a quick peck on his cheek, she turned her attention to her awaiting coffee cup, the steam telling her it was just made.

“Good morning to you, as well. Breakfast will be done soon.” Kihyun hummed as she glanced at him. His smile was never fading even for this time of morning. “Your mom swung by earlier.”

This caused her to turn to him with a raised brow. It hadn’t been long since they returned from Jeju island and her mother was already coming around?

“What did she want?”

“She made us the cookies we like so much.”

This caused Y/N to slightly roll her eyes. She knew her mother a bit too well, and whether Kihyun was turning a blind eye to her mother's actions or not, she wouldn’t know.

“The cookies you like, Kihyun. You have my mother wrapped around your finger. I swear I don’t know how you exactly do it.”

“Does it matter as long as I do it for you?”

“I guess you make a good point.”

Hyungwon:

The bright smile Y/N held was undeniably adorable. Like a kid on Christmas morning, the smile lit up her eyes and he watched her look over the almost crowded hotel room. Her mouth was parted slightly in a mix of shock and happiness.

It had taken him almost four hours to make something as simple as a blanket fort.

Four hours of hoping she would be distracted long enough that he could fulfill this unspoken promise to her, so she could relive such a massive childhood event. He watched as she turned to him in excitement, her mouth opening and closing as she wasn’t sure of what to say.

“Hyungwon…” She finally spoke, tears brimming her eyes as she took another look at the pillow fort. “Did you do this?”

Hyungwon’s proud smile was massive as he nodded. He wasn’t going to deny he put so much effort into this for her.

“Go look inside.”

Listening to his words, she moved towards the parted blanket, glancing inside. Hyungwon watched as she looked around, her smile never leaving, even as her eyes fell on the pile of snacks right next to his dimmed laptop.

He was thrown off guard the second she threw her body at him, the both of them falling on the carpeted ground.

“I don’t deserve you.” She whispered, holding him close.

“Anything for my beautiful wife. We’ll ditch our dinner reservations for some pizza and soda. How’s that?”

“God, you read my mind.”

Jooheon:

“I understand that, but can’t we move the meeting until next Wednesday? I just got home from my honeymoon and I feel like jumping into meetings is just too much.”

The bubbling frustration mixed with her words well. It wasn’t even a day of being home before she was hounded with news of upcoming meetings and proposals. Her eyes found her lover's, who sat on the couch watching her where she stood.

The words of her assistant pulled her back to reality. Turning her attention away from her curious husband, her focus was now on the call. Just for a moment, she just wished someone could understand her situation.

It was just too soon.

Before the frustration became too much, a pair of arms that wrapped around her body were her saving grace. Glancing over at her other half, she watched as he placed his head on her shoulder.

“Is everything ok?” He whispered softly as his fingers softly massaged her skin.

“Work.” She whispered, trying to pay attention to her assistant.

At her answer, Jooheon’s face scrunched up in disappointment. His eyes snapped towards her phone and before she knew it her phone was in his hands.

“I think you should listen to her. We just got back from our honeymoon and she’s exhausted. Tomorrow is too soon for her to be worried about meetings. That’s all.”

Her eyes were wide as she watched him hang up with a triumphant smile. Turning to her with his dimpled smile forced a smile of her own.

“You didn’t need to do that, Joo…”

“I did,” He spoke, his arms reaching out to pull her close. “We just got back from the first seven days of the rest of our lives. Work can wait for another two.”

Changkyun:

It was roughly nine in the morning when the birds outside woke Changkyun up with their morning song. Turning on his side, Changkyun’s breath was caught in his throat at the sight of his wife. The morning sun allowed enough light to peek through the semi-parted curtains and onto her sleeping form.

The distance between their bodies was next to nothing, but he didn’t care. A smile slowly grew on his face as he reached out to brush the stray strands of hair from her face. Almost unbothered by such actions, he watched as his wife slowly smiled in her sleep.

Just two weeks ago, she gave him her love for the rest of their lives. Just one week ago, he was mesmerized by her smile while they walked around her dream vacation. Just this morning, he was taken aback by her beauty.

His fingers stilled at her slight movement, his breath once again caught in his throat, fearing that he had woken her up.

“Good morning, Mr. Im.” Her voice was soft as her e/c eyes finally opened to meet his own. She was greeted with his soft, love-filled smile.

“Good morning, Mrs. Im. I… I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Her answer was a tired head shake. He watched as she snuggled deeper into the white fluffy pillow, her tired smile never fading, “You didn’t wake me, baby. Your soft touch would’ve kept me in my sleep if I wasn’t so excited to spend another day with you.”

Wonho:

Hoseok remembered the first time he met Y/N. It was cliché. A simple accidental bump in and her apologizing profusely for such an accident. What surprised him the most was how she didn’t recognize him. To her he was a simple man amongst the sea of others.

He remembered how fast his heart raced as she gave him a smile. How he couldn’t allow her to leave in fear he’d never see her again. So, with a huff of courage, he asked for her number. He remembered how surprised she was, but regardless she gave it to him.

He remembered the courage he had built up for their first date. How well their first date went. He could remember each detail perfectly. How beautiful she looked under the moonlight and how her attention was simply on his.

Five beautiful years and he finally had the courage to ask her to be his wife.

He remembers each detail about their wedding night. How he didn’t care how stupid he looked if he cried as she walked down the isle. How her beauty was incomparable to anyone he has ever met. How she was his.

“I’m so happy with you, Mrs. Lee.” Hoseok whispered the moment he was able to wrap his arms around his wife.

Her giggles were like music to his ears. His favorite song in all of the world.

“And I’m so happy with you, Mr. Lee.”

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amelee23 · 1 year

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Ally | Optional Bias

Pairing: Optional Male Bias x Female Reader (but! the characters are drinking whiskey so both the bias and the reader must be of legal drinking age.)

Genre: Fluff, slightly suggestive (?)

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Sharing whiskey from mouth to mouth, french kissing, they're way too in love with each other and everything is super poetically dramatic, they're super supporting and praise each other a lot, reader has nasty coworkers, nicknames like warrioress, queen, love, darling

Word count: 1.579

A/N: This was Kihyun brainrot (Monsta X) but I wrote it as optional bias so that everyone can enjoy it :) Let me know who you imagined in the story!

Light invaded the apartment as soon as the switch was hit. Throwing his suit jacket on the back of the couch, your man pulled his tie loose while heading straight to his high cupboard in the back of the kitchen. That's where he kept the whiskey.

"I wonder if they ever get tired of being so goddamn fake." Your anger was still aparent, turning your words cold and harsh.

"I cannot understand where people's priorities lie, honestly." He backed you up, his voice on the verge of achieving calmness, but not quite there yet. He was still irritated, and the two clear glasses clinked as he set them down on the low height table next to the couch. He opened the whiskey bottle and poured himself a shot, straight. A tiny sip was all it took for him to sigh, a hand running through his hair and leaving it messy on his forehead.

You were finally faced with such a great opportunity - you and your boyfriend had the opening to collaborate on a work project, putting your talents to great use and his just as much. It was something that left both of you sparkling with joy and excitement, but we all know life has it's ways to mess things up. Now you're sitting in his kitchen, angry and exhasperated because your workmates seem to be sabotaging you. Insulting your ideas, finding inexistent flaws in your work ethic and twisting your words until you were about to commit murder if your boyfriend didn't stop you. You've been mumbling, scheming with him the whole night, planning ahead of how to take the project back into your hands properly. He agreed with your every word, anger and stress consuming him just as much. He invited you to his place so that you two could unwind after the events and try to distract yourselves. Many people called you crazy, considering that you haven't dated him long, just a few months - but no man has ever made you feel this supported, this heard before. You went from friends to lovers specifically because you've never felt such a strong trust bond with anyone, and even if it turned out to doom you later - he felt worth the risk. That's what your heart said, damned be your mind.

You took a deep breath. It's okay, it's going to be okay. You're gonna make it through, gonna put things back on track. You believed in your power and his combined - the cruel ocean and the unstoppable wind mashing together in a tsunami, ready to swallow and drown any opposing structures.

Once your eyes landed on his, you couldn't part them. He was so raw, so disheveled, in the dim light coming all the way from the kitchen. His tie was barely hanging on to the white collar dress shirt, the first button undone to let the chill creep to his chest. One knee was risen on the couch, his wrist resting on it, fingers round his whiskey glass. He wasn't paying attention to you, looking down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. Absentmindedly, he raised the glass to his lips to take a sip, and that's when his eyes flicked up and found your shape across the room. He gulped shortly and smiled, his face warming up despite the piercing cold glare he had in his eyes seconds ago.

"I'm sorry, darling." He cooed sweetly. "Should I have poured you a glass too?" You smiled back at him, taking the necessary steps to reach him.

"No, yours will do." He rose an eyebrow at your answer, but the warmth never left his face. He was awfully curious, though. "Keep your mouth open." You told him, grabbing the whiskey glass from in between his legs. He had a questioning look on now, as he watched your every movement.

You took a large amount of whiskey in your mouth then laid the glass back on the table. It sure packed a punch, its sweet taste almost nauseating, you could feel the burn even if you never swallowed. You kept the whiskey in your mouth as you crawled over him - he helped you settle in his lap, your form towering over his, your lips just above his. Playful, his tongue darted to lick your lips, before he slightly parted his and allowed you to the same, the whiskey slipping into his mouth drop by drop. He moaned, and it was as if he was calling upon the angels, in such a sinful situation. The whiskey burned his tongue, his throat, as he swallowed against your mouth, and you did the same. It was strong, too strong, intoxicating you much more than a normal drink should; and it wasn't the alcohol's fault. You both wanted more, searching for remnants of that sweet taste on each other's tongues. But it wasn't rough or rushed, no, you somehow still had the patience to be slow and sensual, your taste buds both burning and exploding. Gently, you kissed the drop of liquid that escaped the corner of his lips, before it became burdensome due to stickiness.

"Your kisses burn my throat, darling." He mused poetically, his eyes dazed but trying his best to look into your eyes, like he was hanging on the edge.

Something sparked inside of you, and suddenly your fingers were holding his face, the side of his neck, anything they could to pull him closer to your mouth, kissing him, but not gently. No, not anymore - now you were hungry, there was a fire in your soul, an ache only he could fix. He was hanging onto you for dear life, his fingers grasping at your hips. He wanted to pull you closer, but was there even a closer to pull you into? You were already living inside him, his mind, his heart, his soul. And god, he loved it when you ravished him, those moments when he forgets he wasn't yours ever since time began to exist. Because it feels right, it feels like that's actually how it is, how it always has been. He's yours.

You had no more air in you lungs when you pulled away, but you were both so happy. So, so happy to just breathe, foreheads glued to each other, warmth traveling every ounce of your bodies.

"I want this to last forever." He whispered to you, his lips moving close to your cheek, his breath tickling you.

"Sharing whiskey in the dim light?" You joked innocently, tipping his chin up with a finger, so he'd look straight into your eyes. Those eyes, they will be the end of him from the way they bewitch him.

"As much as I'd love to be drunk on you forever, no." He replied to your joke, a smirk creeping on both your faces. "This intensity. This alliance." He gave you the real answer, but this time he was quite solemn. "I never thought I'd ever feel so safe with another human being." It's like he's reading your mind. For a second, you ponder if you are even separate being to begin with. You were so eager to tell him you feel the exact same, but he kept talking and you didn't want to interrupt him. "God, I feel like I can win any goddamn fight life throws at me with you by my side." You caressed his face with your thumb, gifting him a look that could only be described as pure love. "And I'll be damned if I don't help you win every fight as well."

"You'll fight for me?" He hummed in response at your quiet voice, closing his eyes in delight at your gentle touches. But then, he reached out to also hold your face in his hands. You were a mess of tangled arms, but the moment was sincere.

"My love, my warrioress, my queen, you're so powerful."

It's not that you were going to argue, but part of it was also because of him. He was empowering you, the was giving wind behind your wings on a daily. You've been more powerful, invincible even, since he showed up in your life.

"I am?" You cooed, and he answered in a single breath, without thinking.

"Yes."

"How powerful?" You asked, a glint of mischief in your eyes. You were getting a little cocky from the praise, but he wasn't bothered. He pondered for a second, in search of the right words, but the smile he wore was fond.

"So powerful that anyone would have to be crazy to cross you." You laughed, memories of the messy evening flooding back to you. Maybe you were a little too harsh on your colleagues. Maybe. "So powerful that every day I yearn to become stronger and better myself, so that I can stand next to you as an ally and be deserving of your love and effort."

"You deserve it all, my love." You reassured him, caressing him, pecking his face softly.

"I want to be your ally forever." He repeated, and you nodded.

"Me too. I'd love that." He softly pulled you into his chest, and you melted in between his arms, your ears getting closer to the sound of his heartbeat, the melody of his love beating for you. He held you so close, so dear, and the safety of your presence allowed him to close his eyes, and behind his eyelids he dreamt of forever.

If you want to support me, you can do so on my Ko-Fi!

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lubbuub · 2 years

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9:03pm

slowly unzipping the back of your dress, kihyun watched as it fell to the floor, revealing the soft pink lingerie you had under. quietly watching your every move, thoughts of fucking you in every damn position ran through his mind. he really wanted to take you right then, and there bent over that table the way you were looking tonight at dinner with his family..

watching you disappear into the bathroom, he followed behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, planting gentles kisses along your shoulders.

now you, watching his every move through the bathroom mirror, watched as his hands traveled all over your body feeling on your imperfections, worshiping you, and making any insecurities you have fade away.

"you're perfectly made for just me."

you felt a hand on your back as your chest hit the cold sink. hearing the sound of your boyfriend unbuckling the belt of his suit pants, and your hair being pulled back to make direct eye contact with your man.

"scream as loud as you want, I want the whole building to know who's fucking you this good"

#monsta x smut #changkyun #hyungwon #jooheon #kihyun #minhyuk #shownu #monsta x #monsta x x reader #monsta x imagines #kihyun x reader #monsta x drabble #kihyun smut #kihyun imagine

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lunetual · 1 year

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♡ HAPPY CHANGKYUN DAY ♡ happy happy birthday to monsta x’s forever maknae, who despite turning 27 years old and fully being an adult, is still undoubtedly regarded by his hyungs as not-quite-grown-up yet. wishing him a lovely day and an even lovelier year as he so very much deserves!!

quick cc note: hehe here we goooo! buckle in we’re in for a long ride etc. you’re all used to this by now! changkyun is so very dear to me in such a specific way where i can’t think about him for too long or i’m at risk of crying. you know? he occupies such a particular place within the group and in my heart.

i definitely don’t claim to know what’s going on behind the scenes or pretend to exactly understand anyone’s state of mind except my own... but doesn’t changkyun seem lighter these days? i think in general changkyun loves the stage and loves music, and you can always tell that. he’s always been happy when he’s out there under the stage lights all mic’d up. but this past promotional period he has seemed so relaxed and happy and comfortable like he has been GLOWING!! that impossibly charming silliness that sometimes shows itself has been spilling out of him!!! and it makes me so so happy because he deserves that! like doesn’t it do your heart good to see him thriving!!

i have such a soft spot for him for a myriad of reasons but one of them is that it’s because i know that so much of this job kind of goes. against his instincts?? alkf;alsk. changkyun is by nature, so reserved a lot of the time and a lot of an idol’s job requires you to have your on switch flipped at all times. he himself has talked about it, how it doesn’t seem like a job suited for him and yet... it IS his job and it DOES suit him. and in a lot of ways, i think how introverted he is helps at his job, in that he is able to expend his energy when needed and ride that high, and then knows how to regroup and recover within himself. he’s talked about the come down from the rush of being on stage and how it’s a peculiar and acute loneliness, and how actually, he doesn’t mind it. that it’s something that you need to feel.

changkyun is just so thoughtful and introspective. i think he’d be such a good conversation partner. from now on when people ask that icebreaker question that’s like. which three people dead or alive would you want to have dinner with... i’m naming changkyun as one of the answers. i really admire the way that he can sit with his emotions and acknowledge them, and at the same time, the way that he’s like. fake it til you make it!!! like. so true king. me too. sometimes you just have to keep telling yourself that you’re fine and you just keep saying it and keep saying it until it’s true.

he’s a bundle of contradictions. he gives off this cool and fierce image while being so, so sweet to the bone, the group’s resident romantic. he quietly watches his groups antics from the side except for when his goofy sense of humor bursts out of him. he cares fiercely, so fiercely about what his people think of him — and nothing at all for his naysayers’ words. he’s incredibly introverted but loves standing in front of the crowd under the spotlight. :):

i think all the time about how changkyun really maintains a strong sense of self in an industry where it can be really hard, really brutal to do so. here are the things that stand out to me, especially: he is considerate of others, and endlessly patient with those he cares about. (thinking of: him sleeping in his studio for kihyun’s solo debut to make sure he didn’t disturb the sparse amount of sleep kihyun was getting. the way he always indulges hyungwon when hyungwon asks him to check his eyes.) he was raised with an appreciation for music and art and it shows so clearly in his identity as an artist. and along with that, growing up in a few different countries when he was younger gave him maybe a more international mindset than he would have had otherwise. he is honest in his music. he knows his worth and will make the decision that’s best for him, even when those decisions may not come easily.

i’m so excited for the future for him. like changkyun, i also believe that good times and bad times must both exist, and that one will naturally follow the other. but i hope that for him the good times always last longer than the bad ones, and that inner light that’s been shining from him keeps on dazzling us all.

im changkyun!!! i admire who you choose to be every day!! i’m really proud of you and the way you’ve had your cake and eaten it too, leaving the company and staying committed to the group and the members you love so much. i can’t wait for your solo ventures to come, i can’t wait for the group activities to come, i just can’t wait to see what comes next. this year i hope you stay happy, stay smiling. i hope you keep on betting on yourself, because you will never, never lose when you do. with all the love and support, always. rooting for you, cheering for you. with you every step of the way.

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miabebe · 2 years

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Monsta X as Mafia

An insight into the Monsta X Mafiaverse.

TW - mentions of blood, violence, weapons, crime and death

| Trailer | Masterlist |

Name: Changkyun

Streetname: The Wolf, I.M

Youngest of them all but incredibly respected - his combat strategy is unparalleled.

Runs an organization called Tartarus which is a huge army of security forces who are trained for assassination and combat. (Rumour has it that he has over 2,600 men working under him.)

Tartarus has a signature way of assassination - one slit each on both wrists - it’s said that Changkyun adapted this style after his father was killed like that when he was 15.

No one other than the Syndicate knows what he looks like - true to his name, he operates from the shadows.

A quiet leader, fiercely loyal and a mystery to all - no one knows what’s going through his mind.

He never stores any information on computers and other devices - this is to make it hard to trace him or decode his strategy.

Characteristic style is to wear only black suits - ‘black hides all stains - of dirt and of blood.’

Has the largest collection of guns but doesn’t really like any of them, instead he always carries the small revolver his sister gave him – he’s an excellent marksman and is known to never miss his target.

Alcohol is his weakness - he has a taste for different kinds of liquor and spends time drinking not-so-quietly with Jooheon.

Name: Hyungwon

Streetname: The Infiltrator, H.One

A one-man army - he refuses to work with or under anyone else

Excellent hacker – he can penetrate any and all kinds of security. He knows the dark web like the back of his hand, and plays with the Stock Exchange like it’s no big deal.

His day job is as a freelance website designer, he likes to work in the comfort of his home and at his own pace and time so he’s very selective about his clients.

The Syndicate never really knows where he is or what he is up to - very less is known about his personal life and interests, he keeps pretty much to himself.

He’s tall, broad, dresses in long coats often and is incredibly good looking - women are often all over him but doesn’t really seem very interested in them, almost as if he is looking for a particular someone.

He’s known to have traveled the world and knows at least 6 languages fluently - it allows him to impersonate various identities on the dark web when he needs to.

Like Changkyun he is also very quiet, but much less brooding and can also be uncharacteristically funny.

Hyungwon, Kihyun and Minhyuk were best friends since they were children - though he seems to constantly be at war with Kihyun over his stock exchange shenanigans, he would give his life up for that man and likewise.

His weakness is designer clothing - he only wears and carries the best of brands.

Name: Kihyun

Streetname: Green Man, Ki

Currently the richest man in the Syndicate - he owns a chain of banks in the city and does money laundering for a high commission

He’s quite the workaholic - spends almost all his time in his office because he trusts very few people and prefers to do most of the work himself.

When he’s not working, he’s usually working out - loves boxing in his free time, a hobby he picked up from Jooheon.

Likes to come across as very prim - always dresses in neatly ironed shirts, glasses and with his hair smoothly gelled back but appearances can be deceiving - he is the most brutal of them all.

A meticulous, control freak and very serious about commitments - cheating him can often result in deadly consequences - he carries a cigar cutter which is often known to claim the middle fingers of his offenders.

Has a large social circle because of the nature of his work but has very few true friends, Minhyuk and Hyungwon being the top of the list.

Is often listed in magazines and papers as an influential businessmen and is also particularly well known for charity work and donations (perhaps a ruse for tax benefits)

Has been in love with an heiress since his college days and is incredibly loyal to her - he has not even looked another woman in the eye since they got together.

Has a deep interest in automobiles with an underground car park of 3 floors with the rarest and most expensive car collection.

Name: Minhyuk

Streetname: The Phantom, Gorae

Owns multiple clubs and casinos around Seoul called The Phantom’s Cavern. They are luxury hot-spots with exclusive and high-profile clients.

Offers his clubs and casinos as a prime location for drug and flesh trade - while traders pay him commission to sell in his space, customers pay his exuberant entry fees over and over again to buy their addictions - he makes money in all possible ways.

Sweet talker, knows just what to say and who to approach to keep the law away from his business.

While everyone in the Syndicate was in the Mafia because of their family, Minhyuk is the only self-made man because of his wit and risk taking ability.

Has no respect for hierarchy and will backstab anyone for his own personal gain. (The only person he respects enough is Shownu.) Often disregards the rules of the Syndicate, messing with other mafia groups, but he is incredibly adept in escaping, like a Phantom.

Despises drugs or alcohol, he says they make a man weak and unaware of what’s happening around him - he survives pretty much on Red Bull.

Stays away from violence and does not like using the gun like most of his accomplices - he does however carry a small knife for self-defence but so far, he’s not had to use it.

Has a very eccentric dressing sense - often wears flashy accessories and he loves precious metal and stones, wears rings of all sizes on his hands.

His weakness is women - known to be an absolute womanizer, very charming and flirtatious.

Name: Jooheon

Streetname: Sabertooth, Honey

Isn’t the youngest but is often treated so because his father, the KingPin, has not handed his business over to him.

Half brother of Shownu whom he loves and respects very much, despite his father having a clear preference of his older son.

Jooheon’s family is one of the few Mafia families to survive in the Wipe Out, a big police operation that happened in 2010 where most mafia groups were prosecuted and the remaining were forced underground.

Jooheon's family mass produces and distributes firearms all over Korea and the world, even to many military bases (of course, illegally).

Jooheon though has no hand in the family business and lives life like the spoilt child he is, often running into trouble with the law. He is also very addicted to online gambling and often runs into debts.

He has a bulky, muscular body that comes to his advantage when he boxes - he often participates in the fight club, at times getting very badly injured but continues to enter the ring nevertheless.

He is also famous for his gold canine, which earned him his nickname, because he often leaves a trademark bite on his opponents in a fight.

He is particularly good at chemistry and after spending much of his college days in Changkyun’s hideout, he studied and developed new kinds of drugs.

He’s an absolute romantic at heart and believes one day, he will find true love, whatever that is.

Name: Hyunwoo

Streetname: The Rook, Shownu

Older son of the Kingpin but takes his mother’s maiden surname 'Son' since he is illegitimate.

Despite his father wanting him to take over his family business, Hyunwoo believes that Jooheon is the right heir.

Only one in the Syndicate who has a son - does not wish to be leader as he wants to be there for his son in ways his father was never there for him.

Unlike the rest, he does not live in huge mansions or flaunt a luxury living, he and his family live in a simple home away from the city, no one knows why.

Owns an import and export company which transports all sorts of legal and illegal goods - Flesh trade is off limits for Hyunwoo though.

Despite not officially taking over his father’s position as KingPin, he is truly seen and respected as a leader by the rest of the Syndicate due to his calm and wise nature.

Though the word is that Kihyun is the most brutal, rumor is that should Hyunwoo really bring his violent side out, there would be annihilation, however he's never been in a conflict.

The company very quickly grew because while most had to talk or pay their away out of the hands of the law, Hyunwoo was rarely ever suspected because of his seemingly innocent nature.

Spent much of his younger days doing extortion, but after his son was born, he opened his company to stay away from danger.

Hyunwoo’s weakness is hunger - the hunger to achieve anything he wants often drives him to become agitated, and can sometimes make him lose sight and direction - if Hyunwoo wants something, then he wants it, he won’t rest till his hunger is satiated.

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heisthetypeof · 1 year

Text

─•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•─The digital clock standing across the room was the only source of light in the bedroom. The silence was interrupted once in a while by the squeaky sound of the bed frame when Kihyun was changing his position. It was around 1 AM when you sneaked out of the bed. It was not easy to free yourself from Kihyun's arms. You pulled on the fuzzy socks you received from him along with the silky-smooth set of pajamas.

"Something pretty, for me to enjoy and something thoughtful to keep you warm and healthy." He said with a smirk, sitting comfortably on the couch while you were sitting next to him on the carpet. The Christmas tree in the corner.

You smiled softly at the memory. Ever since then, with each gift you received from him, there was a pair of fuzzy socks. You looked over your shoulder at your sleeping boyfriend before you got up. Slowly, so you would not wake him up. He did not even have the strength to take a shower, just went straight to bed.

It was a rough day for him. Photoshoots, dance classes, hours spent in the studio; recording. Waking him up was the last thing you wanted to do, even though you felt pretty lonely and needed someone to talk to.

You padded towards the kitchen, leaving the door to your bedroom slightly open. You picked up Kihyun's hoodie that he left in the kitchen and put it over the thin top of your pj's. It smelt more like him than his cologne and you were thankful for it.

You put the kettle on and took your favorite mug out of the cabinet along with your favorite tea that helped your mind slow down. Lately, you were under a lot of pressure and even though Kihyun was always there for you, supporting you like the perfect boyfriend he is, you could not bring yourself to burden him. Especially now, before their comeback.

You opened your diary and started writing as you were waiting for the water to boil. You draw small hearts and dozens of smiley faces. The diary brought back good memories of how you met, but the pleasant feeling of reminiscing did not last long.

A few days ago you saw this TikTok edit with the boys and babies. The way Kihyun reacted to the baby's voice, broke your heart. It was too soon to think about starting a family, but was your relationship serious enough to tell him?

Your mind was clouded with all the possible reactions you could get from him. You did not realize that you were drawing a little family until the kettle started whistling. You jumped off the chair to turn the stove off, so the boiling water would not wake up Kihyun. You took the mug with you to the living room. The plan was to watch a few episodes of your favorite TV series in hope that your brain will get tired and hopefully muster the courage to confess to Kihyun about the tubal ligation.

──•❥◆❥•──

You woke up to the gentle touch on your cheek. The screen of the TV was turned on but it was still dark enough for you to jump away from the person who was crouching in front of you. The nightmare was vivid in your mind.

"Sh… Sh… it's just me, snowflake." Kihyun whispered, getting up when you no longer were trying to scoot away from him. "Why are you sleeping on the couch?" He quizzed, taking the spot next to you. Kihyun grabbed a few pillows and a blanket as he got comfortable.

"I could not sleep, so I made myself a cup of tea and turned on the TV here so I wouldn't wake you up." You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes to get rid of the drowsiness and laid back down, hugging yourself with the blanket that he covered your bare legs with.

"Why are you up?"

"I turned around in the bed and you were not there." He answered, following your suits and resting his head against your thighs. It did not take long for him to start snoring again. You reach down your body to play with his hair as you resume watching the series.

"Telling you this will be one of the most frightening things for me to do." You said softly as you played with his black, greasy hair. "We met under odd circumstances. The beginning of our relationship was not easy and we are still learning how to make it work, but I have always believed that communicating is the key." You scoffed at yourself because here you are talking to your unconscious boyfriend instead of facing the problem while he is not asleep. "I believe that I should have told you this at the very beginning." Your voice began to break. "I can not have kids…" You muttered, squeezing your eyes to prevent the tears from falling. " …and it is not because I was born infertile. It was my decision." You have bitten your tongue.

Now, you only have to say the same thing again when he is awake. You took a moment to admire his face, how at peace he looked. His lips slightly parted, looking so soft and lonely. You felt a bit more courageous so you lent forward, banding in an awkward way to press a kiss against his forehead. "I love you."

The silence was comforting, especially when his arms were wrapped tightly around your thigh. Once again you were left alone with your thoughts, but not for too long.

"I know." Kihyun rubbed his cheek against your thigh as he played with the drawstring of your fuzzy sock.

"I want you, blossom. All of you." His voice is low and husky, startling you. Kihyun's arm tightens its grip around your thigh as he pressed his lips against your skin. "I am confident that you just need more time to grow into that role, with the way you are looking at kids." His eyes remained closed as he drew small hearts against your knee. "You see. I have done a little research about the whole tubal ligation. One out of two hundred women can get pregnant. We can always adopt or not. I see how you are looking at kids and how gentle you are with them. I want that. I want to witness it happening here in our house but if that's not something you do not want we can always get a puppy. They are as clumsy and cute as kids." He chuckled and tilted his head back to look at you.

His look was gentle, filled with love, something you were not expecting to see, as well as you were not prepared to have this conversation right away.

"But you want to have kids. I don't want to take it away from you."

"Blossom, I don't want it to take you away from me. We have never talked about it and it is not like we had the chance to experience what it is like." Kihyun rolled onto his front and crawled up the couch to hover above you. "I am in love with you."

─•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•─

Changkyun

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#he is the type of #heisthetypeof #monsta x #monbebe #kihyun imagines #kihyun fluff #kihyun scenarios #kihyun fanfic #kihyun #kihyun angst

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1997yakul · 5 months

Text

chapter 3: The Wolf

Men With Cold Exteriors and Kind Hearts, Among Other Great Sights

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥

summary: After getting a handle on things at your new job and putting your deposit down on your first apartment, you finally feel like you're proving your worth to the adult world. Only, is your catlike, hot, new boss (that smells too good) going to be an issue? Or, will it be the buff, delicate-mannered, heavy lifter that somehow just became your roommate? Either way-- this is fine, everything's okay, because you're grown now and you can figure it out....

Right?

(masterlist) ☆ (monsta x masterlist)

.｡.:*♡ Pairing: boss!changkyun x gender neutral reader ('pretty girl' is used once…sorry I simply couldn’t resist)

Word Count: 5.4k (chap1, chap2, chap3)

✧ Tags: chose your ending!, angst, humor, kissing, swearing, almost sexy time, absolutely broken changkyun iykyk, self doubt/worry/fear, alcohol consumption

✧ Notes: changkyun's ending !!! yippee enjoy

initially published on ao3 on july 11 2023

✩ fic is below the cut! enjoy ✩

Right as the door shuts, you wag your finger repeatedly at Hyunwoo and he throws his arms up in an accusing manner, bobbing his head saying “He did not hear me!” before getting interrupted with your hand clamping over his mouth.

“He literally turned around! And you are too loud! Still!” He laughs, backing out of your hand.

✱

Kihyun and Chaeyoung meet you at the bus stop the Monday after and are cracking up at videos they took of each other at karaoke. There’s a small pang of sadness, courtesy of FOMO.

And then it swallows itself with warmth at the memory of a ride home from Changkyun.

Sitting alone in the seat across from them, you ask to see the videos. Kihyun is belting out some sad ballad and Chaeyoung is recording, creating a very unstable video that trembles with each one of her bouts of laughter.

Kihyun’s eyes widen after you share some of your night with Changkyun to them. Chaeyoung gasps, huddling close and in a hushed voice says, “No, dude— you’re literally dating at this point.” She points to you, shaking her head slowly. Kihyun agrees, mumbling about how shocked he is that anyone could get Changkyun to loosen up.

“I don’t know, I think we are like… friends now. He told me to call him by his first name.” You say, fumbling with a zipper on your bag. Kihyun and Chaeyoung laugh, shocked beyond words. “I’m serious! I’ll show you, I swear.”

By the time you arrive at work with Kihyun and Chaeyoung, Changkyun is in his office, only the top of his head visible upon entry to the floor. It’s the first time since he transferred here that you’ve come in and the shades have been drawn open on his office windows. His head ducked down so you can only see the slicked black hair slide down the back of his nape, feathering out before the collar of his shirt. He wears this grayish suit, a shade of purple peeks from under his ironed suit jacket. It’s powerful, maybe a muted prussian. The light enters the office from behind him, a window perfectly positioned for a view of the entrance. You’re sure it comes with a direct line of vision to his car. You wonder if Changkyun is one of those men that calls his car his ‘baby’ and boasts about it to other higher-ups using explicitly feminine terms in a grimy sort of fashion. You hope he doesn’t. You decide definitely not, but eventually remind yourself that men always seem to; slowly but surely— ease you into their very secretive misogynistic tendencies only after you’ve started really getting to know them. You’ve had your fair share of Tinder dates fall off the deep end because it turned out that ‘non-political’ just means ‘extremely right leaning, but I know if I set it as this I would get absolutely zero pussy. I’m compromising. Surprise! Let’s talk about Ben Shapiro for an hour at this janky pizza place.’ But, he’s certainly not like that… Well… Okay. Chill out. You don’t really know him, stop assuming. This is what happens when you let yourself indulge in your imagination.

You sit down, logging into your computer and clocking in. Chaeyoung says something about waiting for your ‘bestie’ to pop over, and just as she finishes her sentence, the door to Changkyun’s office swings open. He kicks down the door stopper and makes a b-line to your desk. Chaeyoung scrambles to sit down in time, gripping at her arm rests and accidentally launching a pen into the air.

It falls to the carpeted floor with a sad patter at Changkyun’s feet, a shiny pair of black oxford’s. He presses the toe of his shoe on the tip of the pen, flicking it up. He leans over and grabs it midair, his thumb and palm envelope it. Without ever looking Chaeyoung in the eye, he sets it on her desk. “Good morning.” She mumbles out, “Thank you, Mr. Im.”

He turns, laying his forearm along the divider between your cubicle and Chaeyoung’s. “Hello.” He greets, leaning over a little to meet your eye level better.

Your heart fills your chest, thumping hard enough that it reaches your ears. You swallow hard and turn to him. “Hi, Changkyun.”

He cocks his head a little, straightening up and adjusting his sleeve around his wrist. “Mr. Im, right?” He smiles, it’s a little too proud, and now you feel weak again. Kihyun’s expression grows weary. “Can you follow me to my office?” Suddenly, the calm sound of hushed voices and rustling papers halts, and a few heads turn to face you and Changkyun. Your mouth feels dry, and your palms begin to sweat.

“Sure, Mr. Im.” You stand slow, waiting for him to back up a little so you have more room to move— but he just holds his ground. You shuffle around your spinny chair until he starts making his way to his office, then you shove the chair aside and glance at your friends. They are both making crazy eyes, and Kihyun offers a shrug. You shake your head unknowingly.

“Close the door behind you, please.” He says, his voice always grumbling lowly, and you follow his cologne like it comes with a leash. He gives his shades a few twists, just to give a little more privacy. The room gets darker, and he pulls out the chair for you. “So,” he points to your seat before fixing his belt. He leans on the side of his desk, his name plaque new and shiny, gold. “I was wondering if you had any ideas for a company outing.”

“This isn’t about me calling you by your first name?”

He blinks a little dumbly before glancing out the windowed door, heads fire back to their computers at his silent command. “No, I mean. That too, but this means more to me.” He feels up and down his right arm. “Don’t call me that in the office, I’d prefer if we kept it formal at work, you know…” His eyebrows thread together, fighting as he tries to find the right words. “Please.”

You nod, two times very firmly. “Company outing, um…” Checking over to your right, Kihyun and Chaeyoung are peering over their dividers at you. “Well I know some employees really like karaoke.” He nods in agreement, his fingers brushing softly at the tip of his nose.

“And that would be fun, for everyone to go do karaoke?”

“Maybe, like, eat and then do karaoke? Just so it’s an easier warm up.”

He nods, motioning to the door. “Okay, thank you. I’ll take that into consideration.” You stand up, kind of bug eyed, and push the chair back in, leaving with your hands close to your sides. You let the door close quietly before speed walking back to your cubicle. Kihyun and Chaeyoung both lean in to hear what happened, and you wave them off, peeking back at Changkyun. He is nervously pacing around his office, his face adorning a stern, thoughtful look.

✱

It doesn’t take long for the plans to become final, Changkyun sets up a company outing for that Friday, saying it will boost morale and help him get to know everyone better.

Changkyun is about four shots in when he says he is done drinking. He’s got a red flush across his nose bridge and cheeks, and his jaw is looser than usual, not clenched or as serious as he usually keeps it. He says something along the lines of… “Finish this on your own, this is the best I’ll feel all night” or “This is the end for me, I’m perfectly tipsy.” You can’t exactly recollect the wording, but it does something to your stomach nonetheless. The IT guy who sits next to Changkyun laughs hard, obviously more drunk. He unbuttons the top two buttons on Changkyun’s shirt, saying it’s too hot for him to still be wearing his full suit. Changkyun agrees sheepishly, wiggling off his jacket and folding it over the back of his chair.

He runs his hands from his forehead to the crown of his head, stopping there for a moment to scratch a little at his scalp. His mouth fills up with hot air, releasing it through his nose. He rubs his knuckles over his top lip, catching any sweat forming and leans back in his chair. The front legs lift off the ground ever so slightly, and he unbuttons the third button of his shirt on his own. He grabs at the bottom of his papery button up and tugs firmly a few times, enough to get fresh air. His cologne trickles down the table, it’s warm now, usually cold. Humid, and slightly tepid. The room smells of alcohol and heat. Stuffy and masculine. Kihyun and Chaeyoung pass you a shot each, and you take them before your brain can conjure up a reason not to.

The guy sitting across from Changkyun laughs heartily before getting his words out, pointing a hand up in the air. “I have an idea.” He is as drunk as one could get, hiccuping embarrassingly between syllables. “Let’s just do, uhm… let’s all play Smash or Pass.” Changkyun wordlessly shakes his head ‘No,’ lifting an arm from his lap onto the table.

“I organized this, thanks to Y/N” Changkyun starts, his words soft and tender, hand movements flow wistfully. “This was meant to be a way for me to get to know you guys a bit better, I don’t want—”

“Okay, we all know who you’re smashing!” Someone shouts out from your end of the table, and Changkyun shouts back before he can process what he is getting himself into.

“Who would that be!?” He points at the guy asking, his eyebrows uneven and mouth loose. It’s quiet for a second, and Changkyun scans up and down the table to see if anyone really has the gall.

“Y/N.” Someone says obtusely, it’s a statement rather than a question or a suggestion, and a few other people laugh in agreement. Now the table has a weird air of uncomfortableness as people wait for Changkyun or you to respond. The only reason it’s not unbearably awkward is because you can assume not many people will remember this tomorrow. Chaeyoung laughs the absolute hardest, and Kihyun grabs at her shoulders to calm her down. Your body freezes, mid-sip and you blink once, eyes shifting to Changkyun.

His face slowly droops, eyebrows furrowing in a hurt way.

“You couldn’t get mamas in your dreams!!!” Chaeyoung yells, grabbing a wad of dirty napkin and throwing it limply in his direction. Her cry jumpstarts the ruckus once more. The tissue barely makes it an inch towards him, and he only evinces a weak snarl, recoiling ever so slightly.

“Chaeyoung!” You shout, setting down your glass hard enough that it splashes in the cup. “Stop that!” You are tipsy too, and the words can’t come like they would if you weren’t. You feel limp and defeated, and Changkyun’s expression is heartbreaking.

His jaw juts out slightly, his cheeks hollowing as he thinks, and the table grows quiet once again. His eyes scan back and forth down the table at the plates and glasses, shaking his head in disapprovement. “That is…” He stands up, pushing his chair back and stumbling around in his spot, the girl next to him puts her hands up to protect herself as he stabilizes, rocking back and forth slightly between his wobbly legs. He bites at his lip, finally scanning the faces at the table until he meets your eyes. You weren’t thinking about your expression before now, but from his reaction you can tell it was obviously some form of disgust. He shakes his head, “I’m really so sorry.” He says, and a few other people mumble out apologies around you.

He stands up, grabbing something from his pockets as he pushes the exit door open, and the table is met with the most awkward silence you have ever experienced. Two girls whisper amongst themselves, standing up and walking to the bathroom together. Tears spring just slightly at your eyes when you realize the importance of what just happened, and the effect it will certainly have on Changkyun and your friendship. The nice buzz is just setting in, and you stand up and force yourself to follow him out.

“Hi.” You say, gentle as you let the door fall closed behind you. His wide shoulders greet you before he can turn around, the few clicks of a lighter sound out before he turns to face you. A cool gust of wind passes you both by, and his shirt flaps harshly against his chest, his hair ruffled and fucked from him rutting his fingers back and forth through it. “It’s nice out here, wow. Less stuffy.” You smile the words out, hoping he’ll wordlessly agree to forget about the whole thing. He’s got a cigarette between his fingers and he looks down at you, silently. He huffs, exhaling towards the street so the smoke doesn’t hit you, but the wind brings it to your face anyway. You cough a little, eyes tingling as you lift your face up to see him. Tears have filled up his eyes to the brim. His face is dark, and he smirks slightly around his cigarette, using a free hand to untuck his shirt.

He chuckles, dropping his wrist to his thigh, holding his cigarette below. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, wiping his sleeve twice at each eye. You pull his arm down, fingers gripping at his sleeve. His eyes are red, cheeks still rosy. You run your thumb along his waterline, and he wets his lower lip. He taps a little at his cigarette, holding it down by his side.

“Shouldn’t I be the one crying?” You smile up at him, and he finally smiles back. You feel fuzzy. Light on your toes, you run your hand down his cheek, and he melts. His eyes close and his shoulders droop, face sinking into your palm, warm and calm. Two tears run down his cheeks onto your hand, splitting off down into the delicate texture of your skin. “You need this.” You whisper, and he smiles so slightly, face so tired and gaunt. You reach, slow around his waist up to his back, and run your hand down until his spine curves. He leans into you, folding over your shoulder limply. He says nothing, only settles into your body as his breathing slows. He uses one forearm to prop himself off of you, pressing his arm flat against the glass with a sharp 90 degree bend at his elbow, careful not to lean anymore weight on you. You would worry about your coworkers seeing you, but your buzz is perfect, he’s lovely, and the sheer curtains are doing enough for your own level of comfort.

He mumbles, folding an arm around your waist. “There’s so much I want to say, in another setting.” He’s heavy, but gravity feels fake, and there’s a lightness that encapsulates the both of you. “Just— just for now,” He exhales the last of his uneven breaths. “Please take your time with me.” His voice crumbles a bit, like he’s ashamed or knows it’s wrong to ask for this or behave this way with an inferior. The forearm pressed flesh against the glass drops, and he huffs, face craned next to your ear. He’s tired and mellows out over your shoulder, maybe it’s the first time he’s been this honestly exhausted with someone. Like the act is done and over. He’s not unapologetic about it, he’s just ashamed and tired. As if he doesn’t want to be perceived this way, but has realized he has no choice.

You can’t remember the last time you held someone who needed to be held as much as Changkyun. You wrap your arms around him too.

✱

A lot of the employees are missing when Changkyun and you return to your table in the restaurant. Kihyun is patting Chaeyoung on the back as she downs another noodle side dish. Changkyun’s demeanor is completely different, the last second you checked on him before entering the restaurant again, he was bent over and worn looking, like a worn teddy bear with not enough stuffing. Now he was tall and powerful, chest puffed slightly and eyes just a little puffy (he assured one of your coworkers it was the sodium). “So, karaoke?” He says, broadening his shoulders, finishing his suggestion by cupping his hands together. Kihyun mumbles something to Chaeyoung, but she yells out many mushed words of approval before processing anything he says.

“Shhh! It’s fine!” She fawns, twisting around to face Kihyun, who’s worried expression releases into satisfaction.

It’s not a karaoke session in Korea without Big Bang. Kihyun chooses something cheesy and melodic and Chaeyoung tells him to skip it before he gets a word out. They battle over the tambourine and Changkyun only joins in to break them up when Bae Bae comes on and he’s had another few drinks in him, he sings everything flat and his eyes bore holes into Kihyun as he helps Chaeyoung pull off her cardigan. The room is musty and hot, and there’s at least 8 or 9 of you smashed along the couch, exposed skin sticking to the sweating leather seats. Changkyun’s cologne still envelopes the room, and even if you close your eyes to calm down your bouncing heart rate, you smell him and the lavishness of his skin. The dry tobacco scent from his cigarette at the restaurant clings to him. He folds his fingers one at a time over your wrist to get you to stand, a limp tug like he wants you to get up, but isn’t telling you to. You get up anyway.

He points to you, singing T.O.P’s verse like he really means it, kind of wobbling around flimsily. He’s all goofy and sways around the hot room, and taking his free hand to touch those on the couch like he’s a genuine celebrity. You smile big, laughing every once in a while when he fucks up the lyrics and has to stop in his tracks and look back at the screen, having to hang up the charismatic facade as he figures out the words. Once he gets back in the swing of things, he acts like he never stopped in the first place. He’s hypnotic and beguiling like he has always been and rocks his head back and forth, exposing his neck, slicked with sweat like a sacrificial offering. He glances over at you just slightly when he sings “My body wraps around yours so perfectly” and you think it’s all profusely nostalgic, like maybe you dreamt of this as a dinky tween. The only problem is he breaks eye contact two seconds later and grabs hold of another employee and tugs at her sleeve to stand, but it's not like what he did with you earlier, this tug is demanding. He’s desperate. The irrepressible urge to scream grows in your throat, and you whisper to Kihyun that you’re going out to get some air.

It’s a good few breaths you take outside, like finally the cool air can hit you again like it did outside the restaurant. You pull out your phone to mindlessly scroll, just for a minute or two. The clock reads 22:27. Hyunwoo texts you a peculiar gif not a second later, it’s a very specific reference to a conversation you had with him earlier. It feels nice to know he listens so carefully. A gray bubble pops up before you can type a response. ‘How’s it going? Havin fun?’ You smile, your heart tugs a little and you feel grounded again. “Soooo much fun.” A voice grumbles behind you, and Changkyun leans over your shoulder, craning around your back and slipping his arms under yours, his hands folding over yours, fingers aligning as he begins to type for you. “Good?” He breathes out, and you have to turn your head away from him to calm down. Your heart thumps heavily, so heavy and powerful that it hurts, a low droning pain.

He doesn’t send the text before you can turn back around to face him, and he steps back a bit to stabilize himself. You hold your thumb on the backspace until each word disappears, and your eyes meet Changkyun’s for a moment before you look down to your feet. They’re heavy-lidded now, and his hair is still all sorts of fucked up. Your heart pumps at an unbearable rate, and you can hear your pulse through your ears. “Stop being so…” he exasperates, threading a hair behind your ear. Leans in, close enough for his breath to tickle, “…scared of me.”

You have to stretch a little to shake off the haze that’s settling over your mind, and his hands drag from under your arms down to the top of your hips, and they settle along them like they were made to be there all along. You open your mouth, but nothing that your brain skims through can accurately reply. “Okay.” You nod up at him, like you only know obedience.

He dips his head back down, his bottom lip drags over your neck, and he kisses you there once or twice. He lets out these soft little sounds like he’s too excited for words. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles. “Fuck, so good. So pretty.” Your hand grazes over his neck and slides down until your thumb traces over his collarbone. He kisses less sloppy this time, on your neck again, on your cheek, on your jaw. Avoiding your lips like he’s saving them for later.

He’s been doing shots, you think. “I’m so grateful that I met you.” He whispers over your ear, and his arms wrap further around your waist, inching back up. “You know, earlier…” He starts, carefully, like it’s a sensitive topic that he doesn’t mean to offend with. “Thank you for understanding.” It’s weird, you think. He’s being endearing, or at least he’s trying to. You can feel him in his suit pants and he’s just growing harder. You push him off slow. “It’s okay, yeah?” He’s so drunk he’s barely awake. You can only bite at your lip and look away. More than anything in the world, you would like to fuck Changkyun. Even just once, even if it made your job so much harder and so much more awkward after. You just think it would be so good that it would all be worth it. But he’s too drunk, so you can’t. “I’m drunk, I’m drunk. I really like you, if you like me…” His words get sloppier and guilt pits in your stomach heavier than you can handle. You push him with two fingers back further like you’re really annoyed now, he has to stabilize himself by gripping a railing. You head back inside.

✱

Changkyun is an enigma. It seems with everything in his career, he faces it head on. With you, he’s careful, would never expect a clear answer or decision unless it's statistics on a file. Ever since that night at karaoke, he's cowered away in humiliation. You’re sure he wants you both to forget the whole thing, but it's so difficult with the words he spoke to you circling your head like the last drops of water down the drain. It takes a week before you realize that he’s not going to address the situation on his own, and if you want something to give, you're going to have to be the one who initializes the first push.

You fake overtime, knowing he usually stays later than the rest of you, you text Kihyun and Chaeyoung that you’ll call them after you speak to him and let them know all of the details. As soon as your last coworker wishes you a good night and the elevator doors close before her, your stomach pits like you've just thrown yourself into the lion’s den. It's the worst mistake you've made, and terror envelopes your entire system. You tell yourself in 15 minutes you’ll go knock on his door, sliding headphones on to calm yourself down. Shuffling a playlist a few times, you focus on your breathing while putting some stray pens and papers back into your filing drawer. When you hear Changkyun’s office door open way sooner than expected, your throat dries in an instant, your eyes glued to your desk and you work on trying to become as small and unnoticeable as possible.

His voice penetrates the wall you've desperately tried to build, and you turn quickly to face the direction it comes from, pushing off your headphones so they can fall around your neck. It's only then you realize that your music was never connected to them. You stand out of your chair suddenly. Changkyun looms, his silhouette shaded, one of the few light sources in the room is a lamp behind him. You cock your head slightly at him and he repeats himself: “Narcos.”

Your eyes flicker to your phone, and he's right. You were listening to the Narcos theme, outloud. “Sorry. I thought my headphones were–” Changkyun’s lips frown, and he shakes his head in disapproval, his arms folded over his chest. So you cut yourself short, grabbing your bag in a rush to just get out because the whole thing felt like a mistake.

“Do you know what the lyrics are about?” He doesn't try stopping you from packing away your things or help you clean up, he just watches with arms crossed. You shake your head, slowing down movements, trying to process the situation. “Drowning fear with love.”

“Why didn't you come to talk to me?” You surprise yourself with your sudden outburst, pinching yourself in the thigh.

He sighs like he’s been preparing what he’s about to say. “I overstepped. If anyone was going to reach out again, it should not have been me.” Your heart tugs because he's thought it out and was respectful and right. He was right.

“Why'd you have to drink so much?” Your eyes trace over the darkness that has hidden him so well.

You can hear him smile, and the song still plays behind you. “Because I’m smitten for someone I shouldn't be.” His head tilts down to his shoes on the carpet, a few strands of his slicked hair fall forward. Your heart feels like it's on a linear path to explosion. “Someone I have too much power over already.” He inhales deeply, and you move slowly to face him, releasing the pen in your hand.

“They make me nervous. I care a lot about how this person sees me, and I was worried they saw me as too uptight. So I did the only thing I knew would make me less uptight. Like a jackass.”

“Well doing that to me was the most jackass thing you've ever done, so you’ve got your worries in the wrong place.”

”Smitten” lt tingles in your stomach.

“I’m sorry. I know.” He steps forward twice until he can be illuminated by your desk light, and he looks magnificent. His eyelids hang heavily and he has dark bags under his eyes. The curve of his back as he looks down, his dress shirt flexing over his shoulders as he reaches to put the pen in a cup. “It was gross. I’m a dog.”

“No, idiot. No. You’re so stupid.” You pull the pen back out from the cup and slap it back onto your desk. His eyes light up, widening at your reaction. “You’re not a dog. You made me want you when I couldn't have you.” Changkyun has to tilt his head back slightly to give you room to come closer. “You made me worry for you and then disappeared like you didn’t need me. You’re a cat.” The song slows to a complete halt and the office is completely silent besides the air conditioning stuttering to keep up.

“I do.” Changkyun whispers. “I do need you.” His fingers float around your head like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch. “You wanted me.” He says, and you’re unsure if it’s a question. You don’t care, you nod anyways, pulling his hand to your face like he did to you a week ago. “Pretty.” He mumbles, tilting his head to get a better view. You can barely keep your eyes open, and he places his other hand on your cheek before pulling you close to him again. Back into his embrace, where his cologne suffocates the air around you. You’d be happy to only breathe this air forever. “You’re so pretty.” He wraps an arm around your waist, holding tight enough that your hips push into each other, colliding dully. This time his words aren’t slurred, they’re just kept quiet, like a secret meant to keep between the two of you. “I’m your cat.” Your heart pounds against him, and he pulls both of his arms around to your back so he can take off his watch, sliding it off and setting it on your desk behind you. He lifts you up by your thighs and rests you next to it, your fingers brush the cool metal as you stabilize yourself.

He backs up for a second, just so he can scan over your face for any implication you don’t want him. “I’m, really…” He laughs, looking at his feet before centering himself on you again. Feeling at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I’m really smitten.”

“Prove it.” You whisper, and Changkyun steps forward again, smoothly sliding a palm around the side of your neck, leaning in slowly, eyelashes hiding his pupils.

“I did already. Don’t you remember when I tried to fuck you after singing?” He smiles, proud of himself now for being able to keep his impulses at bay. You let your head loll from side to side like you’re deep in thought.

You hum a note of approval, “I would’ve let you if I knew you could’ve kept it up for more than a minute. It never lasts when you’re that drunk.” Your fingers brush down the side of his cheek, and Changkyun’s eyebrows thread conspicuously. He situates himself deeper between your legs.

“Let me make it up to you.” His palm lands on top of your thigh, brushing up and down. “You’re too perfect.”

You stare at him, angled down just a little from your seat on the desk. “What did you say earlier…” You prod, pushing Changkyun back an inch with a hand on his chest. “Called yourself a kitty. My kitty”

He shakes his head this time, whatever to get his point across, he’ll take. You drag your nails down the side of his neck, leaning in to press kisses on the opposite side, and needy noises fall from his lips. His shoe twisting into the carpet, he leans further in again, grabbing a fistful of ass as compensation. You make your way over to his lips, finally fulfilling the need. He nips quickly and sharply at your bottom lip, his hand forking through your hair. “Fuck” he groans, “fuck me.” “Please.” His voice mellows out as his phone starts buzzing in his back pocket. You sigh deeply, dropping your face to your hands, his face hot and legs tangled up in his. You pull away at the same time he does, checking it quickly before ending the call without ever picking it up. His pupils are blown out, cheeks are a bright pink, lips plumped and a little shiny from your makeup. You pat at his hair, rutting through knots with your fingers.

“I made dinner reservations for us because I had planned to apologize. Like a boss would.” He catches the hand on his head with his own. “Not how I expected today to go.”

“I’m hungry.” You shrug with a smile, and he eyes you completely baffled. He stares for a moment before shrugging.

“I’m with you.”

“Let’s go, Kitty cat.” You slide yourself off the side of the desk, fixing your skirt as Changkyun fixes your hair.

He halts his hands before letting them fall with a pinch of one of your cheeks. “Don’t let that be a thing, please.”

✱

chapter 1 ☆ chapter 2: "The Bear"

(masterlist) ☆ (monsta x masterlist)

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flowered-mp3 · 2 years

Text

incognito - lee jooheon

pairing: undercover spy jooheon + undercover spy female reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, spy, secret operations, gambler au

word count: 2.4k+

warnings: suggestive sexual content, cursing, gun mentions

summary: they never should’ve paired you up with your husband for a recon mission.

rating: 16+

author’s note: happy belated birthday, jooheon <3 i know that you guys have been waiting a while for this one, so sorry that it’s shorter than normal! life has just been alot lately... also if you’re not familiar, i wrote a gambler au for kihyun that did really well, so i wanted to write one for joo. i hope u guys like it <3

—

[library] [monsta x library]

—

“Testing, testing,” you whisper into your earpiece as you adjust it, disguising the action by fidgeting with your earring.

“Ready to go, love?” you hear your husband’s voice in your ear, and the crisp sound quality makes it seem that he’s actually beside you, whispering in that low voice that he has.

“Ready,” you answer softly, smoothing down the bodice of your dress to flatten the wrinkles. Bomi had to practically sew you into this royal blue number that she chose for you, citing the way that the colour compliments your skin tone. That, and the fact that Jooheon would love it on you.

You’re not sure if that level of distraction is in the best interest of the mission, but you are supposed to be a married couple.

The only difference is that you two have to act like the normal rich-and-wealthy kind, not the secret-spy-partner kind.

“Honey?” you say as you slowly open up the bedroom door, revealing yourself to him in the suite living room. He turns around immediately, ears seemingly piquing at the sound of your voice. Then, he smiles wide, his devastatingly endearing dimples making an appearance on his cheeks.

“Remember, this is just a recon mission,” you remind him, ignoring the way that his eyes trace the lines of your body. “So, no rash decisions. Do not make a scene. Do not expose yourself. And more importantly,” you pause, your body betraying you once you take note of the way that he’s styled his hair, nearly coiffed away from his forehead in a charming swoop, “No contact with the target.”

Unable to help yourself, you place your palm against his chest, sliding it down the fabric of his pressed suit. You immediately recognize the contours of his leather gun harness strapped to his chest, even through the double-breasted blazer. Leaning in, you press a chaste, fleeting kiss against his lips. You know that the contact isn’t enough for him, but you pull away anyway, hoping that the slight tease will keep him going for the next four hours.

“Understand?” you breathe against his lips, allowing yourself to let out a little gasp when his arm wraps around the small of your waist. He tugs you toward him; just barely, as if meeting your tease with a little goading of his own.

“Yes, love,” he agrees darkly, tucking his head into your neck before settling his mouth against the side of your neck, heartbeat pulsing against his lips.

“No distractions,” you remind him, but it’s more of a reminder for yourself. There are four hours to go and you’re already succumbing to his touch, knees weak and eyes half-lidded.

“No distractions,” he nods before reluctantly moving his lips from your neck. Then, he offers his arm, allowing you to loop your arm through it.

Without another word, he uses his free hand to pull the hotel room door open, guiding you through and into the empty hallway. For a fancy, five-star hotel, the hallway is pretty dimly lit, the white wainscotting illuminated only by the golden glow of the wall scones.

You both lift your free hands to press against your earpieces, waiting for a click to allow Agent 1122’s voice to trickle through it. It’s completed in a single, synchronized movement that could only result from years of being in each other’s presence.

“Agent 514 and 106, do you copy?”

“Agent 514, I do copy,” you whisper.

“Agent 106, I do copy,” your husband whispers right after.

“Perfect. I have eyes on the target in Ballroom C. His campaign manager hasn’t left his side in 30 minutes, so that may pose a problem when maintaining distance between yourself and the target. He’s currently stuffing his face in crab cakes and foie gras,” Agent 1122 confirms, and you giggle during his pause, probably a result of him gathering more information. Then, he elaborates, “The target is wearing a navy velvet suit, drowning in his third glass of champagne, and harassing a waitress in front of his wife.”

“Sounds like a piece of shit,” you seethe quietly, and your husband squeezes his arm as he detects your anger.

“Remember,” he says after stepping into the elevator and pressing the button to the correct floor, tone soft. You recognize it as him attempting to calm you.

“No contact with the target,” he repeats, and you nod, taking a deep breath before the elevator opens up to reveal the exact ballroom that the target is currently residing in.

“No contact with the target.”

—

Your husband is getting angry.

You can just tell by the way that his fingers are beginning to dig into your hip as the target’s manager refuses to stop talking to you, ignoring him; your husband, in favour of your breasts.

“Mrs. Kang, Mr. Tanaka would greatly benefit from a donation to his campaign,” they suggest, leaning much too close to your face for comfort, “And I’m sure that your management of Mrs. Kim’s coffers would make a sizable donation feasible. Your monetary help would be greatly appreciated.”

You smile, replying with a standard response that you prepared beforehand.

“I would have to speak to Mrs. Kim and her wife about the monetary support, but please know that they are both waiting to announce their allegiances to the press. Please be patient, as I do not have autonomous control over their finances. I merely manage them.”

He frowns through a smile, slimy and deceitful. Not only are they profiting from the sale of black market goods and embezzling donations, but they are also coaxing leaders within the financial sector to donate undisclosed amounts of money. Cleverly, if you allow yourself to give them a small, minute compliment, by bypassing the figures and going to their managers directly.

This is a vital piece of information that surely makes this mission worth the trouble. The only question left unanswered is where they’re selling those forbidden products; priceless artifacts stolen from their home countries, jewelry made with blood diamonds, human and animal remains that are disguised as fucked up trophies, anything that will fetch a pretty penny. Many people in positions of power and possessions of immense wealth are gathered here, but not just anyone can walk into a random store to buy black market goods.

So, you’re able to deduce that there’s an auction somewhere in this place, and you need to find out where. The only issue is that the location isn’t written anywhere. In fact, it’s never written down, and it’s up to the invited to remember from the word of mouth.

How unfortunate it is that the real Mr. and Mrs. Kang are somewhere in the Virgin Islands, enjoying a so-called vacation that they supposedly won at a blind auction.

You suggested scaring them into spilling the auction location to Agent 1122, but it’s better that they remain oblivious to the fact that their identities have been essentially stolen for a night.

A pair of ignorant fools, those two must be. You would almost feel bad if it wasn’t for the fact that they’re secretly embezzling money as well.

However, you’re beginning to worry that the mission may be jeopardized by your husband beside you. He’s smiling from the corner of your eye, but the eyebrow twitch makes it very apparent that he’s angry. Fuming, perhaps.

Well, he’s always been the overreacting, pouty type when pushed too far.

So, you attempt to calm him down by crossing your arm against your navel and squeezing the hand that rests on your hip.

Do not make a scene, you hope to portray through your touch, leaning against the side of his body to emphasize your point. His posture is stiff and his jaw is tight. But luckily, his body softens upon the squeeze of your hand. The movement is minute; barely noticeable to the public, untrained eye, but you’ve known him for long enough; worked with him in the field for long enough, to recognize his tics and mannerisms.

“Apologies, Sir,” your husband interrupts the campaign manager during his little tirade, surely mustering all the effort in the world to sound pleasant and unannoyed, “But my wife and I have previous arrangements with other candidates tonight. We will keep in touch.”

“Mr. Kang,” they say, almost chasing after your husband in the midst of leaving with you, “I implore you to reconsider.”

“Sorry, but we are in the middle of weighing out the pros and cons with the Kim’s. I believe-”

“What will it take for you to support Mr. Tanaka’s campaign?”

You pause, seeing the opening in the darkness, the light at the end of the tunnel.

An opportunity.

“Exclusivity,” you answer after stepping forward, voice confident, “It seems to me that you’ve been offering the same thing to every single person with money in this room. Offer me something different; something that only we can have.”

Agent 1122 is spitting in your ear at this point, scolding you for going off script. But you ignore it in favour of the target’s manager stopping in his tracks. His brows begin to furrow as if attempting to decipher your words. Then, his eyebrows raise; just barely, and it’s enough for you to collect that he’s taking the bait.

“What do you want?” he asks cautiously.

You lean in, pushing your bosom forward to brush it against his chest, pleasing him and pissing off your husband at the same time.

“The 17th-century French pearl and diamond choker. I want it in my hand for three million,” you demand, and his eyes widen. Your husband is probably shitting himself too; this wasn’t exactly planned, but you saw the opportunity and you’re not going to waste it.

You didn’t become one of the best by playing it safe.

“That piece is worth ten million. You’re seven million under the starting bid!” the manager exclaims incredulously. Your mind starts to swim with possible counters, possible ways of explaining your rationale but luckily, your husband is there to pick it up.

“Perhaps. But with our support, you’ll be making much more than seven million. Do this for us, and we’ll get you the Kim’s.”

You look to your side, and your husband's eyes are practically sparkling with dark mischief when he realizes that your risky decision has paid off.

“Fine,” the campaign manager agrees reluctantly, pausing to reach into his pocket. Their action causes an instant response, trained and drilled into your muscle. Your hand flexes and your heartrate spikes. The weight of the dagger strapped to your thigh seems to increase, and you’re suddenly very much aware of the direction that this conversation might take.

Your husband seems to react the exact same way, judging by the manner in which his hands also drift underneath the hem of his double breasted blazer. His grip on your weight loosens, and you immediately gather that he’s allowing you the chance to dodge the resulting violence

Luckily, your nerves are soothed when the manager lifts a small metal ring out of his pocket, dropping it into your outstretched hand.

“Present this to me a quarter after nine, infront of the Orchid Hall,” they instruct, and you don’t even have a chance to exchange pleasantries before your husband whisks you away, pushing on the base of your back without a single word.

“514, what the fuck was that? And 106? Control yourself, or 618 is going to have a word with you,” Agent 1122 says, the strong reminder only serving to exacerbate your husband’s temper.

“Firstly, get off my wife because she’s a genius and it worked. Secondly, kiss my ass,” he responds lowly, and you’re surprised to hear Agent 126’s throaty chuckle through the earpiece.

“Don’t rile him up, 1122. You know how he gets around 514. Who’s also his wife now, apparently? Thanks for the wedding invite, assholes.”

You scoff internally, unapologetic.

“Who approved of this mission pairing, anyway? 106 is clearly distracted,” Agent 1122 scolds through your earpiece, just as your husband makes sizzling eye contact with you. You’d think that he would ease Agent 1122’s anxiety by remaining silent but instead, he answers with such confidence that your spine straightens dramatically, “It’s not my fault that my partner is fucking hot.”

“Honey!” you exclaim, inadvertently catching the attention of a couple of people around you. Luckily, you’ve adjusted your tone in such a way that makes it seem like you’re just having an argument with your husband.

This is true, to a certain extent.

Your partner needs to cool the fuck down, so you pull him aside without catching attention, grabbing various canapes and a flute of champagne on the way. You decide on a secluded, unoccupied hallway just outside of the ballroom, very dimly lit. There’s no way that anyone would be able to make you two out without a flashlight.

“Calm the fuck down,” you warn softly, grabbing the front of his button-up with more force than you initially intended. You can’t help it though; your husband always manages to bring an elevated level of fierceness to you.

To a certain extent, you’re bracing yourself for some colourful, choice words from him. His shoulders are tense and his jaw has been clenched for the entire damn evening…

Surely, he’s ready to burst.

But instead, he pulls you in for a peck on your cheek, soft and tender, fingers splayed across the base of your back. Your breath hitches, eyelids fluttering closed when you feel his lips against your neck.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, trying to sound unaffected but fuck, he always seems to make you unravel, even on the job.

“You, hopefully," he nearly growls, voice unrecognizable through his simmering want, "After we finish this job and I rip this pretty dress off of you and-”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” a new voice, probably Agent 113 interrupts your husband’s filthy little speech, unimpressed and annoyed.

“Be right back, bleaching my ears right fucking now,” Agent 126 lets out, and you could crumble under the embarrassment, "You two are practically my parents. I cannot be hearing this shit right now."

Your husband sighs in exasperation, pressing his forehead against yours. You’re not able to make much out in this darkness, but you can only imagine the way that he’s looking at you right now.

“We’ll continue this later, without an audience,” he says, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He gives you the softest peck against your skin before pulling away and taking your hand, leaning you both out of the dark hallway and into the light.

—

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—

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