networklovemp3

[networklovemp3]

need to be bullied into writing more i’ve got an idea for gyucheol and i also want to write something for vernon And jeonghan…. sighs

[networklovemp3]

pineapple on pizza? | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: dilf jeonghan, boyfriend jeonghan, jeonghan is a dad › genres: fluff, smut (18+) › word count: 9.7k

› warnings: porn with a sliver (🤏🏻) of plot, jeonghan is so down bad, he likes to dom you just a little, pussy eating, masturbation, reader is on birth control but this is not mentioned, unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink, creampies, light choking, dirty talk, daddy kink, after care. pet names: baby, babe, darling, sweetheart (hers) babe, daddy (his)

› author's note: i lost my mind and just wrote this. i never write drabbles but yoon jeonghan always changes my mind simply by existing LOL DRABBLE—THIS THING TURNED INTO A FULLY FLEDGED ONE SHOT HAHAKJDHKGJH THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE HAKJHF

› shoutout to @aeristudios for suggesting baby names, and for giving me the inspiration to do this, jskdfjh.

and to @coupsiedaisee for watching me spiral in real time for the yoon jeonghan. thanks. thank you for working out certain plot points with me and for proofing this! 🩵🥺

› disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

It was only supposed to be a nap.

You and Yoon Jeonghan have been dating for a few months now. Ever since you met him, your life has turned around, and you’ve never felt luckier. Jeonghan walked into your life with the smoothness of a trainwreck—in the best way possible. One afternoon, you came out of work and started getting rained on out of nowhere. And he happened to be the only guy willing to share his umbrella.

You started talking, waiting for the storm to subside. He took your number, and you were surprised to receive a phone call the very next day. It wasn’t exactly easy to navigate the waters since you learned he was a single parent. Dating was hard enough already, and all of your friends thought you had lost your mind when you started dating a single parent in his thirties.

“I’m barely thirty,” he’d say with a laugh, the tips of his ears turning bright red whenever someone commented on it.  

Jeonghan made things feel lighter, even if his life was a complete mess sometimes. He provided you with a sense of normalcy, a sense of security. Even though you were in your mid-twenties, sometimes you worried you were on different wavelengths. But as the months went by, you found that it was easier than breathing.

Both of you fell into a rhythm. Sometimes you’d visit him, sometimes he’d come to yours with his two-year-old strapped to his hip. You’d dine together, watch some mindless TV, or play games. And whenever he could get the chance to, he’d take you out on dates, just the two of you.

Tonight, you came to his apartment straight from work. It was pasta and pizza night, and it was one of the very first nights that you would stay so late at his house. Neither Jeonghan nor you would stay at each other’s places. You weren’t quite there yet.

Typically, you’d see him wearing his clothes from work—a button-down white shirt, black pants, slacks, belt that matched his shoes. Very clean cut in his work uniform, to the exception of the pair of wacky socks he wore—like salmon pink socks with cute little potted cacti. That’s the kind of man Jeonghan was.

But when he answered the door, you were surprised by what you saw. Sometimes you would see him wearing his uniform still, but with some bits already dishevelled, like his tie would be loose around his neck and his shirt with the buttons half-undone. No. This time, Jeonghan was wearing a white oversized white tee, with bright green shorts and a white cap on his head.

And something about it made your blood stir.

But you had to remain composed. You cleared your throat as you padded through his apartment barefoot.

“What are you cooking tonight, sir?” you asked playfully, following him into the open kitchen of his apartment.

The place was small, but perfect for him and Sohee—it felt lived in, toys scattered in the living room where most of life happened. There was a creamy white rug placed in the centre of the room, a baby chair where Sohee was hyper fixating on a bag of water and peas, while Jeonghan was busy in the kitchen.

Jeonghan eyed you briefly. A smirk broke into the frown he was previously wearing. “Cooking?” he drawled slowly as he appeared to be fighting to open a bottle of wine. “Pasta and pizza. I got up at the crack of dawn to make the spaghetti from scratch with my bare hands.”

“Oh, really?” you smirked, clearly catching on to his game.

“Yeah, obviously,” he said, masking a giggle with a cough. “What, did you think I would order food and then reheat it in the oven?”

You eyed the oven, which showed you the pizza that was currently being heated up. “I would never,” you giggled softly, pushing yourself to your tiptoes to reach for a kiss.

Jeonghan tilted his head to you, aiming for you to kiss him on the lips. But coordination between you failed. In the midst of him focusing on stopping the pasta from burning, and you standing on your tiptoes, you ended up kissing his cheek.

“Stay still,” you whined, making him chuckle. Bringing a hand to cup his cheek, you fixed him in place for you to prop a quick kiss on his lips.

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Kiss me properly,” he complained, pouting and knitting his eyebrows in a frown.

“Pay attention to me, then,” you argued, laughing at his reaction.

“I can’t—I’m cooking,” he emphasized with half a laugh. But then he turned the stove off, quickly placing his hands on your waist to push you back against the kitchen sink. The movement was smooth, making you think that he had wanted to do this the moment he saw you walk into the kitchen.

“You are a kitchen hazard,” he huffed, his voice low, barely audible.

“Why?” you asked, laughing softly.

He tilted his head to yours, the tip of his nose bumping against your own. “Cause you’re distracting the chef,” he whispered, joining his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, almost as if he wanted just to feel your lips with his own and nothing else. Then slowly, as he kissed you again, his tongue brushed your bottom lip ever so slightly, drawing an airy moan from you.

But then, an alarm went off, snapping him back to reality. Jeonghan tensed at the sharp sound, but leaned his forehead against yours. “Dinner’s ready.”

“I’ll get Sohee,” you whispered without opening your eyes yet.

That gained you another kiss—this one was even more brief, fleeting. But it denoted the need he had to have his lips on yours. He stepped back, though begrudgingly.

This was the only push and pull you had with Jeonghan.

In all of the months you’ve been dating, you have never gone past kissing. The only times you both have been close to doing something other than kissing were the few make-out sessions where he dared to slip his hands beneath your blouse, only to feel your back or your waist.

Yoon Jeonghan was the only man in your life who exerted control over himself.

And it was confusing at times.

Not because you questioned his affection, or his desire for you. You knew he wanted you. But for some reason, he controlled himself every time things got a little too heated. And well you… you wanted this man. More than you allowed yourself to admit.

The boyish aspect he sported as he wore his cap, the laid back look… you found it too hard to resist.

But you resisted it anyway. You skirted through the living room, through the rug cluttered with toys that told a story—a train was on the ground, surrounded by little cowboys and ponies. You smirked to yourself, knowing what story Jeonghan might’ve crafted for baby Sohee moments before he got up to get dinner ready.

You lifted Sohee from her chair, mirroring the little squeal she let out as you wrapped her in your arms. “Hi, young lady,” you cooed, smiling at her as she clapped her tiny hands together. Sohee was a perfect little girl with big bright eyes, a head full of messy black hair and the cutest smile— just like her father’s.

Jeonghan had finished setting up the small round table and was approaching you with a small towel he normally used to wipe the drool off of Sohee’s chin. “She might not be hungry, though. Apparently, she ate all of her meals at day care, not just animal crackers,” he commented with a slight but noticeably contented look on his face.

You made a shocked expression, grabbing her attention fully. “She did?” you asked, and the baby giggled at your face. “That’s awesome! Daddy must be so proud of you!”

Jeonghan blinked his gaze, shifting from his daughter’s face to yours. Now, this wasn’t the first time you called him daddy, but you were beginning to notice that it had an effect on him. His eyes widened slightly, and he seemed to stumble over his words before he even uttered them.

He ended up just smiling shyly.

“Come on, let’s put you in your chair,” you said, pretending not to have seen his reaction.

As you safely put Sohee in her highchair, she held onto your hair, making fists around the loose strands and clenching them tightly as you placed her safely.

“Sohee,” Jeonghan sighed reproachfully, catching her tiny fists around your hair before you did.

“Oh—” you muttered.

But Jeonghan was quick, grabbing Sohee’s favorite cup and placing it in front of her strategically. “Look here, Sohee!” he cooed, his tone rising in a way that made you go a little feral with cuteness aggression.

But it did the trick—Sohee instantly went for her sippy cup, silently latching her mouth to it and started drinking from it.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he muttered as you stood back. Jeonghan was standing behind you, so you bumped back against him blindly, his hand falling on your lower hip by accident.

Your whole body became alight with excitement. A little too much of it. “Yeah!” you sighed, your tone sounding too high. You cleared your throat.

If Jeonghan noticed, he did not react. “Please,” he motioned to the chair for you to sit.

You sat down beside Sohee, looking at the table as Jeonghan placed the pizza at the centre. “Hawaiian pizza?” you arched an eyebrow.

Jeonghan stopped, two empty glasses in his hands as he was just about to place them on the table. “Isn’t it your favourite?” he asked, sounding horrified.

“Yes, i-it is,” you replied, face switching into a frown. “How did you know?”

He relaxed visibly, his shoulders going slack as he resumed putting the glasses on the table, then turned to grab the bottle of wine. “Well, you told me,” he said, smirking.

“I did?” you asked.

Jeonghan joined the round table, and it was small enough that he was close to you and Sohee at the same time. “Yeah, you did. Our second date, remember?”

“Uh, yeah. Totally,” you said, not hiding the evident unseriousness in your tone.

Jeonghan huffed. “Ah, you don’t remember,” he clicked his tongue again. “Maybe you should pay more attention to me,” he emphasized jokingly.

You giggled. “You’re right, it is my favorite,” you said, leaning in to place a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for remembering.”

Jeonghan smiled shyly, looking down as you pressed your lips against his cheek. He directed a long look at you as you leaned back on your chair. “Let’s hope she likes it too,” he mumbled, cutting a small piece from his slice of pizza and pinching it with a fork.

“She might not be big on it,” you mumbled softly, looking at Jeonghan as he drove the fork in front of her face. “Not everyone likes pineapple on pizza.”

He glanced at you. “You’re right about that,” he huffed playfully.

“You don’t like it?”

He shrugged, still waiting for Sohee to take the bite. “I don’t mind it,” he replied. “I just think it changes the whole meal. A snack turned into a dessert.”

“So you think pizza is a snack?” you inquired, arching an eyebrow.

“I just don’t think it’s a meal on its own, you know? It needs to have company, like pasta,” he replied with a light smile, his gaze shifting between your face to his daughter’s as she finally took the piece of pizza into her mouth.

“Oh, moment of truth,” you muttered, completely forgetting what Jeonghan just told you.

Sohee appeared to be completely intrigued by the piece of food that had just entered her mouth. She chewed, her face progressively becoming more and more interested in swallowing just to get another mouthful immediately.

“It appears she likes it,” Jeonghan mumbled happily, exchanging a look with you.

“Of course she does,” you asserted. You gave him a confident wink. “Sohee’s like me. She has good taste.”

Jeonghan smiled, content that Sohee was liking the food she was trying for the first time. But there was more in the twinkle of his eyes as he looked at you—you were able to appreciate it.

He was happy.

After dinner, you offered to tidy the kitchen as he bathed Sohee and got her ready for bed. Usually Fridays were more relaxed for you both, since none of you had to work the next day—but something about that day had left you feeling tired, and sleepy. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was work, you didn’t know.

But you were feeling too tired to drive back home, and in all honesty, you didn’t want to leave yet.

You sat on the couch, waiting for Jeonghan as he put Sohee to bed, and then you could have a moment between you two—which was probably going to end up with you watching something on TV, occasionally stopping to kiss until it got too steamy for either of you. It was usually like this. And this rhythm had you slowly falling into a steady step—familiarity.

You realized you liked it. You could get used to it.

However, tonight, your body had other plans for you.

One moment you were waiting for Jeonghan on the sofa, shutting your eyes, and the next you opened them to find yourself in his queen-sized bed, covered with a weighted blanket. 

You instantly tensed, scrambling to sit up.

Jeonghan was lying beside you, not completely asleep but not quite awake either.

The lights were off, but the curtains weren’t exactly fully closed, so you could see his face thanks to the sliver of light that slipped through the parted curtains. He lifted his eyebrows, blinking slowly at you. “Hey,” he croaked.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”

In the darkness, you saw him frown. “Why are you sorry for that?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with tiredness.

You realized that he was still wearing the same clothes, sans the cap. Now, you could see his black hair, which he kept trimmed short. You gulped. “I—” you sighed, finding no excuses to give him. “I should go home.”

Jeonghan lifted his head from the pillows, still frowning. “It’s late,” he mumbled. “And you don’t have to go. You could stay.”

The air in your lungs seemed to vanish in an instant. You knew the implications of staying the night at his place—sharing a bed with him meant you taking things to the next level. A whole more intimate level.

“Jeonghan…” you muttered, but there was no reason for you to say no. You wanted to stay. And you were aching to lie down next to him.

He noticed something in your tone, the hesitation perhaps. Because he smiled softly, stretching an arm towards you. “Come,” he whispered, motioning over to his side of the bed.

You turned over, lying down in front of him. Jeonghan received you in his arms instantly, wrapping one arm over your waist and slipping the other under you, effortlessly pulling your chest closer to his.

Your breath hitched when you felt his warmth, instinctively finding his chest with your palm and pushing some invisible inches of distance between you. It was futile.  

Jeonghan started giggling, crushing his lips on your face. “You’re nervous,” he finally realized, pressing his lips repeatedly against yours. “It’s not like we’ve never slept together before.”

“No, we’ve slept naps together,” you interjected. “And on a couch. Never on a bed.”

“Imagine this as taking a longer nap,” he said, shrugging slightly.

“In a bed,” you added shakily, skirting the pads of your fingers down his chest nervously.

Jeonghan laughed, aiming for another kiss. “Mm-mmph,” he hummed against your lips.

Your pulse quickened. The kisses Jeonghan was giving you were mere pecks, lips pressing against yours repeatedly, gently. It wasn’t until a grunt escaped him, the arm perched on your waist switching so his hand could park on your lower back. He tilted his head, pushing yours so you could part your lips, giving him access.

Jeonghan had a killer factor. And it wasn’t his good looks, or that he was a great kisser, no. Yoon Jeonghan had a duality that only you knew. He could appear composed to some people, fun to others. A good father. A good co-worker. But the thing that never failed to make you want to die a little was just how sexy he could be.

And given the fact that he’d never gone past kisses made you a little crazy.

He kissed you again, now locking his lips with yours, humming into your mouth as you dared to swipe the tip of your tongue on his bottom lip. His hand slipped from your lower back, circling your waist and sliding to meet your hip. Inches closer to your bottom.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, bringing a hand to cup the side of his neck.

“Want me to stop?” he mumbled, his tone gentle and sweet.

You moved your hand from his neck, shaking your head in tiny motions as you cupped his chin. “No—just a bit longer,” you whispered, diving for another kiss.

Jeonghan returned the kiss just as heatedly, his hand on your hip pressing slightly so his fingertips dipped into the fabric of your skirt. You didn’t even realize that he’d pushed the blanket down, or had you done it?

The sweet pecks had turned into a make-out session. It became harder to breathe, your body felt heavier and hotter. His lips were losing their gentleness, his chest closer to yours to the point it was noticeable in the shift in his breathing.

He pulled away, just slightly, so he could speak. “Tell me when to stop,” he said, his tone rising a bit in desperation. As though he was getting closer to a line he wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“Just as long as you are comfortable, I’m okay,” you whispered, still unable to get a grip on your nervousness.

Now, you weren’t completely inexperienced in sex. You’ve had your fair share of experiences, multiple partners in the past. But there was something about Jeonghan, something about his kiss that melted you away completely—it made you feel like a beginner all over again.

“Me?” he whispered, chuckling softly.

“Yeah, dummy, you,” you said, frowning slightly. “I thought you didn’t want to…”

He pulled away, getting a better look at your face. “Didn’t want to what?” he asked, matching the frown on your face with his own.

“You know,” you mumbled, shrugging with reluctance. “You always pull away when the kissing gets too much, or when your hands go too far.”

He blinked. “I never realized you saw it like that,” he said, softer now.

“Well, explain to me how you think I saw it,” you mumbled, showing him a coy smile.

He seemed to slow down. “I thought you wanted to take things slowly,” he emphasized, still speaking gently.

The statement made your mind race. All the occasions that Jeonghan left you feeling a little too hot, panting, and wet have been because he thought you were the one pulling the brakes?  “Jeonghan, what?” you asked, genuinely confused. “I thought you didn’t want to take things there yet,” you replied, hating yourself for speaking figuratively. Your face heated up.

He smiled fondly at you. “Really?” he mumbled, raising his eyebrows briefly as he leaned his forehead against yours. “You have no idea.”

Jeonghan kissed you again, your breath catching as his lips locked with yours. The arm that was under your body wrapped over your back, as the hand on your hip held you tightly. You never would’ve guessed what he was attempting to do, because when he turned over on his back, he brought your body with him too. Now, you were lying on top of him, your full body weight pressing down on his body.

You had no time to protest—not that you actually had something to protest. But this was the very first time you both dared to do something like this. And it wasn’t because of any kind of convictions you had, it was just because you both failed to interpret the assumed distance.

And now that he knew you also wanted him, it was as though he was released from a self-imposed prison.

Jeonghan let his hands roam free on your back, leaving your hips to press his palms on the line of your back, feeling you over your clothes. He hummed into your mouth as you continued to kiss him fervently, as though his lips were magnetic, calling you to him.

Suddenly, your clothes became too much. You wanted to get rid of his oversized t-shirt, the shorts. Everything. 

And Jeonghan was thinking the same, apparently. Because his hands moved further down on your body, his fingers pinched the stiff fabric of your dress shirt from your work uniform, hiking it up so he could hide his hands beneath it.

Despite his touch being cold, you welcomed it. Your body was hot, feverish as his lips continued to explore yours, his tongue meeting your own in a seamless dance. Your heartbeat was going a mile per second, so fast and so hard you could hear it thumping in your temples. It was almost embarrassing how a simple make-out session could make you feel like you were running a marathon.

It was his effect.

“Hannie,” you called, your tone honeyed and airy.

“Should I stop now?” he asked again, and you realized from his tone that he was aroused as well. It sounded low, raspy.

“No, no,” you mumbled dumbly. “Please, just give it to me. Give me everything,” you pleaded, past caring how pathetic you sounded.

But again, you wanted this man.

Jeonghan didn’t need further confirmation.

His hands slipped from under your dress shirt down and over your skirt, fully cupping your ass over your clothes. “Sit on me,” he mumbled gruffly, swallowing hard.

You let out a strangled and tiny noise from your mouth. But you followed his instruction, moving your knees to each side of his hips—not caring that the movement was hiking your skirt up your thighs, to the point that it barely covered your butt anymore.

Jeonghan didn’t skip a beat, his hand circling your neck to motion you back on his lips. You were straddling now, so it was easier to lean over him to kiss him fully. You grabbed his face with one hand, while the other slipped on the side of his head, fingernails grazing his scalp, feeling his short hair in between your fingertips.

He moaned, the sound muffled by your mouth, reverberating in your chest. It made your blood dance, arousal sizzling under your skin, your heart race even quicker. Instinctively, you pressed your hips down, accidentally grinding your crotch against his. You could feel him through your panties, the hardening bulge beneath his shorts—its warmth.

His hands gripped you harder, motioning you to repeat that same movement by pressing your hips down on him, making you feel his growing boner. You broke the kiss, but only to feel his breath on your lips. “God, Jeonghan,” you whispered shakily.

Jeonghan knew you were nervous by your tone alone. “Tell me what you need, baby,” he told you, his voice still sounding raspy.

After hearing the word baby come out of his mouth, you could not speak past this point. All you knew was his hands on you, the very evident hard-on pressing against your crotch. And Jeonghan’s warmth, the need he had for you, all of that just robbed you of words.

But you could only utter one word. “More,” you said, already knowing that without your consent, he wouldn’t do anything.

You were sure that Jeonghan could feel your rapid pulse beneath his fingertips, his hand still parked around your neck. He motioned you to his lips again, a tiny gasp spilling from his mouth when you shifted on top of him, pressing your ass on his hardened cock. It made you moan too, the sound muffled by his mouth.

His hand slipped from your neck, fingers fumbling over the buttons of your dress shirt. The second his thumb went over the first button, your core started pulsing with need and heavy arousal.

You kissed his mouth, your hand feeling his short hair while the other one felt him up his chest. His heart was beating rapidly too. You could feel it vibrating beneath your palm. His fingers continued their descent down the buttons of your shirt, undoing each one of them with great care. Like giving you ample time to stop him if you changed your mind.

But you, on the other hand, were aching for him to get it done. To get your clothes off so you could start taking his. However, Jeonghan seemed to be taking his sweet time to the point that you began to think that he was doing it to fluster you more.

As soon as the last button of your shirt came off, you pulled back from his lips, leaning back on top of him so you could get a better view of his face. His eyes roamed all over your face and body as you let the dress shirt slip off your shoulders, taking it off your arms to then discard it somewhere on the floor.

Jeonghan’s eyes widened slightly when he saw your chest, covered only by the white lace bra that you were debating to take off at that moment. But Jeonghan sat up with you still straddling him, his hands switched from your hips to your back, palms feeling you up as he reached for the line of your bra.

He looked at your face directly, his eyes reading yours as his fingers unclasped your bra. Your skin immediately prickled, a shudder running down from your nape to your tailbone. You felt his hands move, fingers reaching the straps of your pretty bra to slide them down your shoulders, then your arms.

He paused, his eyes outlining the features of your face one more time before his gaze dived into your chest. Then he leaned over, pressing a sweet kiss on your collarbone, his wet lips brushing your skin made your eyelids flutter close.

Your mouth parted, his mouth continuing to kiss down your chest, was slowly driving you insane. “Oh, Hannie,” you moaned, the sound sweet and almost pathetic.

He responded with a moan of his own, but his sounded raspy, almost animalistic. It made your blood surge, pushing you to press down on him harder. Jeonghan grunted again, this time in protest, as though you were fighting for control, and he would not allow that.

In one motion, he flipped your body over, pressing your back against the mattress. You gasped, your eyes finding him. He never handled you with such force, let alone put you down like this, because he wanted to cage your body with his.

He made no comment about your alarmed expression, but a cheeky smile drew on his beautiful lips before he dipped his head to kiss you again. You were now lying on your back, Jeonghan was slotting his body between your thighs, which you were parting for him, careless that your skirt was already up your belly.

Jeonghan slipped his hands between the mattress and your butt, finding the zipper with his fingers all too effortlessly. It made you think that he had already located the zipper way before this, which meant he’d been looking at your ass as well. The zipper came down, and his hands quickly moved the skirt down.

“I love when you wear this,” he said gruffly, pulling away to remove the skirt from your legs. “But right now, it needs to go.”

He discarded your skirt somewhere in the bedroom, and you heard the metallic sound of the zipper hitting the floor, snapping you to reality. Your hands acted on their own, finding his oversized t-shirt and pulling it over his head, which he let you do all too willingly, even helped you with tossing the shirt to the floor as well.

You giggled softly, stretching your arms to him so he could come back to slotting his hips between your thighs. Once he pressed his bare chest with yours, you wrapped your arms around him, skirting the pads of your fingers along the line of his back, feeling his skin prickle as well.

You loved that he showed no hesitation. He wanted this as much as you did, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He initially bristled when your fingers started dancing on his bare skin, but as he let out a brief giggle, you realized that he was just ticklish and responding to your touch.

The sound alone made you go entirely feral, if you weren’t feeling like that already. You let your hands roam on his back, searching for the waistband of his green shorts, beginning to pull them down.

But Jeonghan seized your hands, grabbing them by the wrists and pinning them up your head. “Hold them right there,” he said, his tone raspy and laced with a hint of playfulness.

You did what he said, though not by obedience alone, but because Jeonghan had caged you with his body. He lowered his hips on yours, making you feel the size of his hard cock, then the warmth of his chest against yours.

He made a trail of kisses, starting from your cheekbone to your lips, then trailing down to meet the line of your jaw, the crook of your neck and your collarbones. Then, with a fleeting glance at your face, he dipped his head to kiss your chest, kissing your boobs with such deliberation that it made you think he wanted to do this for a long time. He hummed against your skin, tasting your skin as he wrapped his mouth around your left nipple.

You winced slightly under him, but then relaxed instantly when the tip of his tongue swirled around your areola, to then suckle at it and kiss it. Then he did the same with your other nipple, now the feeling was so sweet that you closed your eyes, moaning salaciously.

Jeonghan lifted his head, shushing you softly. But then he giggled bashfully. “We don’t want to wake the baby up,” he warned you, the same spark of playfulness making a return.

“Right,” you whispered, shame tingling beneath your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Jeonghan shook his head. “No, you’re alright,” he whispered back, pushing his forehead against yours before propping a light kiss on your lips. “You’re perfect.”

Your heart shuddered. You cupped his face with your hands, meeting his lips with your own with soft pecks. “Want to keep going?” you whispered, your tone rising a little, making you sound shy.

“Yes,” he replied with determination. He swallowed hard, but then you felt him raise his eyebrows slightly. “And you?”

“Yeah,” you replied, giggling at yourself. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” you admitted.

“Mmn,” he hummed, giving you another light kiss. “If only you knew how badly I wanted you,” he replied, matching your giggle.

“You can show me now,” you told him, your tone sweet and melted in arousal for him. “I’ll be quiet.”

“But not too quiet,” he said. “I like the way you sound.”

Something came over you, like a bright light bulb going on and off inside your brain. You smiled cheekily, even though he was still leaning his forehead on yours and couldn’t see you. “Yes, daddy,” you replied.

Jeonghan let out a sigh, and you knew that he was smiling just by the sound alone. He hummed, closing the space between his mouth and yours to kiss it. “You will be the end of me,” he told you, giggling softly.

But then he wasted no time, continuing to explore your bare skin with his lips. He returned to kissing your chest, teasing your nipples with the tip of his tongue, and he did this slowly, as though getting to know how your skin tasted, how it felt on his lips. You were sure now—Yoon Jeonghan had been wanting to do this for a long time.

You remained silent, feeling too aroused and too needy to get things done to even speak. You felt as though your tongue had grown heavy in your mouth, and you were submitted to only watch and feel what Jeonghan did to you. He saw back on his knees, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties.

You exchanged a glance with him, and you knew that he was asking for permission just with a look. You nodded, and he started to pull your panties in his direction, taking them off your legs. You retracted your legs, lifting your knees up for him to take your panties off completely, and left them aside on the bed.

Now, you were utterly naked on his bed. For a split second, you wondered how this situation would look from afar—pitch black in the dead of night, only a sliver of streetlight seeping through a crack in the curtains. Jeonghan, half-naked and crawling on top of your body, as you welcomed him in your arms, parting your legs for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he drawled, pushing his lips against your own. “You don’t know how many times I imagined you here with me,” he whispered coyly.

“Yeah?” you replied in kind.

“Mm-mmph,” he hummed. “So many times. And even then, all those things I thought about don’t even come close to the beauty you are in real life.”

“Hannie,” you giggled sheepishly.

He laughed against your mouth. “My pretty girl,” he said tenderly, kissing you one more time. “So perfect. And sweet.”

Your eyelids fluttered close, as he kissed the underside of your jaw, then your neck. You sighed. “All yours, daddy.”

Now, you were sure that word had an effect on him. He let out a hum against your skin, moving to kiss your collarbones, your chest, your belly. “All fucking mine,” he said aloofly, leaving wet kisses around your belly button.

The room fell silent again, all to the exception of your quiet moans and sighs, and the smacking of Jeonghan’s wet lips as he kissed your lower tummy, inching closer to where you needed him the most.

Now, part of you was finding it hard to believe what he was doing. Even if you had experiences with other people, they were never close to the man Yoon Jeonghan was. All of your past partners seemed to shrink in comparison just by the confidence he exuded—every move was deliberate despite his initial nervousness.

And you attributed that nervousness to how much he cared about this—about taking this step with you. Because you were also nervous. You had never liked someone this much. And had never even waited to have sex with someone for so long while dating.

“Hannie,” you mumbled shakily when he kissed your mound, sending you furtive glances to check in on you.

He lifted his head, and you saw his face. His lips were swollen and wet from kissing you, his eyes darkened and half-lidded with lust. “Want daddy to eat you out, baby?”

“Oh god—” you gasped. “Yes, yes, please.”

Jeonghan only smiled in response. It was a small smile, drawing on his face slowly. He said nothing, keeping his darkened gaze on you as he moved his mouth to kiss the top of your pussy.

You blinked repeatedly, mouth parting to let out a tiny moan. Your body twitched, and you laughed at your own involuntary response as his lips pressed a kiss just an inch lower. “God, Jeonghan, please just do it already,” you pleaded.

Jeonghan grabbed your thighs, holding them open as he bowed his head between them, pulling out his tongue and running it against your outer lips. The feeling was exquisite, making your back stir on his bed, and your head sink on his pillow. Your mouth fell open, and you had to clamp your palm against it to muffle a moan.

He blinked, raising his gaze to look at you briefly before he continued licking your outer lips. You noticed he was doing this to tease you only, right before he did the real thing. He licked your outer lips, kissed them and nipped them with his lips until you were a squirming mess.

“Please, please, please,” you begged over and over, sounding even more pathetic than before.

And he obliged, even if you weren’t voicing what you actually needed. Which was his mouth on your clit. But he did this slowly, working up to it. He gave you a broad stroke with his tongue in between your folds, drinking your arousal straight from your core with a pleased moan on his part.

He licked you over and over until his mouth found your swollen clit, wrapping his lips around it once, as though kissing it only. He flicked it with the tip of his tongue, only to get you to moan and thrash under him.

But he did not comment on it, even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was enjoying this. He brought a hand to your tummy, placing it flat against the top of your mound and then he latched his mouth around your clit again, beginning to suckle at it.

“Oh—” you gasped, leaving your mouth open wide as he teased your clit with his lips around it, sucking and pressing his wet tongue against it, moving it slightly from side to side. “God,” you cried out, squeezing your eyes shut.

He did this for a couple of minutes, only switching the pace and motion of his tongue when your moans became raunchier.

The room was soon flooded with the sounds you made and the sounds of Jeonghan’s mouth against your dripping wet pussy. Other than that, it was dead silent in the house, and you were becoming addicted to this game of sorts, of trying and failing to keep quiet. And part of you began to think that this was why Jeonghan kept edging you with his mouth.

“Daddy, I want to cum,” you told him. Running your fingertips on his scalp, feeling his short hair underneath your fingernails. “Please, help me cum,” you pleaded, your tone raw and sweet.

Your thighs were shaking. The rest of your body was so tense with arousal, you were sure you would break. But Jeonghan gave you what you so desperately wanted—sucking and licking your clit until you reached your climax. Tension broke in your body, filling you up with sweet, sweet pleasure.

Your fingers coiled around his hair, back arching as you let your orgasm consume you. “Fuck! Yes, yes, yes, Jeonghan,” you whined quietly, pleasure robbing you of sanity as you started sobbing and shaking on his bed.

He didn’t stop, not until you began panting and heaving. He left a sweet kiss on your top mound again, lifting his head from your ruined pussy. “Felt good?” he asked.

You pushed yourself to sit on the bed, hands quickly finding the waistband of his shorts and started tugging them down with shaky fingers. “Yeah. Amazing,” you sighed, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

Jeonghan was on his knees, looking at you fumble with the remainder of his clothes. He brought a hand to cup your cheek once you got rid of both his green shorts and his grey boxers. You raised your head to meet his gaze, and you knew that he just wanted to have an image of you like this.

You bent down, grabbing his hard cock with one hand and propping a prim kiss on his cockhead. You sent him a glance, moving your lips to press them on his shaft. Jeonghan was well-groomed and had a pretty cock. It was long, and the tip matched the color of his lips. And it was warm, hard and leaking precum from his slit.

His eyelids fluttered slightly. “Lay back, baby,” he whispered.

You obeyed, moving to lie back again on the pillows as he moved on his knees slowly. His gaze roved all over your naked body as he placed his hands on each side of your head, and then lowered himself to his elbows.

You ran your palms down his chest, feeling the muscle of his abdomen clenching slightly when your fingernails grazed against his skin. But he was kissing you again, as though he couldn’t go for too long without joining his lips with your own. His breathing shifted, and your fingers wrapping around his hard cock again made him groan into the kiss.

You rolled your hand on his cock, stroking him languidly as he positioned his knees on the bed, making you open your thighs wide for him. And then you guided the tip of his cock to your pussy, rubbing his cockhead up and down your wet folds just to get a reaction from him.

Jeonghan groaned, but didn’t stop you. And when his cockhead finally notched against your entrance, he pushed his hips against yours, slipping his bare cock inside you all in one go.

The kiss was broken. Your head sank on the pillows, and Jeonghan pulled back to see your face as he stuffed you full of his cock. Your eyebrows knitted, mouth parting as you let out a silent cry.

“You’re good?” he asked you softly, but his breath was ragged already.

You wanted to say yes. You felt better than you ever had in your entire life. An exhale came from your nose; you were already fucked out.

Jeonghan nudged the tip of his nose against yours. “Mn?” he hummed gently. “Baby?” 

“I’m good, Jeonghan,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. “Perfect,” you mouthed.

Jeonghan giggled, starting to move. “Yes, you are, baby,” he said sweetly. “So perfect.”

You wished you could say something just as endearing. But you were quickly robbed of speech completely. Your mind had gone blank, going from the shocking orgasm Jeonghan gave you with his mouth to stuffing you full of his cock.

Jeonghan let his head fall on the crook of your neck, using your hair to muffle a raw moan as he moved his hips against yours, thrusting his cock inside you at an insanely good and steady pace.

You had closed your eyes, letting him take you however he pleased. You were too gone, melted in a puddle of arousal—it was then you realized just how wet you were. Your skin was covered in a sheen layer of sweat, your face smeared with tears of pleasure, and you could feel your pussy dripping with a mixture of your arousal and his spit. So wet in fact that every time Jeonghan moved, you could hear it.

You had started to match Jeonghan’s moans, except that he could muffle them on the curve of your neck. You were trying not to be loud, but it was proving to be a harder task than it initially was.

Jeonghan moved his head, probably thinking the same thing you were, because he crushed his mouth against yours—kissing you so passionately that all you could think was that he was trying to get you to shut up.

But he leaned his forehead against yours, breathing raggedly as his thrusts picked the pace up. “You feel so good,” he whispered shakily. “I’m not going to last long.”

“It’s okay. I want you to cum,” you replied, letting your fingers feel his skin. His back, his lats, his hips as he rolled them on top of yours.

The moan he let out this time was raspy, but he was able to drown it out in your mouth. “Where do you want me?”

Your mind spun with the question. And you knew then—you were crazy. Because you had to be. “Cum inside me,” you said, hating the sound that came from your lips. Raw, honeyed, like a whine.

Jeonghan grunted in a near-animalistic way, his thrusts stuttering in their pace, but he kept ramming his cock in and out of your pussy. “Fuck,” he whispered. And he rarely cussed when he was with you, and that was how you knew he was growing more and more desperate. Closer to his orgasm.

“Jeonghan,” you whined, knowing now that he was just as insane as you were. You cupped the back of his head with your hands, feeling his trimmed hair in between your fingers. “I want you to fill me up, daddy. Please, please.”

He let out a long, raspy moan, his breath caressing your lips as he started gasping more, pushing his hips against yours in a languid manner. You knew he was cumming inside you, and the thought of it made you moan with him, tilting your hips for him to fuck his cum deeper into you.

Jeonghan opened his hand, finding your head to caress your hair. He was panting, his chest touching your own every time he drew in air through his mouth. His thumb started moving side to side, caressing your temple.

You were shaking, hands slipping from his head, but stopped at his neck, feeling his pulse.

Then you felt his lips over yours, making you part your lips for him to have access to your mouth. His tongue rolled inside your mouth, drawing an airy moan from you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, on his lips. The act alone made your walls clench around him.

And he felt it.

Jeonghan grunted. And for a split second, you thought you were beginning to go insane because you felt him move, pushing his hips ever so slightly against yours. But no, Jeonghan was thrusting inside you again, moving his hips languidly, so slowly.

But before you could utter a question, something, he pulled back. Now sitting on his knees, Jeonghan grabbed your hips, starting to fuck you down his cock, which was beginning to harden again.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan sighed, tilting his head back but only briefly. His gaze roved all over you, from your face to your body and down your pussy, where his cum was spilling out of your swollen and tight entrance.

You could only look at him. He had a fucked out look on his face, and you realized that his skin was also covered in a sheen film of sweat. Your gaze trailed down to his abdomen and the way it contracted slightly with each thrust of his hips against yours, to then his happy trail leading down his pubic hair, which was smeared with a creamy white string of your arousal. And he was also looking at you, where your bodies joined, where his cum was dripping out.

His cock slipped out of you, making you both emit a sound at the same time. You smiled softly at him, and he mirrored your smile back. He grabbed his cock, coated with his cum and your juices, only to drive it back in your pussy, pushing his cum deep inside your walls.

Your entire body was overtaken with an intense shudder. Jeonghan kept fucking you like this, moving your hips to meet his rapid thrusts. He was beginning to look tired, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing one of your thighs with one hand and hiking it up his shoulder.

You whined at the change in position, now you could feel his cock reaching deeper inside you at each thrust.

“Fuck,” he whispered tiredly, letting his head tilt back. “You feel so good, baby,” he repeated. “You’re squeezing me so good.”

You could only moan in response, which made Jeonghan smile, turning his face to press a kiss on the inner side of your knee. The feeling of his lips on your skin only intensified the pleasure building inside you.

“Jeonghan,” you called.

“Yes, baby?”

“Fuck me harder,” you pleaded.

It was at that moment you knew—you could never let go of this man. Because Yoon Jeonghan smiled at your request and gave in anyway. He grabbed your other leg and hiked it on his shoulder, now fucking you harder, driving his cock inside you deeper.

You let out a whine. The deeper he went inside you, the closer you felt to your second orgasm. And this time it was quicker, being so stimulated that pleasure built easily in your body. But it was the whole situation that drove you insane—trying to keep quiet while Jeonghan rammed his cock inside you, his cum spilling out of you, headboard slamming softly against the wall, everything.

“Jeonghan!” you gasped, a strangled noise coming out of you as your second orgasm barreled down your spine, so hard you had to squeeze your eyes shut and clench the blanket with your hands.

He let out a sound through gritted teeth, and you knew by the way his thrusts slowed down that he was cumming with you, too. “Fuck,” he whispered, thrusting tiredly now, sloppily. He eased your legs back to the bed, crawling back on top of your body to kiss you again.

The kiss was languid, heavy with the need to rest and go back to sleep. But you were both latched to each other, kissing passionately despite the urge to breathe properly again. You were tired, yes, but were also happy beyond belief.

You cupped his cheek as he broke the kiss with a gasp. “You okay?” he asked.

You giggled. “You have to stop asking me that,” you replied, caressing his cheek with your thumb. “Yes, Hannie. I’m okay.”

He blinked slowly, bumping the tip of your nose with his own. “Do you want to sleep now?”

You nodded. “Definitely,” you said.

Jeonghan smiled fondly at you. “Okay. But before that, let me take care of you. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your tone tiny and so sweet.

It made Jeonghan smile. “Alright,” he said, kissing you one more time before he peeled his body off of yours.

He climbed off the bed and walked to the bathroom. Moments later, you heard the water from the shower running. As he came back to the bedroom, you got a better view of your boyfriend. He was glorious—wholly naked, fucked out look on his face. And all yours.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said as soon as he noticed you, smiling knowingly.

“What? What look?” you asked, playing coy.

He leaned over the bed, placing his hands at each side of your face. “The kind of look that makes me want to climb up here and keep making love to you all night long.” 

You giggled amusedly. “Jeonghan, you’re threatening me with a good time.”

He smirked. “Oh, darling. And I haven’t even started with you,” he said, pressing a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

A tingling sensation shot down, straight to your core.

Jeonghan must’ve caught a reaction on your face, because he only giggled. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Once back in the bedroom, your tummy twisted anxiously when you saw the aftermath of what you had done—clothes scattered on the floor, the blanket tousled on one side of the bed and the messy covers and pillows.

You began to pick the clothes from the floor, gathering them in a neat pile while Jeonghan checked in on Sohee quickly. When he came back, your tummy fluttered again. He looked different, recently showered and ready to sleep, a different side to his confident face.

He had given you a t-shirt to wear and also offered to lend you sweatpants, which you declined, given that his t-shirt was already oversized and almost reached your knees.

A part of you felt different now. Not bad, exactly. Like you had reached the end of a chapter and were now beginning another. You and Jeonghan had had this routine of sorts for months before you started a sexual relationship, but it just felt so different now. It made you nervous.

Would he look at you differently now?

“Is something wrong?” Jeonghan asked, the sound of his voice snapping you out of your thoughts.

Jeonghan was opening the bedcovers and sheets for you both, motioning you over with his head.

“No. Nothing’s wrong,” you replied, trying your best to mask your self-doubt. You crossed the bedroom and slipped into the bed.

When Jeonghan clicked his tongue, you realized that you had taken a space that was far from his usual spot on his bed. “Come here,” he giggled softly, noticing your shyness now.

“Sorry,” you whispered, cuddling up to him. “Force of habit.”

“Mmn, yeah,” he muttered, looking at you as you leaned your head on his shoulder. He emitted a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around you. “Not anymore. Mkay?”

“Okay,” you replied, letting your worries go.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

You moved your head on his chest to look at him briefly. “Of course.”

“Why did you think I wanted to take things slow?” he asked. His tone was soft, quiet.

You blinked. “Because I thought you didn’t want to risk things changing between us…” You trailed off. “You know? You have a lot on your plate with Sohee and your ex.”

The last word spilled from you like a curse.

You and Jeonghan always skirted around that topic of conversation. All you knew was that Jeonghan had a very fleeting relationship with Sohee’s mother, and it ended up with her getting pregnant. Jeonghan had full custody of Sohee, and you had also come to learn that his ex only liked to appear in both Jeonghan’s and Sohee’s lives sporadically. But on those occasions, she always seemed to make it a living hell for him.

Jeonghan blinked, and you knew your words had left a heavy impact on him.

Your heart squeezed. “I shouldn’t have,” you added nervously, looking away. “I’m so sorry.”

A pause.

Jeonghan slipped his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet your eye again. “No,” he mumbled. “We can talk about it.”

“Okay,” you whispered shakily.

“I don’t want you to think that there are things we can’t talk about, you know?” he said, worry beginning to set into the features of his face. “And maybe I’m to blame here, because I didn’t want to bombard you with my stuff.”

“What do you mean?” you said.

Jeonghan sighed, and it wasn’t out of tiredness or exasperation. He was looking for the words to say. “When I met you, I was terrified of some things. I debated whether to tell you about Sohee on the first date. I just didn’t want to say something that would scare you away,” he lowered his gaze briefly. “And I debated even more on telling you about my ex.”

“But you did tell me about Sohee on our first date,” you reminded him, frowning a little. “And about your ex on our second date.”

Jeonghan smirked slowly. “So you do remember our second date.”

“Of course I do, dummy,” you said. And then it clicked. You didn’t remember telling Jeonghan about your favorite kind of pizza because he had just told you about his evil ex. And that was his way of changing the topic. “I must’ve been digesting a lot of information while we talked about Hawaiian pizza, you know?”

He offered you a solemn look. “And you still stuck around. You could’ve walked away, but you didn’t,” he whispered, looking at you longingly. “You still haven’t.”  

You parted your mouth. “I don’t think I want to, Jeonghan,” you replied in kind.

His gaze softened. “If something happens, will you talk about it with me?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” you mouthed. “Can I ask you now?”

Jeonghan nodded, blinking at you sleepily.

“Why did you think I wanted to take things slow?”

“Same thing,” he responded reluctantly at first. He let out a sigh. “I thought you didn’t want things to get messy, you know? I have a kid and I’m alone in this. I didn’t want to hold it against you if you didn’t want to get sexually involved with me.”

A smile broke into the features of your face. You pushed yourself up to kiss him tenderly. “You’re such a dummy,” you whispered.

“Me?” he giggled, holding you closer so he could press another kiss on your lips. “What did I do?”

“I’ve wanted you from the moment we met,” you told him, and it was the truth.

“How was I supposed to know?” he said, clearly clueless.

“I thought you always noticed,” you said, still in disbelief.

“But you never said anything.”

“Jeonghan,” you deadpanned. “I really like you. Like really, really like you.”

He smiled sheepishly, blinking slowly. “Well, I know that. I really like you too. I just wanted to wait until you felt ready to take things to the next level.”

“Babe, I literally called you daddy and let you cum inside me not only once, but twice,” you told him with a flat tone.

Jeonghan almost choked on his laughter. “Sweetheart! You can’t just say those things,” he said, sounding both scandalized and amused.

“Why not?” you said, clicking your tongue. “You’re always saying weird stuff as well.”

“Really?” he said, and you nodded at him. “Am I weird?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I’m weird then,” he said with a faux defeated tone.

“You’re weird like pizza on pineapple,” you said. “Sweet and salty at the same time.”

He emitted a low chuckle. “That’s really corny, babe. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you. I work hard on my metaphors,” you replied primly.

“I’ll give this metaphor a seven out of ten,” he smirked.

You gasped. “Admit it, you love my metaphors.”

“Yeah, like I love pizza on pineapple,” he said, letting the sarcasm coat his words. He brushed his fingers down the line of your jaw, looking at you fondly. “You’re weird too.”

“The kind of weird that matches yours,” you said confidently.

Jeonghan smirked, closing the space between his lips and yours. “Absolutely.” 

› author's note pt. 2: i need to give him a kid. or kids, plural. like asap, please. i'm begging 😭

i literally wrote this in between calls from work. like it literally took me 24 hours to write this, no joke. jeonghan just drives me insane. i have no explanation for this 🧍🏻‍♀️ i might just be ovulating but let's be real — i'm always thinking about jeonghan, and right now the baby fever is going wild. you'll see in future fics lololol

i want to thank you all for being here and for reading so far!! i recently gave away 25 free spots on my patreon!! i'm so excited hehe, i might giveaway more spots in the future! thank you guys for joining! 🥺🩵

i love you all! thank you for reading!

toodles!

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© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[networklovemp3]

⭑.ᐟ MAKE HIM SNAP: LEE FELIX (NSFW / 18+ ONLY)

: ̗̀➛ pairing: lee felix x brat fem!reader (a bit of seungmin x reader) : ̗̀➛ word count: ~8k : ̗̀➛ content: fluff, smut, felix is the sweetest thing but so mean, reader actively tries to make felix mad, minor injury in the kitchen

part 2 is out!

you make a bet with seungmin: you've got one week to get your boyfriend, felix—who seems completely incapable of getting mad at you—to finally snap. after a series of failed attempts, you figure if anything’s going to work, it might as well be in bed.

author's note: i’ve been on a writing grind lately so here’s a second fic in one sitting because apparently i have no self-control. i’m shitting my balls. i need felix like yesterday. enjoy! ♡

smut warnings below the cut!

: ̗̀➛ smut warnings: hard dom!felix, explicit sexual content, oral (f. receiving), reader has the biggest degradation kink, brat taming, slight edging, light bondage, power play, unprotected piv (don't), missionary, doggy style, semi-voyeurism

you’d always thought of him as sunshine.

everyone did.

even when he wasn’t smiling, felix had that glow, with freckles that danced across his cheeks like constellations and a voice that made people turn around just to hear him speak again. he was soft. gentle. sweet in every way. the kind of boy who folded your laundry before you even remembered you’d done it.

even in bed he was gentle. he was all praise and slow hands. he loved you softly. every time.

which is probably why no one—including you—had ever seen him mad.

not truly.

you were perched on the edge of the couch in the boys’ dorm, nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of your hoodie. it was felix’s—slightly oversized and still faintly smelling like his laundry detergent.

you were here because you’d accidentally taken something you weren’t supposed to. a usb, to be exact. felix had handed it to you earlier in the day along with your own, and in your rush to leave, you’d pocketed the wrong one.

“i just feel so bad,” you groaned, glancing toward the hallway. “he said he needed it for something tonight. like, deadline needed.”

seungmin was sprawled across the other end of the couch, legs kicked up, eyes on his phone. he barely glanced up as he responded.

“you’re being dramatic.”

“no, like—really bad. i shouldn’t have—”

“honestly?” he cut in, finally looking at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “i don’t think he’s even capable of getting mad at you.”

you blinked. “what?”

he chuckled, flipping his phone over. “i mean, come on. you could probably punch him in the face and he’d apologize for getting in the way of your fist.”

you laughed despite yourself. “that is so not true.”

“isn’t it?”

you opened your mouth to argue—but then the front door opened.

felix stepped in, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside. his eyes found you immediately.

“hey,” you said, standing. “i brought it. sorry again, i seriously didn’t mean—”

“shh.” he was already moving toward you, gentle hands coming up to cradle your arms, thumbs brushing soothingly against the fabric of your his hoodie. “don’t stress, angel. it’s okay.”

“but you said you needed it for tonight,” you mumbled, guilt creeping up your spine. “i should’ve double-checked—”

“and i should’ve labeled mine.” he gave a small laugh, pulling you closer, tucking your head under his chin with that easy warmth that always made your chest flutter. “it’s not a big deal. really.”

you swore you saw seungmin choke on a laugh in your peripheral vision.

your eyes flicked sideways, just in time to catch him turning away, phone suddenly so interesting he might’ve been reading the terms and conditions. his shoulders were shaking, just barely.

felix either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it.

“i’m gonna head out again to drop this off,” he said, voice still soft, fingertips lingering at your elbow for a second longer before letting go. 

you nodded, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “right. of course.”

“thanks for coming all the way back,” he added, gaze warm and fond, like you’d just done something heroic instead of, well, returning the thing you accidentally stole. he gave your arm one last squeeze. “text me when you get home, yeah?”

“i will.”

then he was gone, door shutting behind him with a soft click.

and the very second it closed, seungmin’s voice rang out from behind you.

“that was disgusting.”

you turned.

“excuse me?”

he didn’t even look up from his phone. “you took his drive and somehow walked away with a hug, and a thank you.”

you opened your mouth to argue.

then closed it.

“okay, but—”

“nope. don’t justify it.” seungmin pointed his phone at the door.

you rolled your eyes, hoisting your bag over your shoulder, but the words stuck with you. warmed you a little too much. annoyingly so.

still, you couldn’t help yourself.

“he’s still a person. he’s not, like… impervious to irritation.” you muttered, half to yourself, half to the room. “if i pissed him off enough, he’d crack,”

seungmin didn’t even flinch. “tell me when that ever happens.”

you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “you know i’m gonna try to, just to prove you wrong.”

“mhm,” seungmin said flatly, not even looking up. “60 bucks. you have a week.”

“60 bucks,” you repeated. “i’m gonna find his limit,” you said, dead serious. “he has to have one.”

“good luck.”

you’d been thinking about it for days. how to do it, how to gently prod at the edge of felix’s limits without actually hurting him. you weren’t trying to be cruel. you just wanted to see something other than that permanent calm. you wanted to prove he could feel sharp things, too. that he wasn’t made of clouds and soft blankets and baked cookies.

jealousy. that was your angle.

was felix ever jealous? you genuinely didn’t know. he’d never so much as blinked when people flirted with you—though to be fair, you’d never exactly flirted back. you never had a reason to and you never wanted to.

but now, you needed a reaction.

so when your company hosted a casual dinner event—open to significant others and friends—you didn’t hesitate to bring felix. he looked unfairly good that night, dressed in soft black slacks and a black button up that hugged his torso a little too well. his hand found yours under the table the second you sat down, thumb stroking slow, lazy circles against your palm like always.

you were seated at a long table with a mix of coworkers and guests, plates being passed around, wine glasses clinking gently, hearty laughter filling the room.

he was beside you, close and always tuned in to you.

but the guy on your other side was friendly. talkative. a little too charming. you leaned into it. just enough to have felix notice.

you laughed at something the guy said—tilting your head just slightly, gently hitting his arm in that way that could maybe be seen as flirty. maybe. you were careful.

felix didn’t say a word.

he was smiling, even. still soft spoken. still squeezing your hand every now and then. still brushing your thigh under the table with his when he shifted in his seat. he even leaned in at one point and murmured, “you okay?”

you nodded, playing it cool. “mhm. just chatting.”

felix grinned. that same soft, sunny smile that always made you feel like you were the only one in the room.

“alright,” he said, brushing your cheek with his knuckle before pulling back like nothing was even slightly off.

he went back to being quiet and polite. still engaged in the conversation going around the table, nodding at someone’s story, chiming in with a laugh when appropriate. he didn’t stiffen. didn’t narrow his eyes. didn’t even glance at the guy beside you like he might be competition.

you sat there smiling and nodding at whatever work guy was saying about his vacation to bali, but your stomach was knotting. tighter by the second.

because you knew what you were doing. you knew exactly how much you were leaning. exactly when you let your laugh ring just a little louder, your fingers trail just a little longer.

but felix wasn’t reacting.

or at least he wasn’t reacting the way you expected.

he was still him. gentle. and he could’ve been using this moment to get back at you.

there were plenty of chances. the woman across the table who complimented his accent. the one seated diagonally, sipping wine and laughing just a little too brightly at his jokes. one even asked him how his skin was so clear and if he worked out—which, in fairness, was a valid question.

felix didn’t take the bait. he was polite, as always. gracious, even. gave small answers. thanked them with a nod and a smile. but he didn’t engage.

he didn’t lean in. didn’t offer even an ounce of attention that could be mistaken as anything more than manners.

and slowly—almost like he was aware of your internal panic creeping in—his knee pressed against yours beneath the table. then reached for his water glass and poured some into yours before you could even realize it was empty.

this wasn’t going to work.

you weren’t going to rattle him. you weren’t going to get that possessiveness, that glint of jealousy in his eyes.

because felix didn’t play games.

not with you.

he loved you out loud, completely, and without keeping score. he didn’t need to punish you or mirror your actions to prove a point. he didn’t flinch under pressure. he didn’t crack under quiet provocations.

this wasn’t going to work.

it had been a few days since the whole work dinner experiment—since felix had unknowingly, demolished your plan by doing absolutely nothing except love you the way he always did. respectfully. infuriatingly.

but you weren’t done.

not yet.

jealousy didn’t work, sure. but irritation? that had potential. everyone had a limit, and you were determined to find felix’s.

you were at his place now—technically his and seungmin’s—kitchen lights warm, sleeves rolled up, and flour already dusting the countertop like early snow.

the goal today was mild sabotage. nothing irreversible. nothing that would actually ruin the cake. just… enough sugar to make it way too sweet. enough to maybe make him sigh. maybe scold you a little. maybe just something.

you waited until he stepped away to grab a new mixing bowl, and then—quietly—you dumped in an extra quarter cup. maybe a little more.

by the time he came back, you were standing innocently with the spatula, gently folding the batter like you hadn’t just committed a culinary crime.

he paused. looked at the bowl. then looked at you.

“…did you add too much sugar?”

he caught you. you blinked up at him. “no?”

he hummed. scooped a bit of batter on his finger. tasted it.

and then, smiled?

“if you wanted it sweeter, you could’ve just told me,” he said, voice playful, handing you a towel to wipe your fingers off. “i’m gonna balance it so it doesn’t taste like pure syrup.”

you sighed loudly, dramatic, flopping back against the counter. “this is so annoying.”

he laughed and leaned past you to grab a lemon from the fruit bowl.

“go chop up some of the fruit, okay? i’ll deal with this.”

you looked at seungmin, who hadn’t said a word. he gave you a look that screamed pathetic.

you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to the cutting board, muttering under your breath.

great. jealousy failed. sabotage failed. what were you supposed to do now? bake the cake upside down? hide the eggs?

you didn’t know.

you really didn’t know anymore.

your plan—whatever it had been—was slipping through your fingers. and the worst part? you kind of… didn’t want to push anymore. felix had been so patient, so kind through all of it, and suddenly, you just felt silly. immature. you had something good, and you were trying to poke holes in it just to see if it would leak.

lost in thought, you didn’t even realize how close your fingers were to the blade until it was too late.

the knife slipped.

there was a sharp sting.

you yelped, the sound cutting through the warm haze of the kitchen as the knife clattered onto the counter and fruit scattered everywhere.

“ah!” you gasped, clutching your hand. blood was already rising.

felix’s head snapped up instantly. “what happened?”

you stepped back, breath shallow but trying your hardest to stay calm. “i just cut myself.”

he was already there. crossing the kitchen faster than you’d ever seen him move, his hands reaching out to check your fingers, but the moment he saw the blood, his eyes darkened.

“what were you even doing?” he snapped, voice sharper than the knife that slipped. he grabbed a towel with jerky, frustrated movements, wrapping it around your wound with practiced precision but no softness. “were you even paying attention?”

your lips parted, stunned. “i—i don’t know, i was just—”

“you weren’t thinking,” he cut in, tone clipped.

his voice rose. that low, velvety rasp he usually used to whisper sweet things into your ear was now slicing through the air.

“for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, shaking his head, “i asked you to do one simple thing. not play with the goddamn knife.”

you stared at him, completely disarmed. not just by the tone. but by how he looked.

chest rising and falling under his fitted sweater, sleeves pushed back just enough to show the flex of his forearms. his jaw clenched, eyes dark with something deeper than just irritation. he looked… furious. and so hot.

your mouth went dry.

you couldn’t stop staring at the way felix was breathing, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, like he was trying to bite back whatever else he wanted to say. his hands, still stained with flour, flexed at his sides. every muscle in his jaw was tense.

seungmin stood up, crossing the kitchen to the cabinet. nothing was gonna progress if you stayed there ogling at felix's mad state.

he grabbed the first aid kit, crouching beside the chair you’d sunk into. he opened it like lee felix hadn’t just snapped for the first time in recorded history.

“here,” he said, pulling out some antiseptic and a band-aid. “don’t bleed on the tile. it’s ugly enough already.”

you gave him a weak glare, but he just smirked.

felix hadn’t moved. he was still standing there, looking at the floor now, his expression twisted as if he was starting to come to his senses

“you got really worked up there, man,” seungmin said, tone light but clearly pointed.

that made felix move. he blinked like he was coming out of something, then turned toward you—eyes wide now, voice quiet.

“i’m sorry, baby” he said.

you didn’t say anything for a second. just stared at him, still a little stunned by the whiplash.

but even now, with his shoulders slumped and his tone apologetic, he still looked good. still had that anger simmering just under the surface. still had you simmering.

you swallowed hard.

“it’s okay felix,” you said slowly. 

seungmin raised a brow but said nothing, silently peeling the wrapper off a band-aid.

felix crouched in front of you, his hand ghosting over yours. his voice was soft again, almost too soft.

“i won’t yell like that again,” he murmured. 

you blinked at him, and for a second you wanted to say don’t promise that.

because the way his voice had cracked when he was angry. the way he looked at you like your carelessness shot him. the way he was filled with something that wasn’t just rage, but deep concern—you hadn’t expected it to do something to you. 

but he was still doing everything out of love.

even when his voice rose and his hands tightened and his eyes darkened—he was still the same felix. still checking if you were okay. still apologizing even though you had started this whole mess.

and somehow, that made it worse.

you hadn’t even pissed him off correctly. not really. he didn’t yell because you were annoying. he yelled because you were bleeding and he didn’t know how else to handle the sudden fear curling in his gut.

and now he was kneeling in front of you, shame written in every line of his face, like he had done something unforgivable.

you wished he hadn't come down from it so fast.

you wished—maybe more than anything—that he knew he didn’t have to keep being perfect for you to love him.

you didn’t know what else to do.

jealousy had failed. sabotage had failed. even blood hadn’t done it right. every attempt chipped at something inside you—your confidence, your ego, your grasp on what you were even trying to prove. and yet…

seungmin had texted you the evening of the baking incident: [that was a close one] [but it didn’t count. try harder.]

you'd stared at it for a long time.

one last attempt.

if you couldn’t get felix to be mad at you, then maybe you could make him lose control somewhere else.

which is why he was between your thighs right now.

you were sprawled across his bed, hips twitching, sheets clutched in your fists.

felix was eating you out like it was a mission. like you were something sacred, and he had all the time in the world to worship every inch of you.

his mouth was obscene. lips slick, tongue working you open so slowly you wanted to scream. and he kept murmuring things between licks.

felix’s tongue traced a slow line up your slit, lips closing over your clit with a tenderness that made your hips twitch. he groaned softly into you, the sound vibrating through your core like a low hum of devotion, and his arms curled tighter around your thighs, anchoring you in place. every motion was soaked in patience. you were trembling, half mad with need already, and all he’d done was kiss you like he loved you—which, of course, he did.

“taste so good, angel… always so sweet for me, aren’t you?”

“f—felix…” your voice broke on his name, hands knotted in the sheets. he just hummed again, content like he could spend the rest of his life here, lips gliding over your clit, tongue flicking in slow, perfect circles that had your thighs quivering. he was gentle, so gentle. like you were the only thing in the world worth touching delicately.

and maybe that was the problem.

you were panting, already so close and he hadn’t even slipped a finger inside yet. you could feel your orgasm mounting fast, could feel the heat blooming in your belly, the ache curling in your spine, and you knew what would come next. he’d hold you through it. he’d kiss your thighs, murmur praise, make you feel like you were the center of the universe.

you were already trembling, one hand fisting in his sheets, the other tangled in his hair, breath coming in staggered whines. he didn’t speed up. didn’t deviate. tongue curling soft and hot over your clit again and again until your hips twitched and a ragged moan slipped out without thinking.

and then he paused. just for a second.

his eyes lifted to yours, warm and glassy, lips shiny with you.

“shhh, darling…” he whispered, and the way he said it made your stomach flip. “seungmin’s in the living room, remember?”

your chest heaved. right. he always reminded you. because you’d confessed once—embarrassed and flushed, the sheet pulled up to your chin after a particularly loud session—that you hated the idea of his roommate hearing. and since then, felix had always made sure to keep things quiet. to warn you. to soothe you when your voice got too high, your cries too desperate. he’d press a kiss to your throat, a hand hovering over your mouth, shushing you.

but tonight, something changed in you.

you weren’t going to hold back.

so when his mouth dipped again, lips closing over your clit in a slow, gentle suck, you let it out. a high, shaky moan that cracked at the end, followed by a breathless, “fuck, felix.”

he froze.

lifted his head.

his mouth was still glistening, chin slick with you, flushed and beautiful in that way that always made your stomach twist. but his brows were drawn, just slightly, and his voice—when it came—was low and firm, not scolding but edged with something you didn't know he had.

“hey.” his thumb stroked up your inner thigh, slow but deliberate. “quiet down.”

it wasn’t a soft reminder like before. it was certainty a command.

and of course it did something to you.

your breath hitched, thighs twitching around his shoulders as the authority in his tone settled in your chest.

you pouted. just a little. “why?”

his eyes narrowed. there was a flicker of disbelief there, like he didn’t quite believe you were pushing this boundary.

“because kim seungmin’s out there,” he said, slower this time, more deliberate, as if you’d forgotten. “and you hate being overheard.”

you shrugged, arching your back slightly, enough to grind your hips closer to his face again. “maybe i changed my mind.”

his eyes flicked to your cunt, glistening and shamelessly on display, then back up to your face. his expression had shifted. no longer just disbelief. something darker had crept in now. it was possessive and sharp.

“well i don’t want him to hear you.”

the words were flat. he meant it.

you blinked, breath catching.

“i don’t want anyone hearing what you sound like when i’ve got you like this,” he continued, leaning in until you could feel the heat of his breath against your inner thigh. 

you bit your lip, the heat rising in your face. in your chest.

“but…” you started, trying to keep your tone airy. “you always do what i want.”

that did it.

you watched his jaw clench tighter, watched the tension rise in his shoulders, watched the composure crack. just a little.

felix rose slowly, and settled over you, forearm bracketing your head, chest brushing yours as he leveled his face just above yours.

you felt it instantly.

gone was the usual ease in his posture, the pliant softness you always leaned into. what loomed above you now wasn’t your sweet, sunny felix—it was the part of him he always held back, the part that simmered under the surface like magma, always contained, until you poked at it.

and tonight you’d done nothing but poke.

he leaned in again, slow, like a feline in tall grass, and planted his palm flat against the mattress beside your head. his voice was soft now, but laced with something that made your spine arch—authority and control.

“you really think i don’t know?”

you swallowed hard.

“that you’ve been bratty for days,” he said, like it was fact. like it was math. “flirting with that guy at dinner. cutting your hand because you couldn’t stand that i didn’t break. ”

your cheeks flamed, breath catching, but you still held the edge in your smile.

“i was just distracted—”

his hand moved fast, gripping your jaw, enough to make you stop talking.

“don’t,” he said. “don’t give me that look.”

your heart kicked up behind your ribs. he’d never grabbed your face like that before. never interrupted nor spoke like that.

it made your thighs press together. instinctive.

and he noticed.

he dipped closer, forehead brushing yours, and you could feel his heart beating in time with yours.

“you think i haven’t been watching you push?” he hissed. “every. little. act.”

you whimpered, lips parting, but he kept going.

“you’ve been begging for this,” he said, biting out the words. “not out loud. but with every goddamn thing you’ve done.”

you shivered.

“and you think i don’t see you?” he growled. “you think i don’t know exactly what that look means?”

his fingers tightened on your jaw, tilting your face toward his—close enough to kiss, but he didn’t. he just held you there, breath brushing your lips, eyes burning through you.

“tell me the truth,” he said, voice a warning, a promise. “tell me what you want.”

you could barely breathe.

your voice came out thin, cracked around the edges. “you, like this…” your eyes were wide, lashes wet, trembling as you looked up at him. “this is what i want.”

felix didn’t flinch.

didn’t soften.

he just stared, his grip on your jaw unrelenting, eyes dark and unforgiving as they searched your face—saw the way you shook beneath him, the way your thighs pressed together, the way your chest rose and fell in shallow, panicked little gasps.

“of course it is,” he said flatly.

you blinked.

he tilted your face up a little more, so much that it hurt your neck to hold the position. his voice dropped, hard and disgusted. “look at you. shaking like a leaf, soaking the fucking sheets—just because i stopped being nice.”

you winced.

but your cunt clenched hard.

his words were true. and he knew it. you weren’t just turned on. you were feral. dripping and desperate, your shame crawling over your skin like fire ants—but still, the burn felt good.

“you’re pathetic,” he said, letting go of your jaw like your skin burned his fingers. 

he pushed you back roughly, your bound wrists catching against the bed as your shoulders hit the mattress. his hands were already on your thighs, spreading them open without care. not gentle.

like you were his and he was sick of pretending otherwise.

“you want to be hated, don’t you? love isn’t it for you?” he muttered, gaze locked on your slick cunt as he stroked two fingers through the mess between your legs. 

your hips bucked.

“well,” felix said, voice like gravel dragged slow across glass, “if that’s what you want…”

his fingers sank into you—two at once, fast, merciless. your body jolted, a high cry tearing from your throat before you could stop it. he twisted his wrist, curled just right, and you felt the tremble start in your toes.

“i’ll give it to you.”

you gasped, back arching. “y-you don’t mean that,” you choked, words splintering on a sob. “you love me—”

“i’m gonna fuck you like i don’t.” he said, without softness. 

his fingers pulled free. you barely had a second to breathe before he shoved your thighs wide, leaned over, and pressed his cock to your dripping cunt—still wet.

he held there.

right at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing just enough to make you squirm, to make your hips buck in desperate little jerks that only dragged the moment out longer. he could’ve slammed in. could’ve torn the rest of you open in a single thrust, left you breathless and sobbing.

but he didn’t.

because under all that dark fire, under the roughness and anger, he was still him. still good. still your felix.

his jaw was tight, the muscle ticking as he looked down at you—ruined and trembling, legs spread wide, wrists bound and face flushed with lust and tears. he blinked, and for a second, just a second, you saw the question flicker through his expression.

“is that what you want?” he asked.

he was still offering you a way out. still giving you that choice even though the answer was clear.

you knew it for what it was.

you nodded, frantic. fast. moaning as you tried to roll your hips, tried to force him inside again, but his grip on your thigh only tightened.

“talk to me,” he rasped, a thread of control still clinging to him.

you blinked at him through the haze, a smile curling on your lips—half brat, half breathless.

“yes,” you said, voice thin and greedy. “yes, i want it. i want you to fuck me like you’re sick of me. like i finally got under your skin.”

he cursed.

low and vicious.

you saw it—the moment that final wall crumbled, the way the storm in his eyes finally spilled over. his cock pushed in deep, slow at first. he wanted to draw it out, make it last.

but then your cunt clenched—tight and wet and fluttering around him—and he snapped.

“you did,” he growled, pulling back and slamming in hard enough to make the bed jolt, your cry piercing the room. “you fucking did.”

his hips snapped forward again. it was harder this time, the rhythm punching out choked sounds from your throat with every thrust. not words anymore. just ragged little whimpers, helpless and high, your whole body jostling beneath him as he used you—fucked you—with none of the gentleness you’d always known.

“you wanted this,” he spat, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his hairline onto your chest as he folded you tighter, pushing your thighs up toward your shoulders to drive in even deeper. “you fucking asked for it.”

you sobbed—messy and wet as the tears finally spilled. they streaked hot down your cheeks, dripping into your hair, your jaw slack with pleasure too sharp to feel good and too good to survive. your wrists twisted uselessly in their binds, fingers curling tight as your whole body tried to keep up with the pace of him.

it was too much.

it was everything.

he growled—an actual growl, guttural—as he looked down at you, at the tears rolling over your cheeks, at the way your mouth opened and closed, begging silently for something neither of you could name.

his rhythm never faltered.

not once.

he watched your face twist with every thrust. watched you come apart. and even then, you couldn't stop.

your lips trembled open around another sob, your voice half-hoarse, but still you met his glare with a shaky smirk, eyes glazed and bratty to your last breath.

“i never knew you were capable of being mean,” you gasped, voice cracking as you arched under him.

he groaned, something between pain and disbelief, and slammed in so deep you screamed, your entire body jolting up the bed from the force of it.

“because i love you,” he growled, voice so low it scraped the inside of your chest. “i’ve only ever tried to treat you well. like you matter. like you’re everything to me.”

he leaned in closer, one hand pressing hard into your hip, the other curling around your throat.

“but that’s not what you wanted, was it?”

you sobbed. not an answer. it was just a pathetic sound.

he dipped lower, lips barely brushing yours. “you wanted this. you wanted me mean. you wanted me to use you, and now you’ve got it.”

his cock dragged out slow, and then drove back in so hard your moan broke on your tongue.

“you never wanted soft.”

you blinked up at him, tears hot and sticky down your temples, your mouth quivering.

“i was—” you panted, a hiccupped cry catching in your chest, “i was trying to prove a point.”

he sneered, not stopping, pounding into you like he wanted to fuck the brat right out of your soul.

“to who, y/n?” he hissed, words snapping like whips.

you moaned, high and messy, because you were still so turned on, because the way he said your name made your body sing even while you trembled.

“who?” he shouted again, voice rising.

and you said it.

whimpered it.

half-mindless, but not mindless enough.

“seungmin.”

felix went still.

then he laughed.

it was low. bitter. a hollow sound of disbelief as his hand slid up the length of your thigh, slow and mocking, his cock still throbbing just barely inside you.

“fucking knew it,” he muttered, more to himself than you, jaw tight as he gave a small, almost deranged shake of his head. “you and him. the way you bicker. the way you look at each other.”

his hand curled around your throat again, thumb dragging over the mess of tears smeared across your cheek. not to wipe them.

just to feel them.

“and of course you’d moan his name out while i’m balls deep in you.”

you gasped, breath stuttering under the press of his palm, legs twitching around his hips.

he laughed again—sharper now, teeth flashing in the low light. “fucking pathetic.”

you whimpered.

“here i am,” he snarled, voice dropping to a whisper, “treating you like you’re mine—spending months giving you everything. holding you when you cry. spoiling you.”

he slammed into you again, cruel and sudden.

you screamed, head snapping back.

“and you’ve been pushing me,” he said, voice quiet, almost calm—but beneath it, something was cracking.

another thrust, hard and fast, punching a choked cry out of your lungs.

“all of that just to prove a point to kim seungmin?”

your mouth dropped open. it was useless and silent, your head lolling on the pillow as his cock hit that deep, devastating spot again and again, your body unable to hide how badly you were still enjoying it.

he sneered. “do you even understand what you’re doing?”

your eyes flicked to him—lashes soaked—and your lips moved, trying to form a denial. but you couldn’t lie.

not with your cunt sucking him in so greedily. not with the moans that still clawed up your throat even when you bit down on them. not with the guilt chewing holes through your stomach while your body begged for more.

“i-i wasn’t trying to—” you whispered, but he cut you off.

“you weren’t trying?”

he laughed. dark and sharp and filled with something that sounded like it hurt his ribs to release.

“you’re worse than i thought,” he spat, pulling out just enough to let the next thrust slam in deeper. “you don’t even know what game you’re playing. you’re playing me, you’re playing him—”

you didn’t know anymore.

if he was really mad. if this was just another version of his anger wrapped in arousal, or if something had actually shattered under the weight of everything you’d done. you couldn’t tell if he meant the things he said—or if he was just saying them because it was what you’d pushed for until something inside him snapped.

all you knew was that your head was spinning, your lungs barely worked, and your body couldn’t stop trembling around him.

“i’m close,” you whimpered, your voice a rasp, broken and high and soaked in panic, “felix, please—”

he didn’t slow. if anything, he fucked you harder.

you were sobbing now, face sticky with tears, wrists straining in the binds as your body shook from the pressure curling tighter and tighter in your belly.

“i don’t think you deserve to cum,” he hissed, biting the words like they tasted foul. “not after what you did. you little bitch.”

the word slapped.

“i’m sorry,” you cried, the words tumbling out, raw and hoarse and true. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it, i didn’t, felix, please, i’m so sorry, let me cum—”

and for a second, just a second, something shifted in his face. his eyes—not all the way, but just a little—softened.

he looked down at you, at your flushed face, your tear-soaked skin, your body trembling and still trying to push back against him, even through the guilt, even through the shame. begging for him.

he cursed under his breath. a low, ragged sound.

then he pulled out.

you whined—sharp and instinctive, your whole body lurching, chasing him.

“no, please—”

but he grabbed your hips and turned you, until you were flat on your stomach, then dragging you up to your knees. 

he leaned in, lips at your ear, voice back to that whisper.

“all fours.”

you scrambled to obey, tears still dripping from your chin onto the sheets, your ass high, back arched, your pussy swollen and dripping.

he stared for a long second.

then, flatly:

“prove it. prove your sorry.”

he knelt behind you, one hand resting on your lower back, the other wrapped around the curve of your ass—fingers digging in, spreading you open so wide the air hit your cunt like ice.

but he didn’t move.

“you want to cum so badly?” he said, voice low and flat, unreadable, like it didn’t matter either way. “do it yourself.”

you blinked, stunned.

he gripped your ass harder, a sharp squeeze that made you jolt forward, but he didn’t move to stop you. 

“come on,” he said, the cruelty now bitter. “you were so good at playing games earlier.”

your whole body shook.

you whimpered once and then moved. slowly. shamefully.

you rocked your hips back. tentative at first. your slick folds kissed the head of his cock and you moaned, soft and strangled, before pushing further, inching down onto him until the stretch began to burn again. your was cunt pulsing with how close you were, how desperately your body wanted him to take over.

but he didn’t.

“make yourself cum,” he snapped, voice tighter now. 

you nodded, rocking your hips again. you slid down fully this time, burying him inside, your body jerking as your sob turned to a long, high cry. your knees were slipping, your arms too bound to help you balance, and every time you moved your hips, your body twitched with the effort.

he just watched.

watched you ride his cock without rhythm, without grace. his hands stayed on your ass, holding it open, holding you wide for him to see.

but he didn’t help. you were doing it alone.

“felix, i can’t—”

“you wanted this.”

each roll of your hips got weaker. your knees buckled inward, the sheer weight of him inside you unbearable. 

your arms were still bound, chest pressed into the sheets. you tried to keep going. but your body wouldn’t move. 

you shook your head, weakly, voice cracking as you rasped, “i—i can’t… i can’t do it…”

you felt his exhale first—long and deep. then the weight of his hands on your hips shifted. and his voice followed, low and so done.

“of course you can’t.”

you shivered.

“you couldn’t even fuck yourself properly,” he muttered, hands gripping your hips with new purpose. “you begged for this. cried for it. ruined both of us trying to prove something—and now you can’t even finish what you started?”

you sobbed but that was all he gave you time for. because he snapped his hips forward. you screamed, head slamming into the pillow, the thrust knocking your whole body up the bed.

and then he didn’t stop.

he fucked into you from behind, deep and punishing, dragging you back onto his cock with every stroke, the sound of skin on skin wet and violent, your cries rising in pitch until you couldn’t hold anything in anymore.

“isn’t this what you wanted?” he growled, voice right at your ear now, one hand on the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist so tight it burned. “to get used like this? to cry on my dick and act like you’re sorry?”

your throat was raw, your eyes stinging, your body screaming with the oncoming wave, your orgasm building so hard it almost felt like pain.

“felix, fuck—i’m gonna—”

his pace didn’t stutter.

didn’t falter.

“yeah?” he breathed, his voice a rasp, full of hate and heat and something so possessive it twisted your stomach. “that’s right.”

his thrusts turned vicious, his cock pounding into you, his voice ragged and shaking.

“cum then.”

and you did.

you came with a scream—full-bodied, wrecked, your spine arching like it was trying to tear free from your skin. it hit so hard you thought for a second you might black out. your pussy clamped down around him, fluttering and pulsing in rhythmic spasms, gushing slick down his cock in hot, wet waves that soaked your thighs and his lap and the sheets beneath you.

felix groaned. a sound ripped from the very pit of his chest, primal and deep, his pace faltering for the first time as he felt it. felt you soak him. felt you break.

“fuck, ” he hissed, rutting through the mess of your orgasm, the loud slap of his hips against your soaked skin. “you’re dripping, baby, fuck, you’re making such a mess.”

you sobbed into the sheets, body twitching, overstimulation crawling up your spine like static. but he wouldn’t let up.

and then—slowly, like the fire had finally started to burn itself out—his rhythm began to falter. just a little. his groans turned heavier, strained, his thrusts rougher but less precise. his body hunched forward, chest heaving, cock throbbing inside you as he buried himself one last time.

he shuddered against your back, hips twitching as he came inside of you, the warmth of it spilling deep and raw, filling you in heavy bursts. he stayed there for a moment, his hands slowly loosening their grip on your hips, breath ghosting against your shoulder.

then, gently, slowly, his body folded over yours.

his forehead pressed to the space between your shoulder blades. his chest to your back. one hand slid forward and rested just beneath your ribs.

he stayed there, breathing with you.

then, he eased back.

he softly slid one palm down the arch of your spine. then came the slow shift of his hips. his cock slipped out, so tender in contrast to everything before.

you whimpered from the loss and the mess. his wascum already spilling out of you in lazy drips, sliding down your thighs, thick and warm, clinging to the backs of your knees as gravity pulled it down. you twitched from the sensitivity, your body still trembling in little aftershocks, your hips useless, your arms limp where they lay tangled and bound under your chest.

you heard the faint shuffle of a drawer, the rustle of fabric, the hiss of warm water being poured. your eyes fluttered closed, head sinking into the pillow, your whole body too loose to lift.

you barely registered the soft wet cloth between your thighs until it was there. he held you gently, one hand under your hip to tilt you, the other cleaning you with slow, careful strokes, wiping away the slick, the sweat, the release still dripping out of you.

he then settled you on clean sheets, wrapped a new blanket over your shoulders.

still nothing.

not a single word.

but he lay beside you, close but not pressed in, his fingers brushing soft through your hair, over your temple, down the curve of your jaw. you blinked slow and you opened your eyes.

and there he was.

your felix.

bathed in the low light of the room, hair a tousled halo of gold against the pillow, freckles blooming soft across his cheeks, lips pink and parted just barely. he looked tired. beautiful. like something that shouldn’t exist outside a dream.

you loved it. all of it. the softness now. the brutality before.

the way he made space for every version of you. the way he let himself be more than just the sun.

“i love you, felix.”

his hand stilled, resting against your cheek. his eyes softened then blinked, and they turned glassy.

“i love you too,” he whispered, his voice low, husky, still thick with the weight of everything.

you gave a little smile, lids already starting to droop again, your limbs heavy under the blanket he’d wrapped around you.

“i wouldn’t want you any other way,” you murmured.

that made him laugh.

and then you laughed too. barely a sound, more breath than voice, your smile curling into the pillow as your eyes slipped closed again.

he stayed beside you.

his fingers returned to your hair, softer than ever now, smoothing it back from your face as your breathing evened out, your body finally letting go.

and when you fell asleep, it was in silence.

the next morning, you woke slowly—warm, sore in all the right places, and still tangled in the soft scent of felix. the sheets around you were a little crooked, the pillow beside you empty.

you blinked blearily and reached for your phone, but it wasn’t the screen that caught your eye.

there was a note. folded and sitting neatly on the nightstand.

recording right now, but i’ll be back soon. pour yourself a cup of coffee. i love you! – lix ♡

you smiled—small, sleepy, still a little ruined from the night before. the words made your chest ache and flutter all at once. he hadn’t said anything heavy. no apologies. no over-explanations. just soft and simple. just felix.

you stretched out your limbs, wincing slightly at the ache before dragging yourself out of bed and into one of felix’s oversized sweaters and boxers. 

barefoot and quietly smug, you padded down the hallway into the kitchen.

and there he was.

seungmin.

leaning against the counter in sweats and a hoodie, eyes fixed on his phone, coffee half-drunk on the table beside him. he looked up when he heard you and you did what anyone would do after getting absolutely obliterated in the next room over by his bandmate.

you pretended nothing happened.

“morning,” you said, voice light, moving straight to the coffee pot. “didn’t think you’d be up.”

“i’ve been up,” he said simply.

you nodded and reached for a mug—felix’s, the pale blue one with the tiny chip in the rim—and poured yourself a cup. steam curled up around your face, and you focused on it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

and then you felt it.

his presence. he stepped closer. closer.

you didn’t dare turn around.

then, casually—like it was nothing—he reached over your shoulder and set something on the counter in front of you.

sixty bucks in cash.

you stared at the bills for a second.

then turned.

slowly.

seungmin was already taking a sip of his coffee, eyes flicking to yours over the rim of his mug.

“congrats.”

your mouth twitched, the corner pulling into the smallest smile.

you looked down at the cash again and without saying anything, you plucked the bills off the counter and shoved them straight into the front pocket of felix’s hoodie like you’d just been handed your trophy.

“you really thought i wouldn’t pull it off?” you asked, turning back to your coffee, tone breezy.

“i hoped you wouldn’t,” he deadpanned. “i was rooting for the soft boy.”

you huffed a laugh, lifting the mug to your lips. “he’s still soft.”

seungmin gave you a long, dry look.

you shrugged, eyes twinkling over the rim. “...just not all the time.”

he snorted.

then leaned back against the counter, sipping slow from his mug. “so,” he said casually, “how’d you do it?”

“do what?”

“make him snap.” 

you licked your lips, fighting another smile. “i might’ve… slipped your name in there a few times.”

his eyes narrowed, slow. “yeah?”

“just—it got him pretty worked up.” you said, laughing as you set the mug down. seungmin stared for a beat.

then—he rolled his eyes. “of course it did.”

there was a long pause. not uncomfortable. just tension.

he said, quiet but clear, “tell him he doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

you nodded.

“i will.”

you stepped back slowly, letting the silence hold, and turned toward the hallway—when the front door clicked open.

both your heads turned.

felix stepped in, hair tied back, hoodie sleeves bunched at his elbows, a little windblown from the walk. his eyes lit up the moment he saw you.

“hey, angel,” he said, smile so warm it melted straight into your ribs.

you crossed the room in a few slow steps, rising onto your toes to meet him halfway. your hand curled around his jaw, thumb brushing the skin just below his cheekbone, and you kissed him.

his other hand found your waist immediately, like muscle memory, pulling you in as he smiled against your lips. he pulled away just enough to wrap his arms around you, tucking you into his chest. his chin rested lightly on top of your head, breath warm as it fanned through your hair.

you melted into him, your hands slipping under the hem of his hoodie, fingertips grazing the bare skin at his waist. his heart beat steady against your cheek, and you let yourself breathe him in.

then, behind you, a shift in the air.

felix’s gaze lifted—over your shoulder.

met seungmin’s across the room.

you didn’t see what was unraveling between the two of them.

after a moment, you pulled back slightly, enough to tilt your head and meet his eyes.

felix looked down at you with a smile. and that was all you needed.

[networklovemp3]

hoping to do some writing/posting again later this week, if anyone wants to send requests to give me inspiration my inbox is always open!! <3

[networklovemp3]

kai i can’t stop thinking about inexperienced loser!vernon who is pussy drunk and keeps asking for praise with everything he does for you in bed

omggggg ok, you got me thinking about that too! i thought about it so much i ended up writing a little something about it hehehehehe thank u for the inspo!

study break

⊹ overview — pairing: vernon x f!reader genre: academic crush · college au · fluff with tension themes: study sessions, playful tension, soft boy vernon, emotional first time cw: sexual content (MDNI), praise kink, academic stress, light cursing, mild virginity mention, unprotected sex.

minors do not interact!

you didn’t really expect him to say yes. you’d waited until the end of class, heart racing, palms sweaty, practically on the verge of begging. and he didn’t even hesitate.

“yeah, i can help you study. whenever you want.”

just like that. like it was no big deal.

except it was. to you, at least.

because vernon was the kind of guy who always knew what was going on in class. he never raised his hand. never showed off but he always had the answers. smart in that quiet, lowkey way that was kind of annoying and kind of hot.

he wore the same three hoodies every week, chewed on his pen caps, smiled a little too wide when someone laughed at his jokes. you weren’t exactly close but he always talked to you. always saved you a seat, even when you were late.

you’d been skating by on half-effort and charm for most of the semester but now, two weeks from finals, the numbers were clear: you were fucked.

so here you are. in your room on a friday evening, surrounded by notebooks, flashcards, and the terrifying realization that you remember absolutely nothing from the past three months.

vernon’s sitting cross-legged on your bed, flipping through a color-coded study guide he made himself. he’s wearing his glasses and one of those faded hoodies, sleeves pushed up to his forearms. you’re trying not to stare.

“so if the variable shifts...” he starts, pointing at the page.

you groan and flop back onto the pillows. “i hate everything.”

he glances at you over his glasses. “okay, that’s a little dramatic.”

“you don’t get it. my brain physically cannot do this right now.”

“then let’s take a break,” he offers, like it’s no big deal. “we’ll come back to it.”

“and do what?” you mutter, half-buried in the blanket. “kiss each other?”

the words slip out before you can think. more dramatic than anything, a joke almost. except your voice comes out too soft, too honest, and he freezes.

slowly, he looks up. “what?”

you blink. “nothing. ignore me. i’m delirious from all the... statistics.”

“no, hold on...” he’s blushing, but he doesn’t look away. “you... did you mean that?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. “maybe?”

vernon stares for a second longer. then, in the quietest voice imaginable:

“i wouldn’t mind.”

the air shifts. your heart jumps. he licks his lips, nervous. and when you crawl across the bed toward him, he doesn’t move. just watches, frozen, like he can’t believe this is happening.

you kiss him gently. his lips are soft, and he tastes like mint gum. he lets out this tiny noise. a surprised, breathy hum that goes straight to your stomach.

he kisses back slow, unsure. like he’s still waiting for the punchline. his hand comes up to your waist, hesitates, then settles there, feather-light.

you pull back a little. “you okay?”

he nods too fast. “yeah. i just.. i haven’t done this much. like... at all.”

you blink. “at all?”

he shrugs, cheeks red. “not really. nothing serious.”

you feel something flutter low in your chest. you kiss him again, softer this time, hands sliding under the hem of his hoodie.

he gasps when your fingers brush his skin.

“do you want this?” you murmur.

he nods again, smaller this time. “yeah. but... i don’t know if i’ll be good at it.”

you smile, tugging the hoodie over his head. “lucky for you, i’m a great teacher.”

he laughs, breathless, and you push him gently back onto the bed.

you start slow. easing down onto him with your hands on his chest, and he looks up at you like he can’t believe this is real. like he might wake up any second.

he’s gripping the sheets. breathing hard. his lips are parted, and his eyes keep flicking from your face to where your bodies meet, like he can’t decide what’s more overwhelming.

“fuck...” he breathes. “are you... is this okay? am i... hurting you?”

you lean down and kiss him, soft and lingering, and he melts under you like sugar in heat.

“you’re perfect” you whisper. “just like this.”

he moans against your lips. hands trembling on your thighs.

“was that okay?” he asks again, voice thin. “when i... when i touched you like that?”

you nod, rocking your hips slow, and his breath stutters.

“you like that?” he asks, desperate now.

“i love it.” you murmur, watching his eyes flutter shut.

“can you... can you say it again?”

you lower your mouth to his ear, your voice a warm hum.

“you’re doing so good for me. you feel so fucking good.”

he chokes out a sound. a half-sob, half-moan, and arches up into you.

“oh my god...”

you guide his hands to your hips and let him move you. just a little. just enough.

he’s hesitant at first, like he doesn’t trust himself. but when you whisper “that’s it, babe. just like that” he grips tighter and thrusts up once, shallow and shaky.

you gasp, and his eyes snap open.

“did i... was that good?”

“yes” you breathe. “do it again.”

he does. a little harder this time.

you moan, and his whole body jolts like he’s been shocked.

“you’re so warm...” he says, voice breaking. “i didn’t know it would feel like this.”

you kiss his temple, hands sliding down his sides.

“you’re making me feel amazing.” you whisper. “you’re such a good boy...”

he whimpers, brow furrowed, overwhelmed.

“i wanna be good” he mumbles. “i wanna be everything you want.”

you grind down against him, slow and deliberate, and he gasps again, hands flying to your waist.

“don’t worry...” you say. “you’re doing perfect, babe.”

he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, head buried in your shoulder, whispering broken things against your skin. “please don’t stop.” “i can’t believe this is real.” “i wanna make you come.” over and over.

when you slide a hand between your bodies, fingers rubbing where you need it most, his mouth drops open in awe.

“wait... you’re doing that... while i’m...? fuck.”

“you wanna help me?”

he nods frantically. “tell me what to do. please. i’ll do anything.”

you guide his hand. show him how to touch you. he’s clumsy but eager. murmuring, “like this? is that okay? am i... am i making you feel good?”

you moan his name, and he nearly loses it.

“again... say it again, please” he begs.

you ride him harder now, and he’s falling apart beneath you, trembling, eyes wide and wet and dazed.

“god, you’re gonna make me...” he gasps. “i can’t... please, tell me... can i?”

“yes, babe...” you whisper. “come for me.”

that’s all it takes.

he lets out the softest, most broken moan you’ve ever heard. your name, tangled in thank yous and curses. and comes with his hands fisting the sheets and his body shaking under yours.

you both lie there for a long moment. then, barely above a whisper:

“can i see you again?”  

“yeah” you say, without hesitation. “you can come over whenever.”

he hums, lips brushing your shoulder.  

“even if i don’t bring flashcards?”

you smile.  

“especially if you don’t.”

he laughs quietly, and for the first time since he walked into your room, you feel him fully relax. safe, wanted, held.

you think about the way he asked if he was doing okay. over and over. and how you’re already dying to tell him yes again. and again. and again.

[networklovemp3]

writing isn’t hard it’s just emotionally devastating and time-consuming and requires full body possession by an idea

[networklovemp3]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[networklovemp3]

fortunate change (hjs; 10 years' love)

pairing: joshua x f!reader genre: smut; est relationship; early morning/in-bed sex; soft joshua; whipped shua agenda; p in v sex; MDNI!!! a/n: i am not embarrassed to say that i am a soft joshua supporter 10th ANNIV. TAGLIST FORM HERE

masterlist | jeonghan | jun

It starts slow. Everything with him always does.

Sunlight creeps in through the edges of the curtain, painting soft golden warmth on the rumpled sheets and over his bare shoulder, his spine a lazy curve as he sleeps on his side, half draped over you. His chest rises and falls in time with yours. The room is quiet save for the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the occasional birdsong outside.

You think you could stay like this forever.

Joshua shifts slightly beside you, his thigh sliding between yours. His hand is already on your waist — it must have stayed there all night — fingers splayed possessively across your skin. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and breathes you in.

“Mm,” he hums, still mostly asleep. “You smell nice…”

You smile drowsily. “You always say that.”

“You always do,” he mumbles back, voice low and scratchy from sleep.

He lifts his head, finally, eyes half-lidded and soft, and leans in to press the warmest, slowest kiss to the side of your mouth. Then another. And another. He kisses like this moment, this skin-on-skin warmth that pulls him closer to you each time he exhales.

“You’re hard,” you murmur, teasing, nudging your thigh higher between his legs.

He groans softly and laughs into your neck. “Can’t help it. You’re right here. Being warm. Breathing.”

“Wow. I really did all that just by existing?”

“Mmhm,” he replies, sleep-drunk and smiling. “It’s like… the world’s finally on its axis when you’re next to me. Like everything’s warmer, just because you’re here.”

That makes your stomach flutter in a way no dirty talk ever could. He always says things like that — quietly, sincerely, like it’s the most obvious truth in the universe.

Joshua kisses you again, slower this time, one hand cupping your cheek while the other slides down your waist, anchoring you closer. His hips press forward, just enough for you to feel him — hard and hot against your thigh.

You shift under the sheets, legs parting slightly, the fabric rustling as you guide his hand lower. He doesn’t say anything — just touches you. His fingers slip beneath your underwear and slide through your folds, slow and unhurried.

“So wet already,” he breathes, kissing your shoulder. “You missed me?”

“We’ve been in the same bed all night.”

He gives you a sleepy grin. “Still.”

When he finally moves over you, it’s with unbearable tenderness — the kind that makes your chest ache. His hands frame either side of your head on the pillow, fingers splayed wide like he needs to steady himself just from looking at you. He watches you beneath him, eyes half-lidded but focused, mouth parted as if he’s still caught in that dreamlike edge between sleep and need.

His chest brushes against yours, warm and bare, skin sticking slightly where you’re already flushed and overheated. You feel the soft line of his stomach glide over yours as he shifts forward, hips slotting between your legs. Every movement is deliberate, like he doesn’t want to break the spell of the morning — like he’s savoring this before the rest of the world can touch it.

Then — slowly — he presses in.

The head of his cock nudges against your entrance, slick with your arousal, and he exhales shakily, the sound tight in his throat. His eyes flick to yours, wordless and careful.

You nod, barely, and he begins to sink into you inch by inch.

The stretch is slow — just enough to steal your breath and make your fingers clutch his shoulders. He never looks away. His gaze stays locked to yours like he wants to watch every single reaction play out on your face, like he’s memorizing the way your brows knit and your lips part in a soft gasp as he fills you.

Joshua groans — low, trembling — like this is everything he’s been waiting for. “Fuck… baby,” he murmurs, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel—god, you feel so perfect.”

There’s no rush. No urgency. No wild rhythm.

Just the quiet, steady sound of your breaths mingling, your bodies pressing together, and the bed creaking faintly beneath the slow roll of his hips. He starts to move — long, dragging thrusts that make you feel every single part of him. His pelvis presses against yours with each slow push forward, grinding deep before retreating again, only to fill you once more with aching precision.

It’s not just sex. It’s not even really about release. It’s about being here — being with him like this, in the golden warmth of a morning that belongs to no one else.

You wrap your legs around his waist, heels pressing into the small of his back to pull him impossibly closer. Your body arches up instinctively, needing more of him.

“You feel good,” you whisper, barely audible.

Joshua leans down and kisses you — not hurried, not hungry. Just slow. His mouth slides over yours like silk, tongue slipping in to brush against yours with aching tenderness. He kisses you like a secret. Like a vow.

“You feel like home,” he whispers into your lips, and it makes something twist deep inside you.

The room is warm now. You can’t tell if it’s the sunlight or the weight of his body or the way his love feels — slow and molten — settling between your ribs.

His thrusts stay deep and unhurried, hips rocking into you like a tide. Every movement says I love you. I missed you. I need you. He tilts his hips slightly, grinding just enough to drag across that spot inside you that makes your breath catch, and when he feels your thighs tense, he moans softly against your neck.

“You’re so good to me,” he breathes. “Always feel so good—god, I love you like this.”

He trails kisses along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, your shoulder. “Wanna stay like this. Wanna stay in bed with you forever.”

You let your hands roam — up the smooth plane of his back, fingers skating over the flex of his shoulder blades, then down, slow, nails dragging lightly. The muscles under your touch tense and ripple, and he shudders, his hips stuttering just once before he steadies again.

The way he’s holding himself up is shaky now — arms trembling slightly, his breath getting heavier. You can feel how close he is, how his rhythm gets a little less controlled with every thrust.

You press your lips to his temple, brushing away damp strands of hair, and whisper, “come with me.”

He moans your name into your shoulder, muffled and broken, and then he’s coming — hips pressed tight to yours, cock pulsing deep as he spills into you. His whole body tenses before melting into yours, collapsing gently so he can wrap his arms around you, bury his face in your neck, and breathe.

Your fingers thread through his hair, soothing, as you both try to come down from it together. His heart beats against yours, fast and unsteady.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull out. Just stays there, tucked inside you, chest flush to yours, breath slowing with each passing second.

And when the air finally stills and the sun fully stretches across the bed, warming everything in gold, he lifts his head and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“See?” he murmurs, smiling like he knows something you don’t. “Still warm. Still on axis. That’s you.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh. “You’re so cheesy.”

He grins, then nuzzles into your neck again. “And you love it.”

And with the way you cling to him — legs still wrapped around his hips, your fingers softly stroking his back — he’s not wrong.

He shifts just slightly inside you, and you feel him stir again.

“…You’re not done, are you?” you whisper.

Joshua hums. Smiles against your throat.

“Not even close.”

ˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist @gyuhao365

[networklovemp3]

gagging on it slobbering all over it riding it like he’s a wild untameable horse doing splits and jumping jacks and backflips on it breathing it injecting it into my veins

[networklovemp3]

sweet

jeongan/joshua x needy f!reader thoughts (nsfw 18+ mdni!!!)

jeonghan and joshua as your perfect sweet boyfriends who take you on a beach vacation, complete with a private villa-style room. which is perfect for when you get especially needy after spending the whole day at the beach. the three of you had taken your time in the shower, washing off the salt from the ocean, when you started to squirm pressed in between the two. you couldn't help but press your thighs together, watching the water drip off of them.

and of course, they both noticed rather quickly. although joshua was more hesitant, concerned that you'd barely eaten, only having consumed fruity cocktails by the water hours ago. fortunately for you, he couldn't say no to your big pleading eyes, and unfortunately for jeonghan, who was sent to obtain any sort of sustenance he could for you.

in the meantime, joshua distracted you by laying you out on the bed, giving you slow kisses and even softer touches. he brushed his knuckles against your neck, down your sides, ignoring your hips that kept trying to arch towards him. it was making you even more sensitive, starting to feel crazy with need.

"you're going to need energy if you want us both all night, baby," joshua whispered, but you ignored his logical thinking, trying to push yourself even closer to him. joshua conceded if only slightly, trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, and then he was pushing you back into the bed and nudging your soft bathrobe open. the time he spent on your stomach and thighs felt like years, but after some time he finally, finally pressed an open kiss to your mound.

immediately you arched into his mouth, his big warm hands pressing you back into the mattress and attempting to keep you still. again, he was just as patient as before, taking his time swallowing you up. the only time he broke his concentration was to let out a moan at the amount you were leaking onto the white sheets.

soon enough, you started to thrash violently in his hold, unable to handle the teasing any longer. you were desperate, you needed something more. joshua tried to calm you back down, but it was no use.

"you're being too impatient, we have to be good and wait for jeonghan to get back," joshua frowned up at you, smoothing a hand over your leg.

"i can't wait," you whined in response. "i need you now. i need jeonghan. i need him, please."

"you're really going to make me go get him?" joshua watched as you writhed on the bed like you were in pain, working yourself up even more.

"yes! please, shua. i'll eat after, i'll sleep after, i'll do anything you guys want."

he could only sigh at your begging, standing up and grabbing a pair of underwear to slip on under his own robe, peaking his head out the door before venturing out. luckily jeonghan must have been on his way back because within seconds joshua was quite literally dragging your other boyfriend through the door. the bags of food he found were quickly discarded in the entry as jeonghan was placed in front of you.

"i take it from shua's attitude that our good girl wasn't being very good?" jeonghan asked, leaning forward and dragging you into a sitting position in bed. you could only look down guiltily, already starting to come out of your frenzy now that your other partner was present.

jeonghan swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, watching as your mouth followed it, trying to take it into your mouth. "you're going to be good for us now though, right? tell us what you want."

"want to be good. want to sit on you, please?" you asked, feeling your skin heat up at the thought of finally getting what you want.

the boys looked at each other, nodded, and then jeonghan was sitting against the headboard dragging you down into his lap, and joshua was settling behind you. as jeonghan pressed you down on his length, joshua slid his hands to glide over your front.

"hannie," you sniffled out at the feeling, pressing your face into jeonghan's neck.

"see angel, so good for us, fuck," he groaned, feeling you tighten around him immediately.

between jeonghan rocking up into you, and joshua touching and squeezing you from behind, you knew you weren't going to last long with how sensitive you were. you gasped and shivered in their holds, throwing your head back. joshua was quick to take advantage, softly biting at your neck, and jeonghan sighed watching you both.

"come on, angel, you've got to cum soon, so our dear shua can eat it out of you," jeonghan breathed, causing joshua to moan behind you.

you started to rock more relentlessly on jeonghan's lap as you got closer, and joshua decided to help you out by reaching down to press down on your throbbing nub. you unraveled, crying out as joshua whispered praises into your ear about how good you were going to taste after.

jeonghan started to press even deeper into you, chasing his own high as you were in the midst of yours. you started whining again, asking, begging, him to fill you up. always eager to give you what you want, his hips stuttered a final time and then you were milking him for all he was worth.

as the two of you came down, muscles relaxing, breathing hard, joshua placed a hand over the one jeonghan had placed on your hip. your hands struggled to pull them both even closer, so they leaned down on either side to press warm kisses on your bare shoulders, their damp hair tickling your skin.

"our needy girl," joshua murmured into your skin.

"our sweet girl," jeonghan replied.

[networklovemp3]

⏾ electronic network love ᯓᡣ𐭩

welcome! i'm a simple moongirl, so you can call me moon! just your friendly freaky neighborhood kpop reader/occasional writer who is currently in love with svt <3 my inbox is pretty much always open to ideas, scenarios, requests, kpop yapping, whatever, as long as you are patient about a response! my favorite recs: favorites my current works: moongirl.writes ⏾

⏾ i'm mostly interested in writing seventeen right at the moment, and usually just my biases of a group! but you can always send something and i can try my best if i feel like i can do it.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 jeonghan, joshua, mingyu, minghao, seungcheol especially <3 but i also love a lot of other groups so i might post/rec those, and i would especially be willing to write gg idol x fem!reader (itzy especially)

⏾ i'm interested in writing sfw and nsfw works, but i will be mainly talking about/interacting with mature content, so please do not follow if you are not 18+ and read my warnings on my works!

⚠️ topics i am not interested in writing about include: incest/stepcest, noncon, age gaps, high/weed smut, any age play, etc

do not repost or feed any of my work into AI. i will never use AI in my writing.

[networklovemp3]

drinks or coffee (c.vn)

the bad party takes a turn when you end up competing in a game with the friend you've been secretly hooking up with

✧˖* pairing: vernon x fem!reader

✧˖* w.c: 5k

✧˖* genre: friends with benefits, porn with plot. MINORS DON'T INTERACT.

✧˖* content warnings: one use of y/n, vernon's a waist grabber, pet names, alcohol consumption, teasing, car sex | smut warnings: softdom!vernon (but lowkey a switch), public and semi-public shenanigans (club bathroom, parking lot and inside the car), mutual masturbation, desperate dry humping, fingering, choking, unprotected penetration, cream pie.

🎧: drinks or coffee — rosé

"standing in the corner of a crowded place this is boring, till i heard your name and now i'm staying for you, we're just friends it's okay we don't have to talk, i know that you want me"

check out my main masterlist ♡ dividers used

✧˖* note: the second half was not proofread. also, this was supposed to be done for his bday, but hey, a few days later is not that bad!

don't be shy! share your thoughts!

“This party's ass." 

You side eye your friend before replying, “I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but…” 

“Fuck.” Chan sighs as he leaves his drink on a tiny table by his side. “I’m sorry I brought you here.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” You chuckle and put your hand on his shoulder, jokingly comforting him. “Wherever you go, I go. That’s our friend code.” 

When Chan asked you to be his plus one to his coworker’s birthday party so he wouldn’t be alone, you didn’t think twice about it. He’s done the same for you countless times. 

“Still, thank you. I wouldn’t have survived this long here without you.” He replies, defeated. 

“We’ve barely been here for over an hour.” You can’t help but chuckle at your tired friend. It seems even extroverted people have their limits. 

“What do you say if... in half an hour, nothing interesting happens. We’ll leave.” Chan pleads with his eyes that you agree with his escape plan, but someone gives you no time to. 

A shout from across the house draws both of your attention. 

“Who wants to play the jeopardy game Giselle made!? There’s a prize for the winner!” 

The interesting thing you were begging to happen calls you in the form of a deep-voiced frat boy, and you both lock eyes with raised brows, knowing how you’re going to spend the night from now on. 

Your competitive spirit takes over you as you walk towards where you think the game is being held. Passing between the sweaty bodies dancing to the terrible electronic music blasting from a speaker placed on the corner of the kitchen, you feel like the win's already yours, not even taking into consideration whoever you might be up against. 

It’s when you’re about to cross the door to the kitchen that you hear it. 

“C’mon, Vernon! Don’t be a chicken!” 

Your ears perk up at his name being called so close to you, there, at a random party. Neither he nor Chan had told you he was going to be there. 

A hand drags you away from the door you were obstructing and into the kitchen, where a cardboard box with blue pieces of paper sticking to it is clearly meant to be the game. 

“Are you okay?” Chan asks with a slightly concerned face. 

“Vernon’s here.” Whatever excitement you feel bubbling up inside you, you try to hide as to not be too obvious to your best friend.

Chan and you are concrete proof that friendship between a man and a woman can stay purely platonic. As cliché as it sounds, it’s closer to a sibling bond than anything else. You’d trust him with your life, and he’d also trust you with his. Being friends with him is a constant in your life. He’s present even in your earliest memories, and you can confidently say that being anything more than that has never crossed any of your minds. That's not the case with Vernon and you. 

College allowed you to broaden your circle of friends, from being just the two of you to a whopping 14 people. The synergy is top tier, and all the different types of friendships within the group coexist to find a perfect balance. 

With a group that big, it’s normal for you to form small groups when all of you hang out together. Most of the time, you sit completely opposite to Vernon. You barely even talk to each other on nights like those. It just looks like you choose to hang out with other people in the group before one another. Secretly, the stolen glances from across the room tell otherwise. 

It didn’t start that way, your bond with Vernon. You first started talking more after being paired up together for a project in one of the electives your entire group decided to take for fun. You didn’t have the chance to talk much before, and working together, even if neither of you cared much about that class, really cemented your friendship. 

You always thought he was hot. The way he went on with life, so calm and sure of himself, really attracted you to him, but you didn’t expect it to go beyond that. A group of friends so big, even after surviving a long time and managing to stay together, is still fragile. The last thing you wanted was to make everything weird. 

But months passed, and the tension you felt every time you’d end up alone with him finally reached a peak where it was unbearable. Vernon felt it as well, and he decided he couldn’t resist it any longer. 

You didn’t talk about it. You didn’t set any rules after the first time it happened. Neither of you told any of your friends, then it happened again, and again, and again, and it was clear neither of you wanted to stop it. He was irresistible, and you weren’t trying to find a cure for that growing addiction.

Vernon would be manspreading on a chair, paying attention to whatever anecdote is being told, so nonchalant one would think he doesn’t understand how hot he is. And from time to time, when no one was looking, he’d sneak a glance at you, catching you red handed with your eyes already on him –you’re sure you look at him more than he does. He’d raise one of his thick eyebrows ever so slightly, only for you to notice, and that feeling at the pit of your stomach would burst into flames. 

When the hang out stretched until it was too late in the night, he'd offer to take you to your place, using the late hour and your need to take the public transport as an excuse, you’d get on his car with no suspicions, and you’d always end up in the apartment that’s closer, ripping each other’s clothes off in between desperate kisses that you’d been suffering to hold out on.  

Other times, when instead of a chill hang out, the group decided to go out to the club, both of you would mysteriously disappear at the same time, hiding in any available toilet stall with no care in the world, moaning into each other’s ear hoping the music drowns out the sounds. 

Unless you’re just bad at disguising your meet-ups, Chan's the only one who knows of that other aspect of your friendship with Vernon. The only time he ever spent the night at your apartment, Chan showed up to your building unannounced and caught Vernon leaving in a hurry with the same clothes as the night before. 

“You asshole! You told me you had other plans tonight!” Chan sees him first, entering the very same room just behind you, and he goes for a man hug after raising his eyebrows at you. 

Chan had his concerns at first, same as you, about the wellness of the friend group, but he quickly realized nothing much had changed in the dynamics except your late night activities, so he just moved on to tease you about it any chance he got.

“Sorry, bro, I didn’t think it’d be the same party.” His low voice quickly stirs something inside you. The party’s not boring anymore and you’re staying until you get what you want.

“Good thing we know someone else here!” With your best friendly smile, you turn around to say hello. “Hi Vern.”

You’ve always greeted your friends with a kiss on the cheek, so it's not out of the ordinary to do it with him too. But when his hand tightens a little more than normal on your waist, and your lips remain a millisecond longer on his cheek, the temperature inside the room rises noticeably. 

“Are you guys playing?” Vernon asks after letting go of his grip on you. He looks at Chan to wait for his answer as well, but you want to believe the lingering of his stare on your form before turning to your friend means something.

“Of course.” The teasing roll of your eyes matches with the appearance of Giselle in the kitchen. “And I’m ready to beat whoever stands in my way.”

Noise erupts as Giselle begins drawing the names that’ll play against one another, and you and Vernon end up on opposite sides of the dashboard. 

“Sounds good.” The defying stares you share hold something behind them only you two, and Chan, know about. “Let’s meet in the final.”

Even Giselle, the birthday girl who planned the whole game, was impressed by the interest everyone showed in playing. After a while, even the people who refused at first started joining to watch the matches, whispering the correct answers to their friends and laughing at anyone who doesn’t know basic facts.

“What is the real identity of the Marvel character known as Deadpool?” Giselle reads the question under the last blue sticker.

“Shit, I don’t know! I don’t watch marvel movies!” The long-haired girl shouts, defeated as all of her friends boo her, losing at the last question.

“You can take it!” Giselle points to Vernon, who she was up against.

“It’s Wade Wilson.” Vernon answers with a smirk and nods while everyone claps at him, even the girl’s friends.

“That’s cheating! He didn’t say ‘what is’!” You’re pretty sure she’s Giselle’s girlfriend, judging by the way she grabs her hand and attacks her with puppy eyes.

“You didn’t say that for any of your questions, dummy.” Giselle kisses her on the cheek as she pouts. “Okay! Let’s see who’s the finalist against…”

“Vernon.” He chuckles, reminding her of his name.

“Vernon! Who’s going up against Vernon!” She reads her list, adding the points you hope she annotated correctly.

She looks around, drunk enough to have forgotten your face already. “Y/N?"

“Woohoo!” Chan shouts behind you, also too drunk. “Go crush him!”

Vernon throws Chan a look and he just shrugs, finishing the drink in his hand.

While Giselle tries to set up the last board on the counter, in between all the people doing tequila shots and others annoying her on purpose, Vernon rests his hips beside yours on the island, too close for it to be a coincidence.

“What do I get when I win?” He whispers in your ear, his hot breath tingling down your neck.

“You mean when I win? And she said there would be a prize.” It’s been at least an hour since your last drink, but turning your face and seeing his so close almost makes you pass out.

“If I win, you’ll spend the night at my place.” The corner of his mouth lifting just slightly has something of a mesmerizing effect, and you can’t take your eyes off his lips.

“That’s no punishment for the loser.” You only reply, trying to keep going with his game.

“I didn’t say it had to be a punishment for you, only what I want.” There’s no arguing that logic, and luckily, Giselle calls your names before you have to figure out what to answer.

“Fair game?” You stretch your hand forward, and he shakes it slowly, electricity flowing through your veins as your cold skin melts with his.

“You haven't said what you want if you win.” Giselle's voice trying to get your attention is barely a murmur in the background.

“I'll think about it.” Now it's your time to smirk, registering Giselle deciding to choose the questions herself and asking Vernon the first one. “You should focus on answering correctly.”

“Game on, princess.” When he turns to answer, so fast he had clearly heard the question before it was repeated, you can’t help but keep your eyes on the side of his face.

“What song has spent the most weeks at number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100?”

“Old Town Road!” You hear his answer before you’re even done registering the question yourself.

It's ruthless. You both fly through the questions as if your lives depended on it. Every correct question you answer, you cheer as if you just won a million dollars, and everyone celebrates with you.

“Which country won the 2022 FIFA World Cup?”

“Argentina?” Scratching the back of your brain trying to find any clues, you’re pretty sure you remember seeing too many tiktok edits of Messi that year.

“You have to be certain!” Giselle helps you, not wanting a man to win.

“Yes! Yes, Argentina.”

The game’s head to head, neither of you answering anything wrong, until…

“What is the highest-grossing film of all time?”

“Is it Endgame?” Vernon thinks out loud after a few seconds.

“Wrong!” Giselle doesn’t give him a second chance, and you just scream.

“It’s Avatar!” With your hands in the air, you jump excitedly with Chan as he mocks Vernon. “How does a self-proclaimed cinephile not know this?”

He looks too relaxed to be losing, hands in his pockets as he just watches you celebrating the steal.

Between the two of you, you’re definitely the more competitive one, but it’s a little too suspicious for him to not even argue with your taunting. He’s getting his points back, and you have to get your head on the game again.

“What is Eminem’s real name?”

The question takes you by surprise, and not even your extensive tiktok knowledge is helping you with this one. Your eyes drift to Chan, but he seems just as confused as you.

“Is that not his last name?” You ask, knowing you just lost that question. Giselle says nothing and just stares at Vernon.

“Marshall Mathers.” The male audience cheers for him, seemingly a boy versus girls game now.

A hand pats your shoulder, and Chan spawns to your right, sighing as if you already lost. “It was a good game.”

“There’s one more question left, asshole.”

“Yeah and it’s his.” He says, like it’s obvious. “There’s no way he won’t know it.” 

Giselle doesn’t help the situation as she reads the last question and exclaims, “fuck! I left the easiest for the end!”

A choir of drunk shouts telling her to change it and others telling her to just read it out loud fill the room. From the corner of your eye, you see Vernon raising an eyebrow at Chan, feeling like he’s already won.

“Which Jonas brother has Taylor Swift dated?” All the boys around you cheer, knowing the answer and trusting Vernon knows it too. The girls ‘boo’ him as he’s thinking. 

“Nick?” Vernon answers doubtfully, scratching his neck and furrowing his eyebrows.

“It was Joe!” You don’t even let Giselle speak, rejoicing in your win and jumping excitedly once again.

Some people clap, some people go back to wherever they were in the house before they got called in to watch the game. Behind you, Vernon claps slowly, watching Giselle trying to get your attention to give you the winner’s prize.

A white thong as wide as a thread. So small, you almost don't notice Justin Bieber's face in the center. The cackle that escapes out of you jolts your head down, your stomach contracting as tears begin forming at the corners of your eyes.

“I'll make good use of it.” You tell Giselle, who finds it even funnier than you, between laughs.

Now that the game, your main reason to stay at the party, is done, you should be getting ready to run off the house and get inside your bed as soon as possible. But a pair of eyes staring up and down your body keep you from finding Chan and force him to drive you home. It’s that kind of look that your legs can barely handle before turning into jelly. A kind of look that leaves only one thought on your mind.

The kitchen clears out intimidatingly quick, the empty bottles and cups on the counter being the only company to the silence between Vernon and you. The white fabric in your hand serves as a temporary stress ball, taking your mind off the hot body hovering too close.

“What goes on the winner’s mind?” He turns to the side, hip resting on the edge of the island.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know that last question.” A chuckle to hide the nervousness doesn’t really work with him.

A man of few words, but as observant as they can be, he realized your attraction to him before you could even think of the possibility that your anxiousness to sit beside him during class was because of something else than having a new friend. He reads your body language too well for your own good.

“Maybe, I just wanted to let you win.” He lies, the smile slowly forming at the sight of your frown telling you that much.

“If that’s what’ll help you sleep at night.” You feel his eyes on you even as you pretend to analyze the backsplash on the wall.

“Did you come here with Chan?” He doesn’t move from his spot, but you suddenly feel warmer, the kitchen too small and the air too thick.

“Maybe… Why?” The answer is obvious.

The answer materializes in the way he tilts his chin down so his eyes can rest on your parted lips, in the corner of his mouth lifting at your hitching breath, and in his hand scattering in his pocket to find his car keys.

“Just thinking he’s going to miss you when you leave with me.”

It’s always a different kind of anticipation when he talks about having you out loud. The little secret between the two of you being out in the open, even if it was only for you to hear, paints the whole of your cheeks a faint pink.

“This party sucks anyway.” You’ve started walking away from him, looking back to find him on the same spot behind you with a knowing smile. “Are you coming?”

“I’ll see you outside.” His free hand finds its way to the side of your waist, the flimsy fabric of your dress doing nothing to hide the heat emanating from you. “Let him know so he doesn’t worry.”

Vernon walks past your frozen body standing by the edge of the door, crossing the nearly empty living room, passing where Chan’s sitting with a couple of men you know you should know the names of, saying goodbye to him too.

“Should I ask?” Chan questions when he lays his eyes on you, with your jacket on and suspiciously ready to leave after Vernon.

“We're just getting more to drink! People drank everything already.” The dumb excuse gets past Chan’s friends, but he naturally doesn’t buy it.

“You shouldn’t drink and drive!” Chan shouts as you head to the entrance, mocking the blatant lie you told.

“We'll get some coffee then.” With your hands on the doorframe and half your body already out the house, you wink his way and he just rolls his eyes.

The parking lot beside Giselle’s house is full of her guests’ cars, but not a soul’s visible at this hour in the night. The music can still be heard even as you get further away from the source, searching for the familiar car and the all too familiar friend of yours.

“Lost?” Vernon’s voice reaches you from the side, and you turn to find him resting against his car, waiting for you like a gentleman.

“You should get a red car. That way, I can recognize it from further away.” The slow steps you take towards him cause no visible reaction. But when you’re within arms reach, he’s trapping you against the backseat door in no time.

“Duly noted.” Vernon’s hands wander inside your jacket, attempting to slip it off you without breaking eye contact.

“You really can’t resist me.” You wrap your arms around his neck, and he does his best to throw your jacket through the driver’s window and inside the car.

“I don’t try to.” His dark eyes hypnotize you into being unable to utter a witty reply, solely focused on his face so close to yours you could count his eyelashes.

But his lips go nowhere near yours, heading down your neck in a teasing trail of kisses leaving you gasping for air. You moan as his arms press your body further against his, as if leaving marks on your sensitive skin wasn't enough for him.

“You haven't told me what you want as your prize.”

His voice reverberates down your spine, followed by a groan as your fingers thread with the hair at the back of his head. You're a mess of tangled limbs against the cold metal of his car, his hands roaming your body in their quest to make you crave him even more.

“For you to stop teasing me.” At that, he halts his assault on your neck, raising his head to pierce through you with his fiery gaze.

“Oh,” he tilts his head to the side, one eyebrow raised as he taunts you, “but you like that, don't you?” One hand slips between your chests, finding its way inside your dress to let his fingers feel the wet patch on your panties. “You like how it feels when I tease you?”

The back of your head hits the car window just behind you at his touch, and his fingers slide over your covered core, making you gasp over essentially nothing.

His body’s still so close you barely have to move to finally connect his tempting lips with your needy ones. Your lips melt instantly with his, moving over yours the way he knows will have you sighing in his mouth. One swipe of his tongue on your lower lip and you're done for.

The sheer lack of shame he has as he presses his body harder against yours, moaning against your lips when you tug at his hair, only burns the fire inside you hotter. It's as if he wanted for every stranger that dared to wander around to know you're his.

Vernon’s hand between your legs plays with you like his favorite toy, knowing exactly where to press, graze, and circle, but stopping the second you grind on his digits, asking for more. He makes it easy to want him, to render to his touch as the world around you dissolves into a meaningless void.

How could you care about anything else when his fingers sneak into your bare core, your dress hoisted up your legs far more than what’s considered publicly decent, smearing your arousal in circles as his mouth does a lousy job at drowning your sounds.

But Vernon’s no innocent man. He pushes you to the edge while the grind of your hips against his hand breaks down his calmness. His legs slot between yours in a desperate attempt to hold you closer, for you to feel his growing hard on the crevice of your inner thigh. He’s as hungry for your touch as you are for his.

His coated fingers tease your opening, ready for him since you heard his name, and invite you to do the same.

Somehow, between the pressing of your chests against one another, the frenzy kiss sucking all the air from your lungs, and your leg wrapped around Vernon’s hips to try and impossibly push him closer to you, your hand sneaks under the layers of clothes hiding him. Your fingers grazing his hot skin contract the muscles in his abdomen, preparing himself to be touched where he needs it most.

When he finally slips two fingers inside you and you wrap your hand around his length, both of your mouths stop working, parted lips soft over the other, in awe at the other’s touch. The rush of adrenaline dies down, time stopping as you each savor the other’s strokes.

It’s not long before Vernon decides he needs to be inside you or he’ll explode.

“I want you to ride me, princess,” his breathless whisper brushes against your gasping lips, “can you do that?”

Your answer comes in both of your hands rushing to unbutton his goddamn shirt and trying to zip down his jeans in one movement. Vernon just chuckles at your eagerness, dreadly removing one of his arms from your body to unlock the car and open the door you’re standing against.

The leather seat caves under your weight, Vernon sitting under you, his both hands feeling your back as you try to close the door for a silver of privacy.

He can't get enough of you, his hand slotting on the side of your jaw to guide your face back to his. You chase after his bruised lips, melting on top of him with your hands on his bare chest, soft grinds on his growing hard, making him groan against you.

With your hair a mess because of him, he brushes it back, making you halt your movements to see what he does next. You swallow hard as his hands drift down your body until they reach where you’re almost connected, where your wet panties are beginning to stain his lap. But he doesn’t stop at your core. Instead, he unbuckles his belt in record time, lowering his jeans and boxers just enough for his hard to spring out.

“You look so good on top of me.” He dares to say, and you might argue he looks even better under you.

Bloodshot lips from your teeth giving into their desires, shirt half open down to the buttons you never reached, slightly scratched abs that welcome the slap of his angry red cock. A sight you'll never get tired of seeing.

“I think I know what I want as my prize.” You declare, getting a hold of his length and lifting your hips to line him up with your entrance.

“Whatever my girl wants.” He almost stutters at your doing, his nonchalant persona faltering with your touch.

You ignore the butterflies erupting at the pit of your stomach at his words, concentrating on sliding down his hard until you're sitting on him and his tip reaches the deepest parts inside you.

“I want you to cum inside me,” you whisper into his ear, the filthy words being a secret between you two, “fill me up.”

His hands squeeze your hips, urging you to move and get what you want, helping you bounce on him as hard as you can.

“How long do you think you can last?” You can feel the car jumping at your rhythm,  and Vernon fights to not let a loud moan get out as he asks. “Because I won’t last long if you keep going like that.”

The straps of your dress slip down your shoulders, hypnotizing the man below you and driving him to try and fix them, but he quickly finds his hand going up your neckline, wrapping his fingers around your neck as you moan at the stimulation.

“Shit.” He mutters under his breath as your walls clamp impossibly harder around him, and he has to thrust his hips up to match your pace.

When he realizes the pressure of his fingers on your neck, he mumbles a quick apology, but you stop his hand on its way down.

“Do that again.” You see his lust filled eyes turn into something more, darker, as he understands what you want.

The air going into your lungs is quickly restricted, Vernon’s hand below your jaw applying the pressure that has another wave of arousal flushing out of you. The grind of your hips restarts as best as you can, as he keeps thrusting up with more force each time.

Every thrust, every touch, and every sound  from him combine to accelerate your pending orgasm. Your legs quiver with tiredness, and he has to let go of his grip on your neck to wrap his arms around your waist and finish the job.

With your chests flushed, his unrestricted moans right against your ear, and his cock hitting relentlessly that exact spot that has you screaming, you cream on Vernon’s cock as he chases his own release. 

“Fuck, princess, you’re so fucking tight.” His hips stutter as you clamp around him purposely.

“I want to feel you, Nonie,” the nickname slips out of you, and judging by the guttural groan he lets out, he likes it. “Cum inside me.”

You always loved the feeling of him twitching inside of you, dizzying and addicting, and when he paints your insides with his cum at your request, you know you'll never want it any other way again.

There's a beat of silence after you get off of him and sit by his side, the ruffling of his jeans as he zips it back up, being the only sound filling the steamy car. And you can't help but chuckle.

“Are we always that desperate?” The casual talk comes out easy in the midst of your breaths regulating.

“I think we went all out tonight.” He turns his head to your side, and your laugh turns into a soft smile, replicating his.

It’s always a mess of different feelings running around your heart as your post-sex mind finally realizes what just happened. And you always hope that what you see behind his gaze is a similar thought process.

“Do you still want to get some coffee?” He asks, smile not leaving but definitely teasing you with an eyebrow raised.

“You heard that?” The pink blush comes back to your cheeks after being caught red-handed.

“I'm not the fastest walker, I was barely a few steps away from the door.” His admission is for sure turning your whole body red in embarrassment. “But I am down for a cup of coffee if you want.”

He shows that warm smile he knows can get him anything he wants, and you nod without even thinking.

“You can drop me off at my place after.”

He doesn't take you to your apartment after. His place is closer anyway.

thank you for reading! you can check out my masterlist for more of my works and my wips list to see what’s coming next!

and don't forget to leave your thoughts ♥︎

[networklovemp3]

📲 Minghao as your boyfriend texts

ⓘ paring. minghao x f!reader. genre | tags: fake texts, reactions, established relationship, fluff. warnings. Suggestive, fluffy fluff. requested: yes/no.

ʚ A/N: This was one of my oldest requests, so sorry it took me a while to get to it, but it’s finally here! I really hope you enjoy it! 💕

navigation | main masterlist | taglist

Every ask & comment gives me life 💗 If you’re enjoying it, don’t forget to reblog—helps so much and gets the fic out there!! Sharing is caring before you scroll!

💌 Tags: @bmo-bri, @chromequette, @codeinebelle, @starlight-constellation, @ojuwme, @paradiseoflosers, @tinyelfperson, @dcrlingyou, @my-atiny-kookie-rkive, @theidontknowmehn, @haaruki, @bath1lda, @hoshstruck, @jihoonsbbygirl, @smiileflower, @tastyluvr, @christinewithluv, @jesauiin, @bookyeom, @raggedypansexual, @caratcak3, @ateez-atiny380, @meowchella, @jeonsfries, @whoisbaek15, @damnedangel98, @sumzysworld, @mingyuuulover, @andreethier, @sarabencze, @brishti007, @weepingsweep, @minhui896.

© VERNONVERSE. I do not condone reposting, plagiarizing or translating my work in any form.

[networklovemp3]

i would owe someone my life if they gave me minghao hc/scenario requests right now

[networklovemp3]

there better be a strangers to lovers 16k slow burn about that bartender!jeonghan hc cooking up somewhere in the universe or else i might just have to intervene. idk what imma do bc i can’t write but im gonna intervene 🙂‍↕️

lmaooo i'll see what i can do 🤭

[networklovemp3]

bartender!jeonghan thoughts (nsfw 18+)

bartender jeonghan who is going to give you issues the way you go to the bar so often to see him

bartender jeonghan who teases you about the drinks you order

bartender jeonghan who still gladly serves you drinks as fast as possible

bartender jeonghan who let's you request crazy concoctions when he's not busy

bartender jeonghan who doesn't let any of the other bartenders make you a drink

bartender jeonghan who always makes sure you're safe in a cab or a friends car when you leave

bartender jeonghan who insists flirting is part of the job, but he only does it with you

bartender jeonghan who teaches you how to tie a cherry stem using your tongue one slow night

bartender jeonghan who plays off his possesiveness of you, saying he's just not letting other patrons harass you

bartender jeonghan who looks at you the same when you wear a particularly revealing outfit, little do you know he takes an extra long break after you leave

bartender jeonghan who so badly wants to take you home, but doesn't want to overstep

bartender jeonghan who is actually so sweet, until you finally do invite him into your bed

bartender jeonghan who wants to tease you first, just kissing you and placing you on his thigh

bartender jeonghan who lets you squirm and and rub against him and only looks at you with an amused smile

bartender jeonghan who shows you what his mouth can do besides tying cherry stems and making quick-witted remarks

bartender jeonghan who fucks into you like it's his only passion in life

bartender jeonghan who takes you apart for hours and hours and then wakes up to do the same thing in the morning

bartender jeonghan who loves to see you so overstimulated that you start crying

bartender jeonghan who becomes insatiable about you, so obsessed with the way you taste and feel

bartender jeonghan who lets you mark him all over in return

bartender jeonghan who starts to only see you at the bar when it's the end of the night and you're coming to pick him up

[networklovemp3]

bartender!jeonghan thoughts (nsfw 18+)

bartender jeonghan who is going to give you issues the way you go to the bar so often to see him

bartender jeonghan who teases you about the drinks you order

bartender jeonghan who still gladly serves you drinks as fast as possible

bartender jeonghan who let's you request crazy concoctions when he's not busy

bartender jeonghan who doesn't let any of the other bartenders make you a drink

bartender jeonghan who always makes sure you're safe in a cab or a friends car when you leave

bartender jeonghan who insists flirting is part of the job, but he only does it with you

bartender jeonghan who teaches you how to tie a cherry stem using your tongue one slow night

bartender jeonghan who plays off his possesiveness of you, saying he's just not letting other patrons harass you

bartender jeonghan who looks at you the same when you wear a particularly revealing outfit, little do you know he takes an extra long break after you leave

bartender jeonghan who so badly wants to take you home, but doesn't want to overstep

bartender jeonghan who is actually so sweet, until you finally do invite him into your bed

bartender jeonghan who wants to tease you first, just kissing you and placing you on his thigh

bartender jeonghan who lets you squirm and rub against him and only looks at you with an amused smile

bartender jeonghan who shows you what his mouth can do besides tying cherry stems and making quick-witted remarks

bartender jeonghan who fucks into you like it's his only passion in life

bartender jeonghan who takes you apart for hours and hours and then wakes up to do the same thing in the morning

bartender jeonghan who loves to see you so overstimulated that you start crying

bartender jeonghan who becomes insatiable about you, so obsessed with the way you taste and feel

bartender jeonghan who lets you mark him all over in return

bartender jeonghan who starts to only see you at the bar when it's the end of the night and you're coming to pick him up