My Fake Boyfriend Manhwa Novels & Stories

I take a deep breath and walk in front of him, making him lock eyes with me. “Not today”, I whisper, and his eyes move from mine to Paul. I can see his brows furrow. And I can almost tell what he is thinking. I pull Alec to our table, and his parents join us to celebrate our fake wedding day. I could almost swear that he was real to him. I wish it were, and I hope he would think like that at least, because I feel myself falling head over heels for him. I think my heart is being shattered every time he says this is fake, that he only wants my body.

I really don't want to do plastic surgery with this girl because I know it's the same for me. "Really? Why doesn't it seem like..." he said, frowning. Does it know that Zedrick and I are not okay? If he knows anything, then I won't let him steal my wife. I hooked my hand on Zedrick's arm, he was surprised so he turned to me. I just smiled and caressed his cheek. "My husband is really handsome..." I said, making Zedrick even more surprised. He just stares at me but he just lets me do what I'm doing.

"Tell him. But remember this: if my career goes down, my dad loses his investments. And if Richard gets pissed off enough to dissolve this new marriage, your mother goes right back to the gutter. No more expensive dresses, no more imported marble. She’ll be broke again, Elena. All because you couldn't play along." My eyes instantly went wide. He pulled back, his eyes scanning my pale, trembling face with a terrifying satisfaction. He tapped the pink notebook against my chest. "Be a good little girl and be my fake fiancée for the season, Elena. Because if you say no, the entire campus reads your little diary tomorrow morning and finds out what a dirty, desperate, fantasizing little slut you r

Like he did not know what to do, nor what to say. ‘Laugh it off.’ Shira suggested. I laughed. A fake, put on laughter, all for the benefit of Zaine. “Too much drink, again, I think.” I rested my head upon his shoulder and he smiled. “Yeah?” His expression was unreadable. “Imagine tolerating you for longer than I needed to.” He quickly added, all but repeating my earlier words, and I smiled, glad that he wasn’t making this awkward. He seemed to have taken the get out I had offered. He did not want to use my offer of a fake relationship to trick his parents so he was not forced into an arranged marriage. I understood that. We were good as friends. I cannot imagine us as anything else, fake or

"I needed to see the fire." Jordan slipped his hands free from my weakened grip. He didn't push me off. Instead, he reached up, sliding his palms up my stomach to grip my waist. His thumbs pressed into the soft fabric of my hoodie. "You fight dirty, Sarah," he teased, using the fake name. "You told me not to fight fair, Mark," I shot back. His smile faded, replaced by raw, consuming hunger. His hands tightened on my hips. He pulled me down at the exact moment he lifted his head off the dirt.

Ren sat stiffly as Ciro poured wine into his glass, then into his own. “You don’t have to act so tense,” Ciro said, sitting across from him. “You signed the contract, and the tense wasn't included in the list.” Ren looked up sharply. “I signed to be your fake boyfriend. Not your...your...” “Whore?” Ciro said coolly, sipping his wine, and he smirked, noticing Ren's expression. Ren nearly choked. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” “You looked like you enjoyed the kiss last night.”

I rest my head against his chest as I try to catch my breath. His lips dust my forehead. “Don’t bother going to sleep.” His hand drops between my legs and he spreads them so they hang over each side of his body. He starts to work me again; his three large fingers slide into my wet, swollen flesh. “That was the entrée and this is a ten-course meal.” Four hours and four showers later, I lie in the semi-darkened room with my fake husband. The light is just peeking through the crack in the drapes. My head is on his chest and his large, muscular arms are around me. The night has been unbelievable to say the least.

That careless, Lump-headed, stupid ass jerk! "Of course. Why not?" I fake smiled. Oh I don't know, because I don't like him. Because I don't care about his stupid soccer games. Because I don't want to fake date him until freaking Friday! I shouldn't even have agreed to this. I just should've picked a random guy at school and asked ' hey, want to be my boyfriend for a couple of days?' Jeremy was actually my first boyfriend. Wait, he was actually my only boyfriend I've ever had.

”Not without consequences. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing my ear. “How about we continue this game for the next two days?” “What…what do you mean?”My voice was barely a whisper. “We will pretend we are dating just to spite him more, and also I want to strike a business deal with him, so you on my side, might just make it easier.” Two days pretending to be engaged to this intriguing stranger? It was insane. “What exactly do I have to do?” I asked. His dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Everything a real fiancée would do,”

“You hired someone to stand beside you, to look convincing, and to make your ex sweat. I did that. So why does my identity suddenly matter?” My laugh came out sharp - almost hysterical. “Because I did not hire you,” I said. “I hired a fake fiancé, and now I’m standing here with a real billionaire who apparently knew my name, my scandal, and my family before I even opened my door.” His expression did not change. “And?” he asked. “And?” I echoed. “And it feels like everything else about you is fake too.” His gaze hardened just a little. “It doesn’t matter what’s real or fake about me,” he said, his voice smooth but with steel underneath. “What matters is that I did exactly what you paid for.”