SUMMARY: it's simple, you and jeonghan can't each other. but then you both get stuck working on a project together. so when you get fed up with his antics, you do something you don't expect to—you kiss him. but what happens after that?
PAIRING: coworker!jeonghan x coworker!reader
THEMES: coworker au, rivals to lovers?
WARNINGS: tension, reader in denial, flirting, kissing, making out, light angst, fluff, reader being an idiot fr sorry guys, lots of teasing.
WORDCOUNT: 6.7k
A/N: happy jeonghan day! thought i'd release this from the drafts dungeon for his bday. not sure if i even entirely like this fic it's so stupid but i hope it's okay <3 reblogs and feedback appreciated :)
you were going to lose it. you had been sitting in the same meeting room with jeonghan for the past three hours trying to finish work on a project that you'd both been assigned to work on together. this project was a huge deal—it would be critical for both of your careers, yet you and jeonghan were somehow the most incompatible team imaginable on the face of the planet. you were meticulous and a perfectionist, while jeonghan was laid back and calm, perhaps a little too calm for your liking.
you can feel your blood pressure rise as your finger taps furiously on the keyboard of your laptop, your screen full of half finished slides and bullet points. meanwhile across you, yoon jeonghan sits sprawled out in his chair with his phone in his hand, probably texting someone, or worse, laughing at a stupid tiktok and you can feel your blood boil at this point as you bore your eyes into him.
"i swear," you finally snap, looking at him. "if you don't get your ass up and start working, i will lose it", you say as you glare at him, hoping the intensity of your stare would melt the phone in his hand.
jeonghan doesn't even look up from his phone, clearly unbothered by you. "relax yn, we have plenty of time", he says, which only makes you seethe even more.
you stare at him for a second longer and scoff. "we don’t have time genius. you’re acting like this is some kind of joke, but this project is important, it's a huge fucking deal and you can’t just—", you start but jeonghan interrupts, not letting you finish.
"oh, here we go again", jeonghan says with a sigh. "yn the perfectionist, yn the everything must be perfect otherwise the world is going to stop spinning and we're all going to die" he says dramatically as you glare at him.
"okay, well did you cross check the information with the clients?", you ask and he nods.
"yes, and they said it's fine. did i talk with the marketing team? yes. did i go over the entire strategy with the client and marketing team? yes. did i input the feedback given? yes. i've done all the work on the checklist yn, so calm your ass down", he says as he lists out everything he's done and you can't even complain because he's actually done it all.
you clench your jaw instead, pissed off for some reason. "whatever, just start working, we still have a ton of stuff to do", you mutter out.
"yn please", he starts. "calm down, seriously. you're making this a way bigger deal than it is. if you stop stressing for maybe a second, you'll see that you're overthinking things", he says cooly, his tone suddenly pissing you off even more.
“overthinking?” you repeat, trying to keep the edge out of your voice, but failing. “you’re sitting there and watching tiktoks and you’re telling me that i’m overthinking? you’re just being useless right now", you snap.
"we're on track with everything and i'm not being useless, i'm just relaxing, you should try it sometime", jeonghan says with that stupid smug smirk playing on his lips and that seems to get on your nerves even more.
"you know what? fine. you want to ‘relax’? you go ahead and be my guest. i guess i'll just handle all the heavy lifting while you do whatever the hell you want over there", you say, your words coming out harsher than intended due to the anger and stress that was bubbling up inside you.
jeonghan only looks at you and laughs, fucking laughs. "okay, okay, calm down," he says, sounding a little more serious this time. "you’re blowing this way out of proportion. we’re ahead of schedule and we have plenty of time so it’s all going to be fine", he assures but it does nothing to soothe you. this is why you didn't like working with jeonghan. you both didn't get along and the only thing he seemed to be doing a good job at was getting on your nerves all the time.
"you don't get it do you? this isn't just about being ahead of the schedule. this project is a huge deal and we can't afford to mess this up and you're sitting there, relaxing?", you say, like a cord has finally snapped inside of you as you stare at jeonghan.
your frustration boils over and you quickly stand up. "i am so done with this", you spit out and you walk over to the window of the meeting room and you start pacing. "i swear jeonghan, you're impossible, god why do we have to even do this together", you complain, walking back to your laptop on the other side.
jeonghan's stands up, stuffing his hands in his pockets casually as he looks at you before talking. his voice is low as he slowly walks around the desk. "we have to work together yn, because our boss thinks we make a great team", he tells with a hint of a smirk. his words are light, almost teasing, but that smirk—that infuriating smirk gets on your nerves, always.
"and maybe you really need to learn to calm down because we can actually make a great team", he says, stalking forward so that he is now standing infront of you now as he gives you a friendly smile, but you can see the mischief behind his eyes, like he was challenging you almost.
"if by 'great' you mean two people who can barely get along, then sure, we make a great team", you tell, stepping closer, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
“you’re always so quick to jump to conclusions yn,” he says as he steps closer. “if you stopped stressing over everything, then maybe we could actually make this work, we won't be fighitng like we are now", he tells cooly.
you don’t want to hear this. you don’t need to hear this from him right now.
"maybe you need to shut up for once," you tell harshly. you were done arguing, going back and forth with him like this led nowhere. you needed to stop otherwise you were really going to lose your mind.
jeonghan however remains unfazed. he takes a step forward, closing the gap until you both are mere inches apart. his posture is still relaxed and his hands are still stuffed casually in his pockets, and his posture is confident as he tilts his head to one side slightly, studying you with an unnervingly calm expression.
"maybe you need to learn to accept the truth", he says, his voice steady. he wasn't backing down was he? your chest tightens even more and you can feel yourself losing control.
“shut up” you fume out, your fists clenched at your sides. "make me", he says, his smirk widening like he is challenging you as he stares you down.
and maybe it was the way he was so close to you and maybe it was the way his eyes were staring into yours with that smug look, but you can't take it anymore. jeonghan opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get any words out, you grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward with force and before you can stop yourself, you crash your lips onto his, kissing him.
jeonghan freezes, caught off guard as his eyes widen in shock. it's a quick, sharp kiss, nothing tender or soft but it's just enough to shut him up for a moment. then jeonghan relaxes and he kisses you back, moving his lips against yours. it's a brief kiss that sends sparks all over you, but before it can go on any further, you pull away. your hand still grips onto the collar of his shirt as your chest is heavy and you look up at him.
jeonghan stands there like he's trying to process what just happened. his expression shifts slightly, from shock to something else, to something unreadable, but he doesn't say anything. you can feel the tension hanging in the air between you both and it's almost suffocating, but neither of you move or speak.
you finally get to your senses and you blink, trying to figure out what to say as the weight of your action settles into you. "i...i just needed you to shut up", you mutter out, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks as your heart races in your chest. "i didn’t mean… i mean, i just—" you stammer out, but jeonghan's smiles down at you softly, like he's completely unphased and unaffected.
jeonghan opens his mouth to say something but he doesn't get any words out because you're already letting go of shirt, pushing him back with a small force and turning on your heels as you walk out of the room. meanwhile jeonghan stands there, watching you go, suprised and a little confused.
as you walk out and head to the breakroom, your heart is pounding and your head is spinning. what the fuck was wrong with you. you had just kissed jeonghan - the one person you absolutely hated. it was a mistake, right? how were you supposed to face him now?
later that night as jeonghan lies in bed, he wonders what the hell that kiss was supposed to mean. you kissed him. he goras as he rolls in his bed, burying his face into the pillow. now he was the one overthinking everything and he just couldn't stop replaying the moment in his head over and over again. what the hell was that supposed to mean?
the next day when jeonghan walks into the office, he scans the room looking for you. he spots you at your desk typing away on your keyboard and focused on your work, like nothing had ever happened between you both. he slowly makes his way over to your desk but you're almost too focused to notice him.
"goodmorning", he says right by your ear as he bends down a little making you jump, startling you and you have that familiar scowl on your face again.
"what the hell jeonghan", you snap as you turn around in your chair.
you both work together like normal that day, acting like nothing ever happened between you both, like the kiss didn't exist. but inside, it was slowly eating you alive. were distracted and jeonghan could tell. you were a little out of sorts that entire week and you kept forgetting small things, which was unlike you. you resorted to keeping yourself busy with work, a little too busy, though jeonghan didn't say anything and neither did you. there was an underlying current of tension in the air and you could feel it, that subtle shift that hadn't been there before between the both of you.
it's friday now and jeonghan sits across the meeting room from you, looking at his laptop but every so often he sneaks a glance at you. you sit on the other side of the desk trying to focus on your work, but it felt impossible to ignore that elephant in the room.
jeonghan clears his throat, finally breaking the silence. "hey did you see the email about the meeting later?", he says, his voice causal.
"yeah, i saw it", you reply, not looking up from your laptop screen. jeonghan continues to observe you and you can feel his gaze on you. why the hell was this so awkward and why was your heart racing?
"you seem different today, this entire week actually", he says carefully, like he was testing the waters. you finally look at him and meet his gaze, suddenly feeling exposed. "what do you mean?", you shoot back, your tone sharp.
he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at you and shrugs lightly. "nothing, just you seem on the edge, but calmer for some reason. you're not snapping at me and calling me lazy every minute of the day, so i guess you're distracted maybe?", he suggests, his tone implicating something else.
"i've just been busy, nothing special", you say, trying to keep a neutral tone, but your heart is still pounding and suddenly you feel nervous under his gaze.
jeonghan raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "right, busy", he says, like he wasn't convinced by your answer but he doesn't ask you anything more. so you weren't even going to bring up the kiss he thinks.
another week passes by you can't stop thinking about the kiss and you can't stop thinking about jeonghan. you told yourself that it was a mistake, that you'd only done it to shut him up and put an end to the argument—that it meant nothing. but deep down you couldn't help but feel it was starting to mean something more. but today you can't take it anymore. you had to know, you had to check it again see for yourself. you had to test if your feelings were real and prove to yourself it wasn't what you thought it was - that you were starting to fall for jeonghan.
the day is over but you're working late again, with jeonghan of course, and everyone else is gone, leaving just the two of you in the meeting room. jeonghan is standing by the corner with his phone in his hand. suddenly, storm into the meeting room with a stride and a determined gaze and his eyes catch yours before he slips his phone in his pocket.
"now what? you look like you're to kill me", he says.
"shut up, i'm not going to kill you", you snap back, the nerves getting to you. "i just need to test something", you say and he raises an brow at your words, curious.
"test something?", he asks, looking at you.
and before he can say anything more, you stalk forward and your hands land on his chest as you push him back against the wall. the sudden action takes him by surprise. "woah, what are you doing", he asks, his eyes widening slightly, but it would be a lie to say that he wasn't enjoying whatever was happening right now.
you don't say anything, and you don't give yourself time to stop or think or overthink before you lean in and kiss him, again. jeonghan kisses you back almost immediately, moving his lips against yours. his hands slide up to your waist, holding you and this time the kiss is slower, gentler and his lips feel warm against yours as you kiss him back.
this doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a test and im just testing how i feel you tell yourself.
his left hand reaches up and gently cups your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, making your head spin. you can't bring yourself to pull away no matter how much you want to, your body responding before your brain can process anything. you finally pull back to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling. you only look up at him and glance at his lips again. you lean in and kiss him again and he kisses you back, his grip on your waist tightening as he kisses you, making your head spin and warmth blooms in your chest. you can't seem to stop kissing him because the feeling of his lips on yours feels too good. your hands wrap around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him. there's an undeniable spark between the both of you—the teasing, the tension—all of it evaporates, leaving just the two of you caught up in something unspoken, something you both know is more than just a kiss.
jeonghan pulls away this time, his breath uneven and your hands drop down and you step back, your cheeks still flushed and your mind still reeling from the kiss.
you swallow hard and you can feel the heat sticking to your skin and you can still taste him on your lips and panic starts to set in. no, this wasn't supposed to happen. this kiss was just to test your feelings, you're not supposed to be catching feelings for him.
"what the hell was that", he asks, his breath heavy as he stares at you, his hair a slight mess now with the way you ran your fingers through them, his lips a little pink from kissing you.
you take a shaky breath before you speak. "it was just a test", you say. "a test?", he asks like he couldn't believe what you saying.
"i just needed to figure out my feelings, it was a mistake", you blurt out the words coming out before you can think and you catch the flash of hurt in his eyes.
"a mistake? so you just kissed me to check your feelings?", he asks, confused.
"i don't know what i'm feeling okay!", you say in a hurry, panicking slightly. "i just needed to figure it out, because this thing between us, it's not normal and it's-", you stop because you can't bring yourself to say it.
he narrows his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "and you thought making out with me would help you figure that out?", he asks, getting a little frustrated now.
he was right, why did you think kissing him would suddenly clear up all the confusion? if anything, it only made you more confused.
"so did you get an answer at least?", he asks, his eyes searching yours but you needed to push him away and tell him that this didn’t mean anything.
“i still hate you", you say but his face doesn't change. "you're arrogant and frustrating and just make everything so complicated", you say instead, like you were trying to convince yourself rather than him. you watch as jeonghan's lips press into a thin line.
jeonghan watches as you speak, your words hitting him one after another, each one sharp, but he doesn't stop you.
'i still hate you'. he'd expected that. he'd heard you say it countless times before, so it wasn't anything new. but right now, it doesn't land quite the way it usually lands. today those words seem to sting a bit—those words feel heavier now. maybe because he'd let his guard down for a brief moment when you kissed him and it had felt real—like you wanted it too, but then you take it back and say it meant nothing, putting up a wall and he's left wondering what the hell is going on all over again.
"this doesn't mean anything so don't get your hopes up", you say finally before you step away and walk out of the room, leaving jeonghan standing there without any clue on what to do.
it’s been a week since you walked out of that room, leaving him standing there, your words echoing in his mind. he’s tried to ignore it and tried to shake it off like it’s nothing like you had said, but every time his mind drifts to you, he can’t help but replay that moment over and over again.
jeonghan’s leaning against the doorframe of the meeting room, a cup of coffee in his hand. the moment you step into the hallway, his eyes flicker up to meet yours and you freeze for a second, the sudden intensity of his gaze pulling you in before you force yourself to look away.
after that second kiss, all you want to do is avoid jeonghan, but you obviously can't since you're stuck working together. so you pretend like that kiss never happened either, and that it didn't affect you. you tell yourself that you don’t care and you continue to act like nothing happened, like last week was just some weird, passing thing. but jeonghan doesn’t make it easy. you walk into the meeting room and you take a seat, pulling out your laptop.
“atleast you aren't avoiding me,” he says casually, his voice low but sharp. he takes a slow sip from his cup, his eyes never leaving you.
"why would i avoid you?", you ask, not meeting his gaze, but you can feel his gaze on you and you're hoping he doesn't bring it up.
"because this project matters on how good our communication and teamwork is", he says instead, like he knew if he brought that up, you might shut him out more. "whatever", you mumble.
that day, you're distracted, too distracted. you can't focus no matter how hard you try to concentrate on the tasks at hand and your mind keeps drifting to jeonghan, who was sitting right next to you. you find yourself sneaking glances at him. the way his dark hair fell just right, framing his face in a way that made your heart race. your eyes trail down to the sight of his lips and you feel your cheeks flush at the brief thought before you tear your gaze away. what the hell was wrong with you?
"you know, you might actually get some work done if you stop oogling me", he tells finally as he looks at you with a that hint of that stupid smirk on his face.
"w-what?", you mumble out, trying to act unbothered.
jeonghan tilts his head slightly as he looks at you. "i mean, it's pretty obvious, sweetheart, i can feel you staring. it's cute though, but we have things to do", he says, the smirk never leaving his lips.
"whatever", you scoff lightly, before looking back down at the screen of your laptop.
"i'm just saying," he continues, his voice low and teasing. "if you’re going to keep staring at me with heart eyes, at least make it less obvious", he says and you scoff even more.
"i am not looking at you with heart eyes, what is wrong with you", you say and he only laughs. you clench your jaw, trying not to give in and give him the satisfaction of seeing how effected you really are and he leans forward ever so slightly.
"you know, i could just go ahead and kiss you to make this all more interesting", he says, his voice teasing and your eyes widen at his words.
"what?", you ask as his smirk widens.
"you can't seem to focus and i know you've staring at me for the past five minutes now, so maybe i can help you clear your head?", he suggests, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"shut up", you tell, getting frustrated and flustered, your eyes darting between your laptop and him.
"well, you're the one who kissed me twice and i'm just-", he's cut off by you slapping your hand over his mouth as you lean forward.
"shut the fuck up", you say, glaring at him and looking around, even though it was just you both in the meeting room.
"you know, if i recall correctly that's not how you shut me up before", he teases more, making you glare at him.
"that didn't mean anything", you grit out, but you weren't fooling jeonghan and you can't take it anymore so you stand up, mumbling something about getting a coffee and walking out of the room with your cheeks hot and head a mess.
the next day, you’re both stuck in a long meeting with a few more people. everyone else is absorbed in the discussion, but you and jeonghan keep exchanging silent glances. you shift in your chair, trying to stay focused on the presentation, but your mind keeps wandering back to jeonghan. every time you look at him, it’s like he’s challenging you to acknowledge the unspoken chemistry between you both. when you catch his eye again he gives you a small wink. it's too subtle for anyone else to notice but it sends a flutter through your heart. you narrow your eyes at him, trying to act serious but that playful glint shines in his eyes and suddenly you feel his foot nudge against yours under the table. you look up at him, but he’s pretending to be completely focused and didn't just nudge your foot. he tilts his head as he looks at you, like he's daring you to do something about it,
it’s late afternoon now, and the office is quieter than usual. you’re hunched over at your desk, typing away at a report that’s due by the end of the day and making some changes that were asked. jeonghan is sitting at his desk across from you, pretending to work, but you know he’s been stealing glances at you every few seconds.
finally, you feel his presence as he walks over to your desk with his arms crossed against his chest.
“taking forever on that report?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant, but you can hear the teasing note in his voice.
you sigh, not bothering to look up from your screen. “you really can’t leave me alone, can you?”, you ask.
he only shrugs, his eyes twinkling. “it’s just so much fun to bother you.”
you roll your eyes at his words. "fuck off jeonghan", you tell, annoyed and he chuckles. "you know, it’s a crime to be so serious all the time. you need to smile more.”
“i smile plenty,” you say but there's no conviction in your voice.
as the workday drags on you're tired and by the time the day is over, all you can think about is going home and sinking into the comfort of your bed. you gather your things and pack up. you walk towards the elevator and you find jeonghan already standing in front of the elevator. you ignore him and stand beside him as you both wait for the elevator door to open. the elevator door slides open and you walk in, jeonghan following behind you. you press the button and lean back but after a few moments the elevator suddenly lurches, coming to an abrupt halt.
you frown, reaching out and pressing the button again, hoping it will do something but nothing happens. "what the hell?", you mutter, pressing the button repeatedly while jeonghan looks over, least bothered about what is happening right now. "great timing huh", he says, his arms crossed against his chest.
"you know," he said, his voice smooth, taunting. "it’s kind of funny that we're stuck here together, alone", he says, emphasizing those words.
"please, like i'd want to spend another second with you", you say, rolling your eyes. "stupid elevator", you mutter under your breath, pressing the button again to no avail.
“you’re avoiding something yn, we both know it", he says, looking at you. "and the universe is giving us a chance to talk about it", he adds as he looks at you.
“i’m not avoiding anything, i don't know what you're talking about", you say instead, still not willing to admit whatever you were feeling.
"i think it's time you stop lying to yourself yn", he says. "i haven't been lying", you tell, hating the way he could read you so easily. he raises a brow at your answer before taking a slow deliberate step towards you. you instinctively take a step back, but there's nowhere to go and your back hits the elevator wall. he takes another step forward, slowly closing the gap between you both, cornering you against the wall. his hand moves to rest beside your head and your breath hitches slightly at his actions and at how close he is.
"you like me don't you?", he asks, looking at you, holding your gaze. you scoff. "i don't like you at all, you're just...annoying", you say, nervous.
"oh, you don't? that's funny, because every time you deny it, i can see it in your eyes. you're in love with me yn", he says and you can feel your pulse quicken at his words.
you rolls your eyes, trying to act like it didn't affect you. "in love with you? you're delusional", you say instead.
"come on yn", he says with that smirk. "you keep kissing me and then you keep denying it like you're not completely into me. you don't kiss someone like that twice without it meaning something", he says, holding your gaze.
you didn't know what to say to that. you want to argue back and push him away, but the tension in the air is too much, and you can't seem to get any words out because he was right.
he leans in slightly, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "you're just too stubborn to admit that you like me", he whispers and you gulp under the intensitiy of his gaze and the fact that he he's so, so close.
"i'm not stubborn", you snap. "i just don't like you like that", you mubmle out, trying not to get affected his words, by him, but jeonghan’s gaze darkens and flickers down to your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes. "really? then why did you kiss me like that? twice", he asks and you gulp.
you bite your lip, your mind scrambling to come up with a response. "i-i don't know", you mumble out, your mind faltering under his gaze and you try to look away—because it's hard to think when he's so close.
jeonghan reaches out and gently tilts your chin up, making you look at him. he leans in a bit more, his lips brushing against yours lightly. it's a fleeting touch, but it's enough to make sparks fly and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.
"i think you need to shut up and just admit that you like me", he mumbles, his voice low. with that, he finally closes the gap between you both, pressing his lips to yours. he pulls back for a second but you chase after his lips, kissing him back. the warmth and softness of his lips makes you melt in his embrace, his hands coming to wrap around your waist as he holds you close. the kiss deepens, slow at first, but slowly picking up intensity. your hands rest on his chest as you kiss him back, making your head spin and soon your hands grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as his hands gripp your waist tighter as he moves his lips against yours, making you dizzy in the best way possible.
all the tension and all the frustration of avoiding him seems to be forgotten in this moment and the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his lips on yours. you finally pull back to catch your breath, your chest softly rising and falling. jeonghan’s smirk is still there, but it’s different now. it’s not the same cocky grin—it’s something more knowing, more satisfied, like he’s finally gotten what he wanted. he stands just inches from you and he knows exactly what just happened. that grin on his face says he’s enjoying it far more than he should be. you push him away lightly, your palms pressing against his chest in a weak attempt to create some space, but he only chuckles lightly.
“really? you’re shy now?", jeonghan’s voice is low and teasing, laced with a hint of amusement. “after that kiss you’re going to act all innocent on me?”
"shut up," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.
"if you want me to shut up, you know what to do", he says with a wink that makes your cheeks burn.
“stop it", you tell, looking up at him. “it’s kinda adorable, the way you act like you’re not enjoying this", he says, his warm breathe against you ear as he speaks.
"i'm not act—", you start but he leans in again, rendering you speechless. “you didn’t enjoy it?” he asks, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “then why is your heart beating so fast?", he asks.
“you’re ridiculous,” you say, trying to shove him away but he doesn't budge. he leans down a little. “if i’m being ridiculous then why do you keep looking at me like you want to kiss me again?”
your heart skips a beat at his words and you fight the urge to evaporate into thin air right then and there. “i’m not looking at you like that,” you counter but jeonghan only chuckles, the sound warm and full of affection. "oh, but i think you are", he says and before you can even say anything more, his lips are on yours, kissing you again. this time, his kiss is slower, more deliberate and it sweeps you off your feet in the best way possible.
you pull away slightly as you peer up at jeonghan. "fine, maybe i do like you", you finally say and he smirks, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. "see, that wasn't so hard, was it?", he says, grinning.
the next morning, you walk into the office with your usual determination, hoping to get through the day without thinking much about what happened in the elevator the day before—the kiss and your confession. it all feels like a blur, but you know you can't deny it anymore.
as you sit down at your desk, you try to focus on your work. you hear the familiar sound of footsteps approaching and hope it isn't jeonghan, but of course it is. jeonghan looks effortlessly attractive and handsome as always as he makes his way to your desk and you can already see the mischievous grin blooming on his face.
"morning", he says, his voice smooth.
"good morning", you say, trying to act normal, though the warmth in your cheeks seems to betray you. you quickly turn your attention back on your laptop screen, but jeonghan's smile only widens softly as he looks at you, his eyes never leaving yours.
"so", he causally says. "about yesterday", he says and you freeze, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.
"what about it?", you ask, trying to act nonchalant.
"oh, nothing much, i was just wondering if you're going to pretend like it didn't happen again", he asks, his fingers tapping on your desk lightly.
"no", you mumble lowly. "it was real", you confess and jeonghan stares at you. there was really no point in denying it anymore.
"so… we're not pretending it was some random, fleeting moment?", he asks and you nod slowly. "no, we're not", you repeat more firmly this time. "it wasn’t just a moment."
jeonghan's smile widens, clearly enjoying how easily you’ve slipped into honesty. but there's something else there too, something deeper that you can’t quite put your finger on—satisfaction maybe, or a sense of triumph. "good," he says softly, his hand resting on the edge of your desk. "i'm glad we're on the same page", he adds before he walks away and your mind is spinning with the realization that whatever this is between the both of you—it has only just begun.
that afternoon, you’re in the break room, stirring your coffee while scrolling through your phone. the last thing you expect is for jeonghan to walk in, the door swinging open with a soft creak.
he shoots you that charming smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “hey there,” he says as he walks up to you.
you glance up, trying to keep a straight face but the warmth in your chest gives you away. “what are you doing here?”, you ask as he walks closer.
“what? i can't take a break now?” he replies, walking toward the counter. he stands beside you. his hand slides down the counter, grazing your fingers in the process. his touch is light but deliberate, and your pulse jumps in response. he smirks softly when he notices the effect he’s having on you.
he closes the space between you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. it's so sudden and you glance at him, meeting his eyes. you clear your throat, pretending to be unaffected while jeonghan just stands there looking like he knows exactly what he is doing.
"really? a kiss in the break room?" you mutter, giving him a playful shove.
jeonghan just laughs. “what? it’s not like anyone’s here to see", he says. you narrow your eyes at him. “you're impossible you know,” you say, though there is a playful smile tugging at your lips.
jeonghan’s eyes light up. “impossible? i think you mean irresistible", he says and you roll your eyes dramatically, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face. “you’re so full of yourself", you say with a small laugh.
"and you're cute when you're nervous", he says. you roll your eyes at his words as you turn around to face him, but before you can even protest, he steals a quick kiss, pressing his lips to yours. it's a small fleeting kiss but it's full of warmth.
"jeonghan!", you say. "it's just a kiss, no harm in it", he says.
“no harm?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow, trying to sound serious even though your heart is still thudding in your chest. “you know we can’t—”
“can’t what?” he interrupts, his tone almost too casual. “date? well, technically, no one’s told us we can’t. besides, we can keep it a secret", he adds with a wink as you shoot him a knowing look.
you blink, trying to gather yourself, but there’s something in his eyes that makes it impossible to stay mad at him. “jeonghan,” you repeat again, your voice shaky, “we're not supposed to be doing this".
"but i can’t help it, you’re just so tempting, you know?”, he says.
you groan, trying to shove him away lightly but he doesn't budge. “stop it,” you whisper, but your words lack conviction. there’s a part of you that’s secretly enjoying this, more than you should, more than you’re willing to admit out loud.
“i can’t,” he says, his voice soft. “it’s too hard to resist when you look at me like that", he says, his hand reaching out to brush a lock of your hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a little too long. “and honestly you’re not exactly pulling away are you? you're kissing me back so don't tell me you're not enjoying this", he says and your heart races with the way he's looking at you.
"’i'm being serious!,” you say, your voice a little more urgent now. “we can’t, what if someone sees us, we're going to get caught", you say.
“someone’s going to find out, huh?” jeonghan’s tone is playful as he steps just a little closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “you mean if we keep stealing kisses like this?”, he asks as he slips his hand under your chin, gently tilting your head back towards him. his lips are on yours again before you even realize it, slow and soft this time, like he’s savouring the moment and memorizing the feeling of your lips, taking his time as he moves his lips against yours. your hands grip the counter as you try and steady yourself, getting lost in the feeling of his lips on yours before you realise what you are doing.
“jeonghan, stop it", you say, alarmed at the thought that someone might walk in any moment as you pull away, your heart racing.
"i'll be careful", he says softly as he gently taps your nose lightly with his finger before stepping back, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walks backwards towards the door. "i'll see you later then", he says before turning on his heel and walking out the door, leaving you alone and leaving your breathless.
you don’t know when it started to feel right—when the quiet, stolen moments between the two of you became a part of your daily routine. it's all so new, so unexpected. you try to shake off the giddy feeling, but it lingers. maybe it’s the excitement of the stolen moments, or maybe it’s the way he makes everything feel so effortless. either way, you can’t help but smile to yourself. this secret, this quiet thing between you two—maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all.
Synopsis: Jeonghan is the second hand in a crime syndicate. When you catch his eye, his interest quickly turns into an obsession. And when he wants something, he'll eventually have it.
Warnings: mdni 18+, stalking, dark!jeonghan, b & e, jeonghan is a perv, corruption kink, stolen panties, masturbation (m. rec), jeonghan might be crazy idk, dirty-talk, camera set-up you don't know about, you're the daughter of an FBI agent woahhhhh, you’re his new obsession
WC: 1438+
-
Jeonghan knows he should stay away.
You were everything he was not. Soft, sweet, a light in a world of darkness. Innocent.
Without ever actually meeting, you had crawled yourself under his skin. An itch he couldn't scratch, an itch that he couldn't get rid of.
And so, he watched.
Keeping tabs, learning little crumbs about you to feed his amusement. His interest was piqued; he'd become a dog with his favorite chew toy. He knew where you worked, who your friends were, and where you lived.
On days he wasn't busy, he'd cut time to quietly follow you. Always seventeen steps behind, his hands in his pockets, watching you have no care in the world. How could you not know you were being followed? How could you have headphones over your ears? He could just snatch you away, and you wouldn't even know until it was too late.
His lips pursed together, his eyebrows furrowing as he realized you were so naive - the world had not yet corrupted you. His fingers twitched, curling into his palms to form a fist. And before he could let his intrusive thoughts win and grab you, you had turned the corner, greeting your friend happily as he walked right past.
You were none the wiser.
His interest slowly morphed into an obsession. It happened the moment his tech-guy, Wonwoo, gave him a file. A simple, "You need to see this." Falling from the quiet man's lips, before he had disappeared back into his office, multiple monitors along a wall flashed through hundreds of cameras.
Jeonghan's fingers softly opened the file. A ghost of a smile curving on his lips when he saw there was a candid picture of you on the first page. His finger traces down your cheek, you are smiling so big, and then his eyes flicked to the right, family information.
Seungcheol thinks it's just Jeonghan's luck that you happen to be the daughter of the FBI director who sanctioned a special unit literally out to get Jeonghan and his people. It's tough running a crime syndicate - but Jeonghan always gets what he wants, and he's just decided he wants you.
He has Joshua come with him when he first breaks into your apartment. They broke in about ten minutes after you had already left for work. And they went into every room, one by one, opening every drawer - every cabinet. Joshua searched every pillow, every lampshade, every knick-knack you owned in the living room while Jeonghan took your bedroom himself.
His eyes slowly trailed over your bedroom with a light smirk. The lights strung up on your ceiling, the plush stuffed animals on your bed, and a pile of clothes on a chair in the corner of your bedroom. His fingers danced across your bed. You didn't make it today, and it was still warm from where you lounged in it before racing out the door. He took his time scoping out your dresser, taking a sniff of your perfume, and pocketing a bracelet you had failed to wear today.
When Joshua had moved from the living room to your kitchen, Jeonghan was getting onto his knees to open every drawer in your dresser. He sifted through your socks, smirked through your bras, and salivated through your panties. A pretty lacey one finds its way into his pocket as he moves onto your closet.
He skims through your clothes, already familiar with your favorites, which you would wear over and over again. And finishes his inspection when Joshua finds him again. "Clear," Joshua confirms the same findings as Jeonghan. You're not bugged, Jeonghan grins, perfect.
The second time he breaks in, he brings Joshua and Jihoon. They work your living room and kitchen while Jeonghan takes your bedroom again. They install cameras while you are visiting a friend for lunch.
You still didn't even know Jeonghan had been in your apartment in the first place. And he’d make sure you wouldn’t know now.
But like last time, Jeonghan takes a souvenir - another pair of your panties, this time though, from your dirty laundry basket.
When they finish installing all the cameras, Jeonghan is eager to get home. Your pretty panties feels like it's burning a hole in his pants. And his feet can’t carry him fast enough to his bedroom, the door slamming behind him with a resonating 'click.'
The moment he’s alone, he's instantly bringing your pretty panties up to his face. His eyes fluttering closed, as your scent fills his lungs and causes his mouth to water. He groans, full-out groans, low from his throat - stumbling to his bed, his cock straining against his pants, because he can't get enough of you. He shoves his pants low enough to free his aching cock. It curves up, the mushroom tip red, throbbing, and leaking profusely with his precum.
His long fingers wrap around his fat girth, your panties still shoved against his nose, and he strokes his length from base all the way to tip. His body shudders, his lips parting as he begins to imagine what it would be like if you were here. His thumb swipes over the head of his cock, smearing the precum down his shaft, and the slick creates a lewd squelch each time his wrist flicks, stroking his cock faster each time he takes another huff of your used panties.
He wished you were here.
His hand squeezes his base as his cock twitched at the thought. He could only imagine how you'd look, staring at him wide-eyed as he stroked his cock, knowing you made him like this. It was all for you. His cock swelled, hard, slick with his precum. "Mmph-" Jeonghan grunted, twisting his hand mid stroke and milking more drops of precum to drip down his heavy cock.
You're so innocent, he'd want to make you watch him for a bit as he pumped his fat cock in his hand. Would want to see your eyes round in curiosity, your tongue licking your lips. And when you press your thighs together he would demand you to strip with soft coaxing, manipulation. His stroke would turning languid, slowing down as you would slowly take pieces of your clothing off one by one.
Such a tease.
Once you were completely bare to him, he'd need you to crawl to him. He needed to see you slowly crawl across the bed up to him, your cheeks flushed as you obeyed him without hesitation.
"Lemme see that pretty pussy, Baby." His voice had a strained rasp to it. His balls heavy and filled with so much cum. His cock throbbed with need as you moved closer to Jeonghan. But it wasn't close enough; his tongue licked his lips, wet. His eyes, dark and intense, as he clicked his tongue with a tut. "No, Baby. C'mere," his hand squeezed his cock again as he nodded his head at you, his eyes hooded. "Straddle m'face, wanna see that pretty pussy up close, Baby."
Your thighs would tremble with just hovering over his face. His mouth opens, and he pants over your slicked wet folds. You'd be dripping, soaking wet. And it'd make Jeonghan's head spin, seeing your pretty pussy pulse with need. "Is this all for me?" He could only imagine the pretty little noises that would leave your lips.
His cock jerks, and he curses as he brings your messy panties down onto his heavy cock. The lacey material wraps around his precum-coated shaft along with his hand. And his eyes roll to the back of his head. His hand jerks his cock with your panties, fast. His abs flexing, a warmth pooling in his lower stomach. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," his lips are spit-covered as he curses. His teeth sinking into the bottom of his lip, trying desperately to hold in the whimpers of pleasure. His thighs shook; the obscene, soppy noises of his hand on his cock echoing with his moans.
And when he cums, it's hard and heavy. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, his jaw slacking open in a broken, choked whine. His hand refuses to stop pumping, milking every last drop of his cum from his balls until it overflows and drips down his cock, your panties, and his hand. It's messy, wet, and euphoric. His thighs continue to shaking long after his cock jerks in over-sensitivity.
Your dirty little panties, now covered with his hot, sticky cum, were filthy - ruined. His chest heaved, his lungs aching for breath as he brought the panties back up to his face. His cheeks were flushed darkly, his eyelashes fluttering as his tongue took the panties into his mouth. The taste of you mixed with his own earned another deep groan to fill his bedroom.
You tasted sweet.
You tasted like his.
-
A/N: ... So I heard dark!Jeonghan got possessed, and this was what came out. My mind didn't go to the gutter; it nose-dived into hell. Idk - my mind is a little funny.
But like always, comments, kudos, and feedback are greatly appreciated! I just like talking to people idk-
you can find more of my stuff here in my svt mstr lst - bts mstr lst
Genre: Conglomerate au! Heirs au! Marriage Contract au!
Type: fluff, humour, slow-burn, smut (mdni!)
Word Count: 18k
Summary: Ignoring all the red signs, what started as a friendship blossomed into something Jeonghan never expected. He'll marry you? No way! Right?
It was Saturday night. Jeonghan had just wrapped up drinks with his friends and stumbled through the door close to 1 a.m. With the grace of a man on autopilot, he showered, slipped into his pajamas, and flopped onto his bed, already picturing a peaceful descent into sleep.
That peace lasted all of three minutes. As he casually checked his email—just to pretend he was a responsible adult—his phone lit up with a familiar name. Your name.
He blinked. Once. Twice. What now? he thought, already sobering up just from the possibilities. He swiped up with a sigh and answered the call.
"Hmm, what's up?"
“I'm sorry to call this late, Mr. Yoon, but Doctor Ji is very, very drunk right now—and none of us know where she lives.” The voice on the other end was one of the residents, clearly panicked, with the chaotic background noise of laughter, clinking glasses, and someone yelling about karaoke.
Jeonghan stared at his ceiling, jaw slack. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then muttered to himself, “What kind of doctor gets drunk before the residents do?”
He could already feel a headache forming—not from the alcohol, but from the sheer absurdity of the situation. Nevertheless, he dragged himself upright and asked, “Where is she? Text me the address. I’ll pick her up.”
As soon as the call ended, he stood up from his bed with the dramatic flair of a man who’d just been betrayed by the universe. Again. He trudged into his closet like a soldier going to war.
“It hasn’t even been an hour since I got home,” he grumbled while throwing on a hoodie. “And now I have to babysit this disaster of a genius.” He paused, briefly considering calling for backup, he can’t be alone.
“Why don’t you go there alone?” Seungcheol grumbled, slouched in the passenger seat like a sack of regret, his eyes barely open, hair pointing in every direction.
Jeonghan didn’t even glance at him as he started the engine. “Because you’re the only one who can carry her without dislocating something. She went full spaghetti mode, apparently.”
Seungcheol let out a long, tortured groan, dragging his palm down his face like he was trying to erase himself. “I was asleep, Jeonghan. Deep, peaceful sleep. Like dead-to-the-world sleep. You dragged me.”
“You were snoring like a truck,” Jeonghan said flatly. “You needed the break.”
“I was asleep for forty minutes!”
“Exactly. Power nap. You’re welcome.”
Seungcheol shot him a side glare, but it was hard to be intimidating when he still had pillow creases on his cheek and was clutching a bottle of water like a lifeline. Jeonghan smirked as he turned the corner. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Like a surprise field trip, but worse.”
“God,” Seungcheol muttered, leaning his head against the window, eyes still half-closed. “This better be the last time your friend gets wasted on a Saturday night.”
“She’s your friend too,” Jeonghan shot back, eyes fixed on the road. Seungcheol nodded solemnly, resting his temple on the cool glass. “And every time this kind of thing happens, I regret that fact deeply.”
It had always been the three of you—Jeonghan, Seungcheol, and you—since junior high. The kind of trio fate stitched together because your parents were business acquaintances who ended up liking each other enough to start arranging awkward family dinners. None of you particularly cared what the grown-ups did, but somehow, you stuck together anyway.
Jeonghan’s family owned a sprawling property empire—buildings, department stores, hotels—you name it. He was groomed from birth to take the reins, and it showed. By college, he was already studying business with laser focus, juggling classes and internships at his grandfather’s company. The strange part? He actually enjoyed it.
Seungcheol, on the other hand, came from a construction family. He’d been on-site since his teens, wearing hard hats and acting like he knew what rebar was. Unlike Jeonghan, he wasn’t the eldest son, so the pressure wasn’t as intense. His older brother was the heir to the business empire. Seungcheol? He was more like the wildcard—half working man, half professional napper.
And then there was you. The doctor of the group. Your family ran hospitals, dabbled in healthcare business and insurance, and made sure everyone had a checkup whether they liked it or not. You were the brainiac—dedicated, overachieving, caffeine-fueled and sleepless. Safe to say, you were the smartest, most disciplined, and most respected member of the trio.
Until alcohol entered the chat.
“Let’s go to the unicorn world! I’m flying, I’m flying!” you had squealed, arms spread out like wings, as you practically pirouetted across the party. Jeonghan could’ve melted into the floor from sheer secondhand embarrassment. He bowed to every stunned resident in the room, murmuring apologies on your behalf like a PR intern during a scandal. You had originally told him about the gathering. Said you wouldn’t come. That you didn’t want to intrude on the younger residents’ night off. That you needed rest. Clearly, that plan had gone off the rails somewhere between the tequila shots and the glittery karaoke mic.
Seungcheol looked like a man betrayed by both fate and gravity as he crouched down and hoisted your limp, giggling self onto his back. “Why does she keep saying lollipops?” he grunted, adjusting your deadweight on his back like a dad carrying a sleep-paralysis demon.
Jeonghan tried not to laugh. “Maybe it’s a metaphor.”
“I want rainbow lollipops for my unicorn friends!” you declared joyfully, as if this were a medical order. Seungcheol’s face looked like he aged ten years. “She’s a whole doctor,” he mumbled. “With a license. Who let this happen?”
He maneuvered you into the backseat with the delicacy of someone defusing a bomb, while you hummed a melody only you understood. Jeonghan got behind the wheel with a sigh that carried the weight of several lifetimes. “We’re getting too old for this.”
“And too sober,” Seungcheol muttered, rubbing his temple.
Jeonghan glanced at you through the rearview mirror. You were smiling at the ceiling, whispering something about glitter. Somehow, this was still better than paperwork.
*
You woke up to a splitting headache and the unpleasant dryness in your mouth that only came from a long night of drinking. The ceiling above you wasn’t familiar—it was too neat, too modern, too... Jeonghan. You blinked slowly, trying to piece together how you had ended up here.
Turning your head, you noticed the soft navy sheets and the glass of water placed neatly on the bedside table. Beside it was a strip of painkillers and a small folded note. You reached for it with heavy limbs and unfolded it.
“You owe me. Water and meds provided. – YJ”
A sigh escaped your lips as you sat up, every movement making your head throb. The memories returned in fragments—bright lights, the sound of laughter, someone shouting something about unicorns—which you were that someone. Then Jeonghan’s voice, steady and annoyed, telling someone to get the door. Seungcheol’s back. Your shoes. You winced. Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way slowly into the hallway, guided by the faint smell of toasted bread. The apartment was quiet, bathed in the soft gray light of the overcast morning. You passed by the minimalist decor—clean lines, neutral tones, everything in its place. Jeonghan’s taste had always been meticulous.
In the kitchen, Jeonghan stood by the counter, coffee mug in hand, scrolling through his phone. He looked up at the sound of your steps. “You’re up,” he said, voice calm, though his eyes lingered on you like he was assessing whether you could still walk straight. “There’s toast. Sit.”
You nodded silently and lowered yourself into the chair, still trying to sort out where the nausea ended and the shame began. He slid a plate toward you and turned back to pour more coffee. The kettle clicked in the background, the only sound filling the space between you. You picked at the toast, avoiding his eyes, though you could feel his presence—calm, composed, and, somehow, not entirely annoyed despite everything.
“Thanks,” you finally murmured.
Jeonghan took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t mention it. Just remind me to never trust you when you say you’re ‘just going to rest tonight.’”
You gave a quiet hum in response, unsure of what else to say. Your head still pounded, and your stomach twisted at the thought of facing the residents again. But for now, in the quiet of Jeonghan’s kitchen, you allowed yourself to breathe.
“Seungcheol’s going to kill you the next time you make him visit a site without sleep,” Jeonghan said casually, taking another sip of his coffee.
You groaned, just imagining the wrath that would follow. “Why’d you bring him anyway?”
Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at you. “Because you’re heavy.”
You shot him a flat look. “That’s insulting.”
He shrugged, completely unfazed. “It’s just the truth. I wasn’t about to throw out my back for your drunken acrobatics.”
You pressed your palm against your forehead, partly because of the headache, mostly to hide your embarrassment. “I can’t believe I drank so much…”
Jeonghan leaned against the counter, arms crossed now, looking far too composed for someone who had hauled your half-conscious self home just hours ago. “You know I had to bow to your residents, right?” he said, voice dry with lingering disbelief.
You blinked up at him, wincing. “Like… say sorry?”
“No. Bow,” he emphasized, straightening his back before dramatically mimicking a deep, ninety-degree angle. “Full. Respectful. Formal. Like I’d committed a crime on behalf of my drunk accomplice.”
You covered your face with both hands, letting out a muffled groan. “God, no…”
“Oh yes,” he nodded solemnly. “You stood on a chair at one point and yelled, ‘Let’s go to the unicorn world!’ before asking a confused intern if he believed in candy rain.”
You let your forehead fall to the table.
“I had no choice,” he went on. “I bowed so deeply, I think I pulled something in my spine. Your future underlings now think I’m your guardian, therapist, or some combination of the two.”
You peeked up at him through your fingers. “Are you done humiliating me yet?”
He smiled, a little too satisfied. “Just making sure you know the price of your glitter-filled delusions.”
You groaned again and reached for your coffee. “I’m never drinking again.”
“Good,” he said, already walking away. “I’ll print that on a shirt for the next time you forget.”
*
The last time Jeonghan and Seungcheol had seen you cry was years ago—on a bleak afternoon neither of them ever forgot. It was ten minutes before the next class. Seungcheol had been looking for you, clutching a half-finished math worksheet in one hand, fully intending to beg for your help. He spotted you slipping into the restroom and figured you’d be out in a minute or two. But time stretched. One minute became five. Five became ten. You still hadn’t come out. Jeonghan showed up just then, sweaty from football practice, jersey clinging to him, his forehead glistening. He slowed when he noticed Seungcheol standing awkwardly near the entrance to the girls’ restroom.
“Why are you here?” Jeonghan asked, eyeing Seungcheol suspiciously, brows drawn together. “You better not be turning into some creep.”
Seungcheol scoffed, waving the math sheet. “Y/n’s in there. I need her help before class, but she’s been inside too long.”
Jeonghan was about to make a smart remark when the door swung open.
And that’s when they saw it.
You stumbled out of the restroom, pushed by a group of girls who scattered the moment the hallway came into view. You hit the floor hard, your knees scraping the tile. Egg yolk ran down your hair, staining the collar of your uniform. The shell fragments clung to your shoulders. You didn’t even look up. Your fingers trembled as they gripped the edge of your skirt, your shoulders shaking as silent sobs began to rise.
For a second, the hallway froze.
Seungcheol’s face twisted in disbelief—then fury. His voice roared through the corridor, echoing off the walls like a thunderclap. “HEY!” The rage in his tone sent students scattering, teachers peeking from classrooms. You could almost feel the walls tremble from the force of it. Jeonghan, quicker on his feet, rushed toward you. Without saying a word, he crouched down and gently reached for your arm, helping you up with a firm but careful grip.
Teachers began rushing over, alerted by the commotion and Seungcheol’s outburst. A crowd formed, but the two boys stayed focused only on you. While the staff tried to piece together what had happened, Jeonghan and Seungcheol quietly helped you clean yourself up. Jeonghan gently patted the egg out of your hair with tissues someone had handed him, his jaw tight, eyes lowered in uncharacteristic silence. Seungcheol stood close, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his foot tapping in agitation as he watched the teachers murmur among themselves.
“Tell us,” Seungcheol said finally, his voice low but heavy with restrained anger. “What did they do to you… all this time?”
You hesitated, still trembling, your hands fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve.
“That’s okay,” Jeonghan added, softer this time. He crouched slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you. “You can tell us. We’re here.”
You looked between the two of them—their faces, so familiar, so fiercely protective—and something cracked inside your chest. The tears spilled faster now, your voice shaking as you whispered:
“They said I didn’t deserve to be friends with you two.”
The words hung in the air like something sharp and cold.
“They said… girls like me don’t belong around guys like you.”
Jeonghan’s hands froze. Seungcheol’s face twisted in disbelief and rage, his knuckles going white as he clenched his fists.
“So they did all this to you… because of us?” Jeonghan muttered, his tone laced with guilt and disbelief.
You nodded, tears still rolling down your cheeks, and Jeonghan swallowed hard, brushing a piece of hair from your face. “I’m so sorry.”
Seungcheol took a step back, pacing now, muttering curses under his breath before spinning to face the teachers. “You heard her, right? Are you going to do something or do we handle this ourselves?”
The teachers quickly moved to disperse the crowd and collect statements, while Jeonghan stayed beside you, gently guiding you toward the nurse’s office again.
From that day on, it wasn’t just protection they offered.
It was loyalty. And a silent promise: no one would ever hurt you again—not while they were around.
And they hadn’t seen you cry ever since.
It was a quiet testament to your strength. Through the sleepless nights of medical school, grueling exams, endless shifts, and the burden of responsibility that came with being a doctor—you carried it all with a calm, composed grace. Even when things got hard, you wore your tired smile like armor.
Jeonghan and Seungcheol, as tough as they liked to act, had both cried in front of you more than once—Jeonghan when he lost his dog, Seungcheol after his first failed business pitch. You were the one who listened, the one who stayed solid while they fell apart. But you never let them see you break.
Not until the day Jeonghan received the call: your mother had passed away.
He’d just stepped out of a late meeting when his phone buzzed with the news. For a moment, the world stood still. He didn’t even think—he just grabbed his keys and drove, breaking every speed limit until the hospital’s tall white building came into view.
Your family hospital.
He rushed in through the emergency entrance, eyes scanning frantically. That was when he saw Seungcheol—already there, crouched in front of a figure slumped on the bench outside the ICU.
You.
Still in your hospital coat, hands limp in your lap, eyes staring into nothing. The lights above cast a pale glow on your face, and even from a distance, Jeonghan could see how hollow your expression was. You looked like someone who had forgotten how to breathe.
Seungcheol gently held your wrist, whispering something, his brows drawn in pain.
Jeonghan approached slowly, like something sacred had cracked in the room and he didn’t want to shatter it further. His throat tightened at the sight. You, the strongest one among them, looked so small.
And for the first time since high school, he saw your tears again. Silent, slow, like they had been waiting years to fall.
*
The funeral had gone by quietly, solemn and dignified—just the way your mother would have wanted. You hadn’t spoken much, but Jeonghan and Seungcheol stayed by your side the entire time, like silent shadows that grounded you when everything else felt like air. Afterward, the three of you got into Jeonghan’s car and drove in silence toward your family home. The atmosphere was heavy, as if the car itself understood the weight of where you were headed. A meeting had been scheduled with your mother’s lawyer—an urgent, important matter concerning her will.
Your mother hadn’t just been the heart of your family; she was also the true pillar behind the hospital’s legacy. While your father held the position of director, it was your mother who built it from the ground up—brick by brick, department by department. Her name was the one that opened doors, earned respect, and kept the hospital’s vision alive.
And now, she is gone.
Two days later, Seungcheol stopped by Jeonghan’s office early in the morning, still in his work clothes after a visit to the construction site. His shoulders looked unusually stiff, his expression unreadable as he sank into the couch with a quiet sigh. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat there like a man lost in thought.
Jeonghan, watching from behind his desk, narrowed his eyes. “Say it,” he urged, standing and making his way to the seat across from Seungcheol.
Seungcheol finally looked up, brow furrowed like he was still trying to wrap his head around it. “Y/n called me this morning.”
Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, already sensing this wasn’t just a casual update.
“It was about her mother’s inheritance,” Seungcheol said slowly. “She’s not getting any money. No property. Nothing.”
Jeonghan’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “What? But she’s the only one following in her mother’s footsteps. She works in healthcare. She’s the most qualified out of everyone.”
Seungcheol nodded, eyes still distant. “Exactly. But the lawyer said she’ll inherit the hospital—not the money, not the land—only the hospital.”
Jeonghan leaned back, frowning. “That’s not bad, though.”
Seungcheol lifted a hand. “There’s a catch.”
Jeonghan stared at him, already bracing for it.
“She can only inherit the hospital if she gets married.”
Jeonghan blinked. “Excuse me?”
“And…” Seungcheol hesitated for a second longer. “She asked me to marry her.”
That snapped Jeonghan upright. “What?”
His voice was louder than he expected, heart thudding as the words echoed in the room. Seungcheol just stared back at him, not saying a word. He let out a long breath, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, palms rubbing together as if the friction might help him make sense of it all.
“I want to help her, of course I do,” he said quietly. “She’s my best friend. You know that. She’s like the sister I never had.”
Jeonghan stayed still, eyes narrowing slightly.
Seungcheol went on, voice heavy with sincerity. “If it was just about signing papers or pretending in front of the board, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But this isn’t just some temporary fix. It’s marriage. And I’m not ready for that—not emotionally, not mentally. I’d end up hurting her, and she doesn’t deserve that.”
His fingers curled into fists for a moment before he looked up again, meeting Jeonghan’s gaze.
“That’s why I suggested your name.”
Silence settled in the room like a weight. Jeonghan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—shock, maybe, or something more complicated.
“You,” Seungcheol said slowly, “understand her better than anyone. You’ve seen her at her lowest, at her best. And I know—no matter how you act—you care about her deeply.”
Jeonghan didn’t respond right away. He stared at Seungcheol like he had just been pushed off a cliff and was still waiting to hit the ground.
Jeonghan blinked slowly, then scoffed—loudly. He leaned back against the couch, crossed one leg over the other, and stared at Seungcheol like he’d just confessed to selling his soul for bubblegum.
“You’re stupid,” he finally said, his tone half in disbelief, half in frustration. “That’s your solution? Throwing your other friend under the bus?”
Seungcheol frowned. “I’m not throwing you—”
“Yes, you are!” Jeonghan snapped, pointing at him. “You get hit with a hard question and suddenly, ‘Oh! Let’s sacrifice Jeonghan! He can take it!’ What am I? The neighborhood rescue dog?”
“You make it sound worse than it is,” Seungcheol muttered.
“It is worse than it is!” Jeonghan stood up and paced a few steps, dragging a hand through his hair. “Do you think this is a joke? Marriage? With Y/n? She’s not just anyone. This is her life. Her grief. Her mother’s legacy.”
Seungcheol looked down at his hands, quiet for a beat. “That’s exactly why I thought of you.”
Jeonghan turned to him, still fuming.
“You're the only one who won't hurt her. Even when you're pissed, you take care of her. You’re the only one who can handle her breakdowns, her sarcasm, her late-night hospital shifts. You’ve already been doing it for years. This wouldn’t even be a stretch.”
Jeonghan paused. The silence that followed wasn’t light—it hung in the air like the stillness before a storm. “You’re not wrong,” he finally said, his voice low. “But don’t ever decide for me again.”
Seungcheol met his eyes, apologetic.
“So,” Jeonghan said, almost like a challenge, “did she say anything else?”
“She asked if it was a dumb idea,” Seungcheol answered, faintly smiling. “I told her it was—but that if anyone could turn a dumb idea into something real, it’d be you.”
Jeonghan let out a quiet, mirthless laugh. “You’re so lucky I don’t punch you for sport.”
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Jeonghan stood by the window of his office, arms folded, his eyes locked on the city skyline, though his thoughts were far from the view.
“I’m not going to marry her,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of hesitation.
Seungcheol blinked, stunned. “What?”
“I said I’m not going to marry Y/n.” Jeonghan turned around, walking back to his desk with deliberate steps. “I’ve never seen her that way. Not once. She’s my friend. She’s like… like a teammate I’ve been stuck in the same chaotic group project with since we were twelve.”
Seungcheol frowned. “Jeonghan—”
“I don’t see her as a woman,” Jeonghan said, firmer now. “Not in that sense. She’s Y/n. She’s the one who used to eat her lunch with gloves on because she didn’t want to smudge her notes. She’s the one who screamed at me for skipping class but once stole hospital scrubs just to sneak me in when I twisted my ankle.”
He let out a breath, quieter. “She’s family, Cheol. And I don’t marry family.”
Seungcheol leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But family is the reason she’s doing this. You know her—she won’t marry for love, not now. She just wants to protect the hospital.”
“And I get that,” Jeonghan nodded, gaze hard. “But she deserves someone who will at least try to see her differently. Someone who won’t just treat it like a task. If she marries me, she’ll never get that.”
There was a brief silence. A mature one. Heavy.
“…So what are you going to do?” Seungcheol asked.
Jeonghan exhaled. “I’ll talk to her. But I’m not going to lie and pretend I can be that person.”
*
Jeonghan woke with a pounding headache, the weight of last night's whiskey still pressing against his skull. The faint hum of the hotel’s air conditioner and the filtered morning light slipping through the curtains made him squint. He rubbed at his eyes and let out a low groan, slowly sitting up. His head throbbed harder when he took in the room—still the executive suite at his family’s hotel, where he’d had a meeting yesterday. The same place where he’d waited for you after your hospital shift, sipping on whiskey in the private lounge while the hours bled together in blurred conversation and laughter.
Bottles—empty, half-empty, forgotten—lined the table and nightstand like silent witnesses. Jackets were slung across a chair, shoes scattered in odd places. He recognized his own watch on the floor, next to a trail of clothes that didn’t belong solely to him. And then, instinctively, his eyes drifted to the side—his breath caught.
You were there. Curled up under the duvet, sleeping deeply, hair a mess, bare shoulders exposed. His eyes dropped lower and quickly darted away. The pounding in his head was now joined by a growing pit in his stomach. He glanced down at himself—also bare under the sheets.
Jeonghan froze, every nerve in his body suddenly alert despite the hangover. His brain scrambled, trying to piece together the end of last night. The drinks. The conversation. Your tired laugh. Your hands brushing his when you reached for the bottle. A kiss. God—there was a kiss. Then—
“Shit.”
He dragged a hand down his face and leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t remember the details, but he remembered enough.
This was supposed to be a conversation about the hospital. About you, asking him if there was any way to make things work.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
“Y/n,” he muttered quietly, as if saying your name would make you stir, so he could ask what the hell happened—or maybe apologize before either of you remembered it all too clearly.
But you didn’t move. You were still peacefully asleep, unaware of the chaos swirling in his mind. And Jeonghan could already feel the fallout coming like a wave.
You stirred with a faint groan, blinking at the ceiling. Your head felt heavy, your mouth dry, and for a moment, you couldn't quite remember where you were. The bedding was softer than your own, and the faint scent of Jeonghan’s cologne lingered in the room.
Then you turned your head.
Your gaze met his. Eyes wide. His were already on you—equally frozen.
You blinked again. Slowly sat up. Felt the cold air on your bare shoulders. Glanced down. Sheets. Your breath caught in your throat.
“Wait—” you started, pulling the blanket tighter around your body as panic registered in your eyes. “No. No, no, no—”
Jeonghan shifted upright too, the sheets crumpling over his lap as he sat against the headboard, just as stunned.
“I—I don’t—” You struggled to speak, grabbing your phone off the nightstand like it could explain what had happened, but it only showed missed messages and your alarm.
You looked back at him, mortified. “Did we…? We didn’t…?”
Jeonghan didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched slightly, eyes flickering to the bottles on the nightstand, then to your flushed and confused face. “I think we did.”
You stared at him, heart hammering in your chest. “Oh my God.” Your voice cracked as the memory fragments came rushing in—your shift ending late, Jeonghan waiting for you with drinks, your frustration spilling out in emotional rambling, the comfort, the nearness… the way you let your guard down.
And then—nothing. Just heat, blurred kisses, and now this.
“I don’t remember,” you whispered.
“Me neither,” Jeonghan admitted, rubbing his temple with one hand, eyes falling shut in disbelief.
Silence stretched between you, loud and suffocating.
Then you exhaled shakily and muttered, “We’re screwed.”
Jeonghan didn’t disagree.
The tension in the room crackled as you both scrambled to collect your clothes, the sheets tangling and slipping with every sudden movement. Jeonghan cursed under his breath as he checked the time on his phone. “Shit. I’m late.”
You were already half-dressed, pulling your blouse over your head with trembling fingers. “I need to go home before anyone notices I’m not back.”
Jeonghan hopped awkwardly on one foot as he tried to tug his pants on, his shirt still unbuttoned, hair a mess. “This didn’t happen. Okay?”
You glanced at him, eyes wide. “It happened.”
“Yeah, but—” He buttoned his shirt wrong and huffed. “We don’t remember it.”
“Exactly,” you nodded, slipping your shoes on. “We don’t remember. So technically, it’s like it didn’t happen.”
“Just one night,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and grabbing his keys.
“One mistake,” you replied without thinking, then paused. “I mean—just a slip. We were drunk.”
“Super drunk,” Jeonghan agreed quickly.
You met his eyes for a second too long. And then both of you looked away, awkwardly clearing your throats.
“Let’s never talk about it,” you said as you reached for the door.
“Never,” Jeonghan echoed, already stuffing papers into his bag like a man fleeing a crime scene.
You stepped out first, your heart still racing. Jeonghan followed a few seconds later, closing the hotel room door behind him with a click. Neither of you looked back.
*
“So how did the talk go?” Seungcheol’s voice rang casually through the phone as you stepped into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you.
Your eyes caught your reflection in the mirror by the entryway—tired eyes, tousled hair, and—
Oh God.
Your hand instinctively flew to your collarbone, fingers brushing over the unmistakable marks scattered along your skin, trailing up to your neck. Hickeys. Bold, undeniable evidence of something you had no memory of.
“It went... well,” you replied, voice a little too high, a little too unsure.
“Yeah?” Seungcheol sounded genuinely hopeful. “So… did he agree?”
Your heart thudded. Did Jeonghan agree to marry me? You remembered he had said no—clear, direct. But after that? Your memory was a blur of golden lights, his glass of whiskey in your hand, his laugh, your boldness, the heat—
You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to stay calm. “We were just talking, you know…” you said slowly, choosing each word like it was a landmine. “The conversation didn’t really get to a yes or no. We got distracted. Talked about other things.”
Technically not a lie. Just… not the whole truth.
“Still,” Seungcheol continued on the other end of the line, completely unaware of the storm in your chest, “I think Jeonghan would understand you. He’s always treated you well. I mean, out of the two of us, he’s the one who always had more patience with your chaos.”
You let out a nervous laugh, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “Yeah… he did.”
“Just be honest with him,” Seungcheol added, almost gently. “Jeonghan might act like a brat sometimes, but when it comes to you, he’s different. He cares. You know that.”
Your hand tightened around your blouse
And that’s when it happened.
A flash—so quick you almost thought you imagined it.
His hand on your cheek. His lips on yours. The taste of whiskey between you. The slow burn of a kiss that felt nothing like friendship.
You blinked, your fingers going still.
“Y/n? You still there?”
You swallowed hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”
But part of you wasn’t. Part of you was still stuck in that hotel room, with the soft memory of Jeonghan's mouth on yours, and the way your heart had almost stopped.
“…he’s always been there for you, Y/n. I just think if there’s anyone who could help you through this, it’s Jeonghan,” Seungcheol said, his voice calm through the receiver.
But his words became a blur as your mind started to slip—like a dam cracking open with every syllable he spoke. You could still feel it. The heat of Jeonghan’s breath against your neck. The way his hands gripped your waist—hesitant at first, then desperate. The sting of your back hitting the cool sheets as he hovered over you, his brows furrowed, pupils blown wide, whispering your name like it meant something new.
Like it was no longer just “Y/n,” his friend.
You bit your lip hard, hoping the physical pain would erase the memory. It didn’t.
“Y/n?” Seungcheol’s voice snapped you back. “You okay?”
“Yeah—yeah, sorry.” You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus. “I just… didn’t get much sleep.” Which wasn’t a lie. You hadn’t slept. Not really. Not after the warmth, the weight, and the realization of what you had done with Jeonghan.
And now, you weren’t sure what scared you more—
The fact that it happened or the fact that a part of you… didn’t regret it.
The next time you and Jeonghan crossed paths was on Seungcheol’s birthday.
Unlike the lavish celebrations expected of a conglomerate’s son, Seungcheol never cared for extravagance. Neither did you or Jeonghan. Since high school, birthdays had always been about the same three things: the three of you, some good food, late-night conversations that stretched until dawn, and a morning-after spent groggy on the couch with empty plates scattered around.
You had just finished a long night shift at the hospital, and thankfully, the rest of the day—and tomorrow—was free. You arrived first at Seungcheol’s place, arms full with takeout and a small cake box. The hallway was quiet, the lights dimmed. You punched in the passcode on the door panel—his birthday, reversed, a code that hadn’t changed in years—and stepped into the familiar apartment.
It smelled like wood and faint cologne, the kind Seungcheol always wore when he had meetings. You set the food on the kitchen counter, the soft thump of containers echoing in the stillness. No lights, no music, no sign of the birthday boy yet. You glanced at the time—he and Jeonghan were running late.
You sank into the couch, stretching out your legs and letting the silence settle around you.
It had been two weeks since that night with Jeonghan.
Two weeks since the hotel room, the drinks, the foggy heat of something you still couldn’t fully piece together.
Two weeks of zero contact.
And now, you were here. Waiting.
The digital clock ticked louder than usual, each second dragging a bit more tension with it. You tried not to overthink, tried to focus on anything else—your phone screen, the soft hum of the refrigerator—but your mind kept drifting back to the last time you saw Jeonghan… and the things you didn’t say.
The sound of the door unlocking pulled you from your thoughts. A soft beep, followed by the mechanical click of the passcode panel disengaging. You sat up instinctively, smoothing your hair as footsteps approached.
The door swung open, and there he was—Jeonghan. He paused in the doorway when he saw you, the chill of the hallway air still clinging to his coat. His brows rose slightly, surprise flickering across his face. His hair was pushed back messily, like he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times on the way here.
“…You’re early,” he said slowly, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. “Didn’t expect to see you here first.”
You stood, wiping your palms down your pants out of habit. “I had a night shift. Got off earlier than planned. Figured I’d bring food before you two showed up.”
Jeonghan shrugged off his coat and hung it by the door. “Seungcheol texted. Said he’s caught up in some family business and running late.”
You nodded, the air between you tightening slightly. The silence that followed wasn’t loud, but it was thick—weighted by everything unspoken, everything half-remembered.
Jeonghan walked into the living room, glanced at the table. “You brought japchae?” His voice tried for casual.
“Yeah. And chicken. And that weird yogurt drink Seungcheol likes for no reason.”
Jeonghan smiled faintly and let out a soft, amused breath, the tension momentarily diffused. “You still remember his obsession with that stuff?”
“I wish I didn’t. It haunts me.”
You both let out a low chuckle, but it didn’t last. Jeonghan’s eyes eventually met yours again—this time, slower, more hesitant. Neither of you mentioned the last time you’d seen each other. Not the hotel. Not the drinks. Not the hazy memories.
Not the fact that you hadn’t talked since.
But it lingered anyway.
Just beneath the surface.
Before either of you could say anything else, the familiar beep of the door's passcode rang through the apartment again, followed by the sound of Seungcheol’s voice calling out, “I brought the good stuff!”
You and Jeonghan turned toward the entrance as Seungcheol walked in with a plastic bag in one hand and a bottle of whiskey proudly held in the other. His coat was half off his shoulders, hair slightly tousled from rushing over.
He spotted you both and grinned. “Oh good, both of you made it. Now it feels like my birthday.”
You offered a small smile, grateful for the interruption. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”
“I had to. It’s tradition,” Seungcheol said, setting the bottle down on the table with an exaggerated flourish. “Besides, this one’s aged fifteen years. Older than most of our decisions lately.”
Jeonghan gave a dry chuckle and raised a brow. “Including yours?”
“Especially mine,” Seungcheol smirked before plopping down onto the couch and glancing between the two of you. “So. Are we gonna pretend everything’s normal or do I need to spike your drinks first?”
You sat down beside him while Jeonghan stayed standing, his hands resting in his pockets. The tension hadn’t disappeared. It just moved aside to make room for Seungcheol’s usual way of diffusing it—with humor and whiskey.
*
Seungcheol had long retreated to his room, knocked out cold from the whiskey he insisted on drinking more of than anyone else. The walls of his apartment were thick, thank god—but not thick enough to silence the storm brewing next door.
The atmosphere had shifted the moment his bedroom door closed. You and Jeonghan were left alone in the living room, both pretending to focus on an old movie playing on the screen, but neither of you actually watching. The silence wasn’t comfortable—it was charged, thick with memories neither of you had fully come to terms with.
Your breath hitched when Jeonghan shifted closer, his knee brushing yours on the couch. You turned your head slightly, only to find him already watching you—eyes unreadable, voice low.
“Do you remember anything from that night?” he asked.
You swallowed hard. “Pieces.”
“Same,” he muttered, before pausing. “But I remember how it felt.”
The two of you breathed heavily, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Once. Twice. Then, with a swift motion, he pulled you closer, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. His large hands tenderly cradled your cheeks, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine, before his lips descended onto yours with a fervent intensity.
"Shit... I've been thinking about your lips lately," he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent tingles through your body.
His other hand found its way to your waist, firm yet gentle, guiding you effortlessly to settle on his lap. The kiss remained unbroken, a seamless blend of passion and longing, as time seemed to stand still around you.
"Seungcheol is in his room," you murmured breathlessly, breaking the kiss that had left you both gasping for air.
"Forget him," Jeonghan replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He's too drunk to notice anything." Without waiting for further protest, he drew you back into a fervent kiss, his lips capturing yours with an urgency that sent shivers down your spine.
In one swift motion, Jeonghan stood up, effortlessly lifting you into his arms. He carried you down the dimly lit hallway to Seungcheol's guest room, nudging the door open with ease. The soft creak of the hinges was barely audible over the sound of your quickened breaths. Gently, he laid you down onto the bed, the sheets cool against your skin. His hands began to explore the contours of your body with a deliberate tenderness, slowly unbuttoning and removing your blouse.
Your own hands found their way to the hem of his shirt, tugging it free from his pants with an urgency that mirrored his own. Your fingers fumbled slightly as they worked to unbutton his shirt, tracing the lines of his chest as you maintained the passionate kiss.
"Seungcheol is going to kill us," Jeonghan murmured, a hint of playful defiance in his voice, as his hands deftly moved to your pants, sliding them down to reveal your bare skin.
"Fucking in his guest room," he chuckled softly, "He's going to kill us."
Yet, the thrill of the moment was too intoxicating to resist.
You woke up just past noon, your head pounding like a bass drum. The sunlight bleeding through the edges of the curtain felt far too aggressive for your condition. Groaning, you sat up and realized you were no longer in your own clothes. Instead, you were dressed in one of Seungcheol’s oversized T-shirts—soft, worn-in cotton that practically swallowed your frame. Jeonghan must’ve grabbed it from your friend’s closet sometime during the night.q
You shuffled out of the guest bedroom, rubbing your temple, and found Jeonghan and Seungcheol slouched over the dining table. Both looked equally wrecked, hair messy and eyes puffy, nursing bowls of takeout soup in complete silence.
“Go eat this,” Jeonghan said as he pulled out the chair beside him without looking up. His voice was low and hoarse, like it hadn't fully woken up yet.
Seungcheol finally looked over—and froze. His eyes widened at the sight of his favorite T-shirt hanging loosely on you.
“Yah!” he exclaimed, pointing a dramatic finger. “Why are you wearing that one?! That’s my favorite!”
You squinted at him, then turned slowly to glare at Jeonghan, who was now struggling to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. That motherfucker definitely knew what he was doing when he dressed you in it.
You huffed, muttering, “I’m sorry… I was too drunk to realize.” Then, without missing a beat, you shot Jeonghan a sharp look. “Apparently, someone wasn’t.”
“I got you another one,” Jeonghan said innocently—like he’d planned this whole thing.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “You two are unbelievable.”
You sat down across from the two men, your eyes flickering between Jeonghan and Seungcheol as you tried to piece yourself together. The hot soup in front of you sent a wave of steam into your face, grounding you for a moment. But not enough to forget the way Jeonghan’s lips had moved against yours last night. Not enough to forget his fingers fumbling with your buttons, the urgency in his breath, the way he whispered your name like a secret meant only for the dark.
You stirred the soup absently, heart pounding all over again.
Seungcheol groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Seriously though, how much did we drink? My head’s splitting in half.”
“More than we should’ve,” Jeonghan muttered, voice calm—almost too calm. His fingers tapped against the ceramic bowl rhythmically, but he hadn’t taken a single bite. You knew that look—he was pretending everything was fine. Like last night didn’t happen.
You hadn’t even had the nerve to look him in the eye.
“Why do I feel like I missed something?” Seungcheol mumbled, squinting between the two of you.
You flinched slightly, and Jeonghan cleared his throat.
“You missed your chance to stop me from letting her steal your favorite shirt,” he said, with a casual smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.
You forced a laugh, weak and quick, and focused again on your soup.
But the silence between you and Jeonghan stretched thin, thick with the weight of unspoken words and the memory of skin against skin—while Seungcheol had been passed out in the next room, completely unaware that his two closest friends were crossing a line that neither of you had dared touch before.
And now here you were—sitting in your best friend’s kitchen, wearing his favorite shirt, next to the man who'd kissed you breathless hours before—and neither of you knew what to do next.
“So,” Seungcheol said, dragging the word out as he slumped deeper into his chair. He set his empty bowl aside and gave you a long, expectant look. “Have you thought more about the hospital situation?”
Your spoon hovered mid-air, steam curling around your face as you blinked. A quiet clink echoed when the utensil touched the edge of the bowl. Across the table, Jeonghan stiffened—just slightly, but you noticed.
“I’m… still thinking about it,” you murmured, eyes focused on the soup like it held all the answers.
Seungcheol frowned, tapping his fingers against the table. “You said that two weeks ago.”
You didn’t reply. Mostly because you didn’t know what to say without glancing at Jeonghan. And you couldn’t afford to glance at Jeonghan right now.
He barreled on. “Look. I know it’s insane. ‘Get married or lose the hospital’ sounds like something out of a bad K-drama. But your mom built that place. She poured her whole damn life into it. It’s not just a building—it’s your inheritance. Your future.”
You drew in a breath, let it out slowly. Seungcheol had always known how to strike right at the center of things. You hated him for it sometimes.
“And when you asked me…” He leaned in now, elbows on the table, voice gentler. “I really did consider it. I mean, you’re my best friend. You’ve been with me through every breakup, every hangover, every stupid decision I ever made. Of course I thought about saying yes.”
You lifted your eyes to meet his. There was sincerity there. Regret, even.
“But I knew I’d screw it up eventually,” he added, chuckling dryly. “We’d end up resenting each other. I’d probably forget your anniversary and show up late to your divorce hearing.”
Despite yourself, you laughed softly.
Seungcheol smiled. “I’m chaos. You need someone steady. Someone who knows how to make you breathe instead of panic. Someone who… already knows you inside out.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
“That’s why I told you to ask him.”
There was no need to look. You felt the shift in Jeonghan’s posture before Seungcheol even gestured toward him.
You didn’t turn your head. You couldn’t. The air felt too thick now. Even blinking felt like a risk.
“But this guy,” Seungcheol said, waving his spoon at Jeonghan with mock betrayal, “just flat out refused. No hesitation. No drama. Just a cold-ass no.”
There was a sharp pause. Jeonghan set down his bowl with more force than necessary.
“I didn’t refuse,” he said, his voice quiet, clipped. “I said I didn’t think marriage was the solution.”
Seungcheol scoffed. “Same difference.”
Jeonghan’s jaw flexed. “It’s not.”
You finally looked at him then. His face was unreadable, but his fingers were curled too tightly around the edge of the table. Tension lived in every part of him.
Seungcheol leaned back, sighing like a man fed up with the world. “You two already bicker like you’ve been married five years. The chemistry’s right there. Even my mom thinks you’re dating.”
You flushed, dropping your gaze. Jeonghan didn’t say a word.
“She’s not someone I see that way.”
His words landed with the dull thud of a stone in water. No ripple. Just sinking.
Your stomach twisted. You could still feel the weight of his hands from the night before. The way his breath had hitched when your lips met. The way he’d held you like he was afraid you’d vanish. And now—this.
“Oh, okay,” Seungcheol said, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Cool.”
You forced a breath through your nose and tried not to react. You weren’t going to ask. You weren’t going to break.
“I’ll figure something else out,” you said quickly, your voice a little too tight, a little too rehearsed. “I always do.”
Seungcheol looked at you, brows drawing together in concern, but didn’t push further.
You felt Jeonghan’s eyes on you, though. Like a weight you couldn’t shrug off. You didn’t dare meet his gaze.
But under the table, your knees brushed. A fleeting contact—barely noticeable. And he didn’t move.
Neither did you.
And maybe that was the problem.
*
The clatter of silverware and the low murmur of polite conversation filled the dining room, where Jeonghan sat awkwardly between his mother and a cousin he barely recognized. His parents had insisted on a full family dinner—“We haven’t all been together in months, Jeonghan-ah!”—and now he was regretting not faking a fever.
He was halfway through picking at a slice of galbi when his father leaned in a little too casually and said, “Did you hear about Y/n’s father?”
Jeonghan blinked. He hadn’t heard her name all evening—had tried not to think about her, if he was honest.
“What about him?” he asked, trying to sound neutral, but his voice already had a tension to it.
“He’s getting remarried,” his father said, mouth full of japchae. “Some woman from Busan. Younger. Pretty well-off, I heard.”
Jeonghan stilled. His chopsticks hovered mid-air.
Jeonghan couldn’t sit still after dinner.
Three months.
Three damn months after your mother passed, and your father was already signing marriage papers with a woman who had no history with your family, no ties to the hospital, no respect for what your mother built. The news echoed in his mind like a warning bell—and the worst part? You hadn’t even told him. Or Seungcheol.
By the time Jeonghan slammed the car door shut and stalked into Seungcheol’s apartment, his jaw was already locked tight. His parents had dropped the bomb at the tail end of dinner like it was gossip over dessert.
“Did you hear? Her father’s remarrying already. Three months. Can you believe it?”
Three months since her mother’s funeral. Jeonghan remembered how you barely made it through the eulogy without shaking. How you’d curled up in the backseat of his car afterward, still in your funeral hanbok, silent except for the occasional sound of your breathing—too calm, too quiet, like you were holding your whole grief together by the thread of not saying anything out loud.
And now this.
“She doesn’t know,” Seungcheol said lazily from the couch without looking up from his phone, glancing over Jeonghan’s stormy entrance like it was just another Tuesday. “Or at least… she didn’t tell me either.”
Jeonghan stopped mid-pace, scoffing. “She knows.”
He ran a hand through his hair, the strands falling back into place messily. “She always knows. She just—doesn’t want to talk about it.”
The room quieted. Even Seungcheol lowered his phone now.
“Ya,” Jeonghan said, his voice low. “She just lost her mom. And now her dad’s acting like she was never part of that life. Like she’s replaceable.”
“I know,” Seungcheol murmured. “I didn’t think it would actually come to this, but….”
Jeonghan turned, alert.
Seungcheol hesitated, brows furrowed, voice heavy with guilt. “Y/n’s dad is planning to take back the hospital. Legally. If she’s not married by the time the board votes on succession, he’ll have the right to reclaim everything.”
Jeonghan froze.
“…What are you talking about?”
“There’s a clause. In her mom’s will. You remember how traditional her family is, right? Her mom added a provision that said Y/n could inherit the hospital—if she was married, as a show of stability.”
“That’s insane,” Jeonghan said, shaking his head. “That’s not—She’s been running that place half her life.”
“I know,” Seungcheol said again, quieter this time. “But with her mom gone, and no spouse to secure her position, her father—who technically still holds a dormant stake—can challenge the board’s vote. And they’ll side with whoever seems more ‘qualified’ to run a multi-billion-won legacy hospital.”
Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat. “So if she’s not married… she loses everything?”
“Exactly.”
The word dropped like a lead weight.
The hospital. Your mother’s legacy. Your life.
All of it—hinging on one outdated clause and a man who was more concerned with reclaiming power than preserving what mattered to his daughter.
Jeonghan’s hands slowly curled into fists at his sides.
He didn’t say it out loud, but the truth was sour in his mouth: He could’ve helped. He’d been asked—hell, handpicked. And he said no.
But those nights… those kisses… the way you trembled in his arms, the way you didn’t pull away—
Maybe it wasn’t just your future that was unraveling.
Maybe it was his, too.
*
Jeonghan heard it first from Seungcheol, in a conversation that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“You helped her send a marriage proposal to the Hong family?” he asked, trying to sound neutral—but the words hitched somewhere between surprise and something less noble.
Seungcheol nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. She’s being practical. The Hongs are powerful, respected, and Jisoo’s around our age. It’s a smart match.”
Jeonghan’s mind flicked back to university days. He remembered Hong Jisoo—gentle voice, crisp suits even back then, the kind of guy professors liked and girls swooned over. Polite, well-mannered, probably the kind of man who’d pull your chair out at dinner and remember your dog’s birthday.
He hated how reasonable it sounded.
Still, he needed to know.
“Is Jisoo even single?” Jeonghan asked, almost too quickly.
Jun, his ever-efficient secretary, looked up from his tablet. “Actually… no, sir. He’s dating someone.”
Jeonghan blinked. “How do you know that?”
Jun cleared his throat, a bit sheepishly. “I saw them at two or three events. He wasn’t exactly subtle.”
Not long after, right on cue, news came that your proposal had been rejected. Politely, but firmly.
Jeonghan didn’t know what stung more—that someone else had the chance to say no to you, or that you’d gone through the process without even telling him.
At your next lunch with him and Seungcheol, you stirred your iced tea with a distracted expression before saying, “I’m moving on to the Jeon family next. Remember Wonwoo?”
Jeonghan’s brows lifted. “Jeon Wonwoo?”
Seungcheol let out a soft whistle. “Now that’s a solid bet. The board practically drools over that guy. Youngest regional director in five years. Clean record, sharp thinker. He could probably get you the hospital single-handedly.”
Jeonghan forced himself to nod, even as something in his stomach tightened.
Wonwoo was perfect.
Too perfect.
A week later, the news broke: Wonwoo was already engaged—privately, quietly, to someone outside the industry. A secret fiancée. One no one had expected, and no one dared question.
Jeonghan said nothing when he heard. Just closed the tab on his screen and leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.
How many more names would you have to cross off?
It was Seungcheol who brought it up over dinner one evening.
“There’s another option,” he said, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of steak. “The Kim family. They reached out.”
You blinked. “Kim? As in…?”
“Kim Jongin,” he confirmed, glancing up. “Their eldest son. The family’s powerful, old money, and still holds shares in three major medical networks. If you marry them, the board will bow down without a fight.”
Jeonghan’s fork paused mid-air.
“Kim Jongin?” he repeated slowly, like the name tasted wrong in his mouth. “As in that Kim Jongin? The one who once got kicked out of a charity gala for flirting with a diplomat’s wife?”
Seungcheol smirked. “That was years ago. He’s cleaned up, mostly. Spends more time in boardrooms than clubs now.”
You raised an eyebrow. “He still flirts with everyone. He sent me flowers once and signed the card as ‘Your Future Headache.’”
Seungcheol, chuckling, muttered under his breath, “At least he’s honest.”
Jeonghan didn’t laugh.
Instead, he leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You can’t be serious. Jongin has more scandals than business articles to his name. You’d be a headline before the wedding cake even sets.”
You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but your voice was quieter. “I’m running out of names, Jeonghan. I don’t need a saint—I need a shield. The board only cares about a surname that scares them.”
Seungcheol nodded grimly. “And the Kim name does that.”
Jeonghan looked at you then—really looked. There was exhaustion behind your smile, a quiet kind of defeat.
How many times have you been rejected, redirected, shut out? How many times had you kept it together just to protect the hospital your mother left behind?
He couldn’t stop you from trying again.
But he hated that you even had to.
That night, Jeonghan poured himself a drink in his living room, alone.
“Kim Jongin,” he muttered bitterly. “Over my dead body.”
*
“Jeonghan just called me. Is that true?”
Seungcheol’s voice crackled through the phone speaker, a strange mix of urgency and disbelief. You barely registered his tone, your mind still half-occupied with the scribbled patient notes in front of you.
You shifted in your seat at the nurse station, eyes still on the clipboard. “What’s true? Did he win the lottery or something?” You let out a soft, tired chuckle. “I mean, honestly, would anyone be shocked if Jeonghan secretly played the odds? He’s... Jeonghan.”
On the other end, Seungcheol sighed. The kind of sigh that wasn’t amused or tired—it was preparing you for something.
“No, Y/n.” His voice lowered. “He told me to turn down the Kim family’s proposal.”
Your pen slipped, leaving a smudge on the paper.
You blinked.
“What?”
The pen rolled out of your fingers and onto the desk with a soft clatter. Your body leaned forward, suddenly too alert. “Why would he—?”
“He said…” Seungcheol hesitated, as though trying to choose the least explosive version of the truth. “Because he’s going to marry you.”
The words didn’t land so much as settle, like the moment before a storm hits—silent, still, choking on meaning.
Your gaze fixed on the wall across the room. White. Blank. Too bright under hospital lights. Somewhere down the hall, a monitor beeped steadily, unaware that your pulse had just doubled.
You didn’t answer. Couldn't. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Your hands, resting on the desk, had gone cold.
And still, Seungcheol didn’t say another word.
He didn’t need to.
“He didn’t say anything to you, did he?” Seungcheol asked quietly.
You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through your hair. “No,” you mumbled, eyes narrowing as you stood from the nurse station chair. “Not a word.”
You could hear Seungcheol curse under his breath on the other end, but you were already pacing down the hallway toward your office, phone still pressed to your ear.
“Is he crazy or something?” you muttered, your voice low and laced with disbelief.
Seungcheol tried to lighten the mood. “Should I bring him to the hospital? Get his head checked?”
You scoffed, pushing open your office door with a bit more force than necessary. “No, you should’ve kicked him in the head instead.”
Dropping your white coat onto the couch, you finally sank into your chair, hand covering your eyes for a second before dropping it with a frustrated sigh.
“He said no, Seungcheol. No. So what the hell is this now?”
Silence hummed between you for a moment. Then, quietly, Seungcheol said, “Maybe he changed his mind.”
You leaned back in your chair, the ceiling suddenly very interesting. “If he did, he sure has a weird way of showing it.”
*
Jeonghan didn’t expect to find you there—not tonight, not like this.
He had barely stepped out of the elevator, keys jingling in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other, when his footsteps slowed. His gaze caught on your figure leaning against the wall by his apartment door. Arms crossed. Eyes unreadable. A stillness about you that unnerved him more than any outburst could.
He swallowed hard. The hallway light flickered above him as if mimicking the beat of his pulse.
“Y/n?” he said, cautious, testing the sound of your name like it might trigger something.
You didn’t answer immediately. You just looked at him like he was something unfamiliar—like you were trying to remember why you'd ever trusted him in the first place.
He approached slowly, key poised at the lock. “Did… Seungcheol tell you?”
Your voice cut through the quiet. “So it’s true?”
Jeonghan winced at the edge in your tone. He gave a small, reluctant nod.
You followed him inside without waiting for an invitation. The slam of the door behind you echoed through the room like thunder—loud, final, impossible to ignore.
You whirled on him. “After all the dramatic no’s, after everything—you just decided yes?”
He set the bag on the kitchen counter with trembling fingers. “I changed my mind.”
You scoffed. “Oh, now that’s convenient.”
He turned to face you, heart crawling up his throat. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Didn’t mean to? You told me you didn’t see me that way, Jeonghan. Your exact words. And now, what—suddenly you do? Right after I get another proposal?”
Jeonghan flinched. “I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t know how to face you after…”
“After those nights?” Your voice cracked on the words, and it gutted him.
He stepped forward, cautious like you might bolt if he got too close. “I know I messed up. I should’ve said something the night it happened. I should’ve said something before you started sending out proposals like you were auctioning off your future.”
“Don’t,” you snapped. “Don’t pretend this is about you protecting me.”
“It’s not,” he said quietly. “It’s all about business. You’re trying to protect your mother’s legacy, right? A marriage of convenience should do exactly that—secure power, eliminate risk. Jongin is a risk.”
You stared at him like you could see straight through the wall he was building with every word. “So you offered yourself instead? What kind of convenient marriage involves someone who told me—explicitly—that he didn’t see me that way?”
The question sliced through the air.
He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles whitening.
“I’m stable,” he said flatly. “I know the hospital. The board respects me. I have no scandals, no secret fiancée, no bad press. We wouldn't have to pretend much, and we’d get the media on our side. You’d be safe. The hospital would be safe. It’s a rational solution.”
But even as he said it, his voice faltered at the end.
You stepped closer now, slow, deliberate. “So this is about logic?”
“Yes,” he lied.
You waited.
He didn’t look up. Couldn’t.
Because the truth had nearly spilled out earlier—I can’t stand the thought of you marrying someone else.
But he buried it. Deep.
Because feelings were messy. And you deserved clarity, not confusion.
So he said nothing more. Just stood there in his perfectly structured silence, hoping you wouldn’t notice the way his heart was hammering under his shirt.
On the next day, Jeonghan sat quietly in the sleek, dim living room of the Yoon estate, the tick of the vintage clock on the wall growing louder with every second of silence.
The dining table remained untouched—no one had the appetite to eat after his announcement.
“I’m going to marry her,” he repeated, tone clipped, businesslike. “It’s not romantic. It’s a business marriage. The hospital stays under her control, and in turn, the Yoon family’s reputation gains an institutional ally.”
His father leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. “You do realize what you're signing up for, don't you?”
Jeonghan kept his chin up. “I do.”
His mother placed her glass down a little too loudly. “That family—her father has scandals trailing him like a shadow. You’ve seen the tabloids, Jeonghan.”
“I’m not marrying her family,” Jeonghan said evenly. “I’m marrying her.”
His younger sister scoffed. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
The tension hit like a sharp wind. Jeonghan could feel the weight of their warnings pressing into his spine.
“She’s… someone I trust. She’s capable. She doesn’t deserve to lose the hospital over a power play. This is the cleanest solution.”
His father shook his head slowly. “You don’t protect people like this, son. Not with your last name. Not with a ring.”
But Jeonghan’s voice didn’t waver. “This isn’t about protection. It’s about business.”
No one believed that—not fully. Especially not him.
Still, they didn’t stop him.
They just let him go.
The very next week, he arrived at the law office early. He had barely slept, but he looked sharp. Tailored blazer, no tie, and his fingers twitching slightly as he waited.
You walked in —expression composed, but Jeonghan knew how to read past that. The subtle tightness in your jaw. The way your eyes darted quickly toward the folder in your hand rather than meeting his.
He stood as you sat. You didn't greet him, just nodded.
Professional.
Just like he’d asked for.
His lawyer spread the documents across the table. “The key terms have been adjusted: one and a half years of legal marriage, public announcement optional, privacy clauses intact. Divorce may be filed on mutual grounds with assets protected under current holdings.”
You read through the text quietly, flipping each page like you’d done this before. Jeonghan watched you instead.
This wasn’t what you’d wanted. Not really. You’d looked for alternatives. You’d begged for options. And when those doors kept closing, you chose the least damaging one. Him.
“I added a clause,” you said, sliding the paper forward. “I’ll retain decision-making rights over hospital board matters. I don’t want you getting dragged into internal politics.”
He blinked. “That’s not necessary.”
“It is,” you said quietly. “You’re already doing enough.”
That silenced him.
Jeonghan leaned back in his chair. This was supposed to be a simple deal, numbers and clauses and black ink—but the air felt heavier than contracts should allow.
You cleared your throat. “You don’t have to—if there’s even a 1% chance you’ll regret this—”
“I’ve already regretted worse,” he cut you off gently. “At least this time, I’m choosing.”
That struck harder than expected.
The lawyer pushed forward two pens. One for you. One for him. When your fingers brushed as you reached out, you didn’t pull away. Neither did he. And for the briefest moment, something unspoken passed between you. Not affection. Not relief. Something quieter. Lonelier. Like two people agreeing to build a house with no intention of living in it.
He watched you sign.
Then he signed, too.
Later that evening, Jeonghan stood by his window, overlooking the city as the skyline blinked softly into the night. A message from Seungcheol sat unread on his phone.
“Are you really going to go through with this?”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he whispered to himself, almost bitterly, “It’s just business.” But his reflection in the window—the tightness around his eyes, the tremble in his hand—betrayed him. He hadn’t lied to you. He wouldn’t hurt you. But what he didn’t say, what he couldn’t say, was this: That part of him didn’t want to protect the hospital.
He wanted to protect you. And now, he was bound to you by paper and law—and silence. Because feelings had no place in business.
Right?
*
The courthouse was stark—walls painted a dull beige, fluorescent lights humming overhead, the faint smell of disinfectant and stale coffee lingering in the air. The atmosphere was anything but celebratory. There were no flowers, no music, no friends or family smiling and whispering behind gloved hands.
You sat rigid in the cold metal chair, hands folded neatly in your lap. Your outfit was businesslike—dark gray trousers and a tailored blazer, practical shoes. Not a stitch of white, no trace of sentimentality. You were here to do one thing: make this marriage legal.
Jeonghan arrived minutes early, his usual composure in place but with an edge of fatigue in his eyes. His black suit hung perfectly on his lean frame, but the absence of a tie made him look less like a groom and more like a reluctant businessman caught in an inconvenient meeting. His jaw was clean-shaven but tight, lips pressed into a thin line.
The clerk barely glanced up as she recited the required lines, voice flat and rehearsed: “Do you, Jeonghan Yoon, take Y/n to be your lawful spouse…” She handed him the pen first, and he signed without hesitation. Then it was your turn. Your hand trembled slightly as you picked up the pen, the sterile atmosphere pressing down like a weight on your chest.
“Congratulations,” the clerk said, but it felt hollow, like an echo in a room already emptied of meaning.
You both nodded curtly, standing side by side as if you’d just closed a deal on a corporate merger rather than pledged to share a life.
Outside, the sky was heavy with thick gray clouds. A cold wind tugged at your coat as you stepped into the parking lot, clutching the envelope of signed documents like a lifeline. Jeonghan was beside you, expression unreadable.
Then, from the corner of the lot, a figure emerged.
Your father.
His suit was tailored but brighter than appropriate, the kind of showy fabric meant to command attention. His smile was thin, practiced—a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes scanned both of you like a chess master sizing up pawns.
“Congratulations,” he said smoothly, voice low but laced with something sharper. “I’m glad to see you’ve finally made the practical choice.”
Your shoulders stiffened imperceptibly, your breath catching for just a moment. Jeonghan’s gaze locked onto your father, cold and measuring.
“I see you’ve gone for political utility over sentiment,” your father continued, glancing at Jeonghan as if daring him to respond. “Smart move. The board will be swayed by this union, no doubt.”
“Don’t,” you said quietly, the word clipped but filled with warning.
Your father ignored you, stepping closer, his tone patronizing. “Now that the marriage is secured, the revised foundation charter is ready. You’ll find the documents waiting in your office.”
You paled, your fingers tightening around the envelope as your lips parted slightly—words trapped somewhere between anger and resignation.
Jeonghan stepped forward, voice steady but sharp. “Is this what this has been about all along? Using your daughter’s marriage as leverage for control?”
Your father’s smile remained unshaken. “Legacy isn’t sentimental, Mr. Yoon. It’s power. And power is survival.”
You didn’t move or meet either man’s eyes, instead staring down at the cracked concrete beneath your feet as if it might swallow you whole.
In that moment, Jeonghan’s posture shifted—his usual calm replaced by a simmering realization. This was no business arrangement for you. This was a battlefield, and you’d been fighting it alone.
He said nothing further, merely opening the car door with an automatic gesture of protection.
You slid inside silently, the door clicking shut behind you.
Jeonghan lingered a heartbeat longer, then followed, closing the door. The car’s interior was dim and silent, the weight of unspoken truths thick between you.
You held the envelope tightly, the crinkling paper sounding unnaturally loud.
Marriage, Jeonghan thought bitterly, should be a choice—not a chain.
He glanced at you, rigid and pale, and knew he had underestimated just how much this ‘business’ was costing you.
Jeonghan found himself in the sleek, glass-walled conference room of his family’s business headquarters a week later. The boardroom was large, with polished oak tables and leather chairs, the kind of place where decisions that shaped industries were made. Around the table sat key members of the hospital board—men and women whose loyalties were divided, some still unsure whether your father’s legal challenge could unsettle the current balance.
Jeonghan sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but authoritative. His sharp eyes scanned the faces before him, reading hesitation, doubt, and the flicker of ambition. With a quiet nod to his personal lawyer beside him, he opened the discussion.
“Thank you for coming on short notice,” he began, voice steady and deliberate. “I understand there has been some concern about the hospital’s future leadership and the potential legal complications following Mrs. Y/n’s recent loss.”
A few board members exchanged cautious glances.
“My wife’s inheritance is tied directly to the hospital’s legacy. It’s a responsibility she takes seriously—not just because of family, but because she believes in the institution’s mission.” He let the words hang for a moment, deliberately invoking a sense of duty and stability.
“But,” he continued, “there’s also the question of the will’s conditions—specifically, the marriage clause. Some have suggested it could be challenged, that your loyalties might shift.”
He reached forward and slid a thick legal dossier across the table, its cover embossed with the family seal. “Our legal team has reviewed every clause meticulously. The marriage between Mrs. Y/n and myself satisfies all stipulated conditions. Any attempt to invalidate this union on legal grounds would be both unfounded and harmful to the hospital’s reputation and stability.”
His tone sharpened slightly, no longer just informative but subtly warning. “We cannot afford the disruption that a public dispute would bring. Investor confidence, donor relations, patient trust—all of these depend on a unified leadership.”
The room was silent for a beat. Then, one elder board member spoke, voice low but firm. “Mr. Jeonghan, your family’s influence is undeniable. We want what’s best for the hospital, but we must ensure governance remains transparent and effective.”
Jeonghan nodded respectfully. “Agreed. Transparency and stability are non-negotiable. That is why my family is prepared to provide the necessary financial and strategic support to secure the hospital’s future.”
He could see the subtle nods around the table. The message was clear: resistance would be costly and futile.
*
Seungcheol stepped into Jeonghan’s apartment, letting the door close behind him with a quiet thud. His eyes scanned the space, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of you curled up on the couch or busy in the kitchen. But the place was quiet—too quiet for a newly married couple.
“She’s got a shift,” Jeonghan said simply, already walking toward the open kitchen. His sleeves were rolled up, and he looked like he hadn’t slept much.
Seungcheol nodded, settling into one of the stools by the counter. “Of course she does.” He watched Jeonghan pour himself a glass of water, the silence thick with unspoken questions. Then he asked, more lightly than he felt, “So… how’s married life?”
Jeonghan paused for a moment, leaning his weight against the counter as he stared at the glass in his hand.
“Strategic,” he said finally, his tone dry.
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow.
Jeonghan sighed. “It’s complicated. The hospital isn’t just some legacy—it’s a battlefield. Her father’s been trying to claw his way back into control using every legal loophole he can find. The marriage? It was the only option left to secure her position before the board meeting.”
Seungcheol let out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”
Jeonghan nodded. “Worse than I thought. The clause her mom put in the will was meant to protect Y/n, but it became a weapon the moment her father figured out how to twist it. I had to act fast. If we hadn’t gotten married when we did, she would’ve lost everything.”
Seungcheol leaned back, arms crossed. “And now you’re both stuck in a business deal wearing rings.”
Jeonghan didn’t respond immediately. He ran a hand through his hair, the exhaustion showing in the lines under his eyes.
“She’s doing everything she can to keep it together. Between the hospital, her shifts, and pretending all of this is fine…”
Seungcheol shook his head, a small frown forming. “Poor wifey.”
Jeonghan smirked faintly at the nickname, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. She didn’t deserve any of this.”
“How about a honeymoon?”
Jeonghan scoffed at the mere mention of the word.
“Honeymoon?” he repeated, half-laughing, half-exhausted. “Yeah, we celebrated with a three-hour strategy meeting and a rushed signature on a marriage certificate. Very romantic.”
Seungcheol chuckled as he opened a can of soda from Jeonghan’s fridge, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Jeonghan slumped into the chair across from him, stretching his legs out beneath the table. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
“I mean, come on,” Seungcheol said, leaning on the counter. “You sign a deal that big—hospital, marriage, family reputation—and you don’t even take my best friend somewhere nice? Italy? Maldives? Hell, even Jeju?”
“She’s working,” Jeonghan muttered, eyes fixed on the floor. “There’s no time for beaches. We’re still cleaning up the legal mess her father left behind.”
Seungcheol’s smile faded. He set down the can and looked at his friend seriously. “Speaking of legal mess—I assigned you an expensive shark of a lawyer. Jung Haejin. She’s the best in estate protection and corporate inheritance. If anyone can outmaneuver her father’s moves, it’s her.”
Jeonghan glanced up, surprised. “You really did that?”
“You’re my best friend,” Seungcheol said, shrugging like it was nothing. “Even if this whole thing started out cold, I know you’re not going to let her fall.”
A silence settled between them—soft, but loaded.
Jeonghan gave a faint nod, running a hand through his hair again. “Thanks, Cheol. I mean it.”
“That’s why,” Seungcheol insisted, leaning forward, eyes gleaming, “plan a honeymoon already! You know how Y/n loves beaches, right?”
Jeonghan raised a brow, caught off guard. “How do you even know that?”
“Please,” Seungcheol scoffed, grabbing a handful of nuts from the bowl on the table. “She used to beg me to take time off and go to Busan during uni breaks. Even dragged me to a travel fair once, just to collect brochures of islands she couldn’t afford to visit yet.”
Jeonghan blinked, his lips tugging into something unreadable. “She never told me that.”
“Of course she didn’t. She probably thinks you’d laugh or roll your eyes.” Seungcheol pointed at him. “But I’m telling you—she’s a beach girl through and through. You want her to breathe? To stop thinking about the hospital for a second? Take her somewhere with sand and waves.”
Jeonghan exhaled slowly, mind already racing with a dozen tabs he’d need to open later—locations, flights, resorts.
“Think of it as strategy,” Seungcheol added, slyly. “A well-rested co-CEO is more effective in a boardroom.”
Jeonghan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smirk forming. “You’re really pushing this.”
“You’re really resisting it,” Seungcheol shot back. “Let her live, Jeonghan. This isn’t just your name or your family legacy on the line anymore. It’s hers too.”
Jeonghan grew quiet, the weight of those words sinking into him. This wasn’t just business—at least not anymore. Not when her hands shook in secret after meetings with lawyers. Not when her shoulders tensed at every call from her father’s associates. Not when she didn’t complain, but her eyes told another story.
Maybe it was time he gave her something she didn’t have to fight for. Even if just for a weekend.
“Alright,” he finally said, grabbing his phone. “Let’s find her a beach.”
*
Jeonghan hadn’t exactly imagined his first honeymoon would come with a third wheel—especially not in the shape of Choi Seungcheol, who was now sprinting barefoot toward the water like a golden retriever let off the leash.
It was supposed to be two days of peace, just the two of you, tucked away in one of his family’s private villas in Busan. A short escape Jeonghan had been desperately looking forward to—a breath of air after months suffocating beneath hospital politics, endless meetings, and legal negotiations. After tirelessly working with the lawyer Seungcheol had assigned, attending back-to-back board meetings, and overseeing the investigation regarding the hospital owner’s misconduct, the decision had finally been made: the board would postpone any changes in ownership for at least two more years. During that time, they would conduct a thorough audit of your father while he served as vice director—buying Jeonghan and you some time, but also keeping everyone under scrutiny.
Still, as he trailed behind you, watching your face light up at the sight of the ocean, your smile wide and childlike as the waves crashed onto the shore, his irritation softened. Almost.
“This is supposed to be a honeymoon, you know,” he muttered, arms crossed, a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance twisting his lips.
You didn’t even look back. “As if that ever stops you from fucking me when he’s around,” you tossed the line over your shoulder so casually it knocked the wind out of him.
Jeonghan stumbled mid-step, coughing on his own breath. “Yah—!”
Too late. You had already taken off, splashing into the shallows with Seungcheol while laughter filled the air.
He sighed, staring out at the two of you like a man who’d just realized he was going to have to fight his way through his own honeymoon. And despite himself, he grinned.
You were going to drive him insane.
And he couldn’t wait.
The three of you lounged in the cozy villa living room, sunk deep into plush cushions after wandering the village in search of a good local restaurant. The salty air still lingered on your skin, and laughter from dinner hadn’t quite faded. But Seungcheol, sitting cross-legged on the rug with a can of beer in hand, was giving you and Jeonghan a look—as if you'd both sprouted unicorn horns right in front of him.
It wasn’t unfounded. Anyone paying close attention would’ve noticed the shift. The way Jeonghan’s arm had draped a little too comfortably around your shoulders on the walk back. The way you leaned into his touch like it was second nature. The subtle glances. The softness in your voice when you said his name. Seungcheol had known the two of you for years—but something was definitely different.
He narrowed his eyes, took a sip of his beer, and asked bluntly, “Are you two secretly dating or something?”
You rolled your eyes and tossed a cushion at him. “We’re married, you idiot.”
Jeonghan chuckled, his fingers brushing yours as if to prove the point.
Seungcheol blinked. “No, I mean like... actually married. Emotionally. This is giving... romance vibes.”
Jeonghan only raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. You stayed quiet this time, eyes locked with your best friend's—because neither of you were ready to admit out loud that Seungcheol might be onto something.
Seungcheol groaned, dragging both hands down his face in exasperation. “God, I knew it! I freaking knew it.”
You blinked at him, amused. “Knew what?”
“That you two—” he gestured between you and Jeonghan like he was pointing out an obvious crime scene, “—have always had something. Even before all this marriage contract nonsense. The way you argued, the way you defended each other, the way you acted like you weren’t each other’s person when everyone could see you were.”
“I hoped I was wrong,” Seungcheol said dramatically. “Because if I’m right, that means I’ve been stuck in the middle of one long, slow-burn, emotionally constipated love story without getting any closure.”
Seungcheol had always known. Jeonghan never said it out loud, but it didn’t take a genius to see it—the way his eyes lingered on you a second too long, the way his tone softened when your name was mentioned in a conversation, the way he’d show up unasked, unnoticed, always around when you needed him most. He didn’t flaunt it. He didn’t make grand gestures. But he had this quiet, steady way of being there, of making it clear he wasn’t just looking out for a friend—he was holding space in his heart for something more.
But you? You had your head buried in textbooks, deadlines, and responsibilities, chasing excellence like it was the only thing that mattered. Love was a luxury, not a priority. At least, that’s what you told yourself.
Until Seungcheol realized you were drifting onto the same ship Jeonghan had been sailing all along.
He called you that night, voice low and serious.
“I know you didn’t want to hurt him… or yourself,” Seungcheol said gently.
On the other end of the line, you hesitated. “I just…”
“I know, Y/n. Trust me. I always knew.”
Silence stretched between you like a string pulled too tight. Seungcheol could almost hear the thoughts racing in your head, the weight of things you’d buried deep finally making their way to the surface.
He sighed softly, his voice filled with something between sympathy and relief. “It finally hits you, right? That you like him. Not just as a friend.”
Still, you didn’t answer.
Then finally, in a voice so quiet it almost broke, you spoke.
“I… I don’t remember when it started, Cheol. But it just… happened.”
And Seungcheol smiled faintly, not because it was funny, but because after all this time, after all the dodged feelings and almost everything, you’d finally said what he always suspected.
“Yeah,” he said. “Love usually does.”
Jeonghan sighed beside you, slouched on the floor across from Seungcheol. He rubbed his face a little too roughly, the frustration clear in the way his fingers dragged down his cheeks.
“What do you want to hear, bro?” he muttered, voice low and exhausted—less from the conversation, more from everything that had been left unsaid for too long.
Seungcheol just shrugged, casual as ever, but his eyes were sharper than his tone. He gestured lazily between you and Jeonghan.
“You figured it out. You guys are adults anyway,” he said, pushing himself off the floor with a grunt. “Took you long enough.”
You glanced at Jeonghan, who stared at the floor with a small shake of his head, as if Seungcheol’s approval or commentary was the least of his concerns—but the pink tint rising to his ears said otherwise.
Seungcheol stretched his back and yawned dramatically. “Anyway, I’m heading to bed early. Got a long drive tomorrow and I really don’t want to get in the way of your honeymoon,” he said, the last word dripping with smug mischief.
He was halfway to his room before he turned back, poking his head around the doorframe with the most shit-eating grin you’d ever seen on his face.
“Oh—” he added, “just make sure to use a condom this time. You didn't last time at my place.”
Jeonghan froze. You stared. The silence in the room was deafening.
“Cheol!” you hissed, a pillow flying in his direction as he cackled and slammed the door shut behind him.
Jeonghan groaned, burying his face into the cushion beside him. “I’m going to kill him. Slowly.”
“Why is he so stupid?” you muttered under your breath, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You both got vasectomies at my hospital. Together.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to wave away the sheer absurdity of the situation—not just the fact that Seungcheol blurted it out like it was nothing, but also that he knew you and Jeonghan had slept together and still had the audacity to tease you about it.
Jeonghan leaned his head back against the couch, sighing like the weight of his entire friendship with Seungcheol was too much to carry.
“That’s why I’m killing him,” he deadpanned, eyes closed as if he were mentally planning the most efficient method to end his best friend.
The laughter eventually faded, replaced by a quiet stillness between you and Jeonghan. The ocean outside whispered against the shore, and somewhere in the villa, Seungcheol had finally shut his door.
Jeonghan sat upright, arms resting on his knees, staring ahead without really seeing anything. You watched his profile, the way his jaw clenched slightly, the weight behind his silence.
Then he spoke, voice quieter than usual. “You know… I never really understood what line I wasn’t supposed to cross.”
You tilted your head, confused. “What do you mean?”
Jeonghan exhaled slowly. “With you. Us. I was your friend, right? That’s how it started. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t start feeling something more, years ago. I just… I didn’t know if it was worth risking the friendship.”
Your heart thudded once, uneven and loud.
“I kept telling myself it was better to just be near you—helping you study, listening to you rant about your professors, showing up to your part-time jobs with coffee.” He smiled faintly at the memory. “It was enough. Or I convinced myself it was.”
You remained still, letting him talk.
“But every time someone came close to you, like seriously close, I’d get... weird.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Petty. Distant. Sometimes too obvious. And I hated it. I hated that part of me. Because I thought friends weren’t supposed to act like that.”
You lowered your eyes, your own emotions swirling quietly.
“When Seungcheol told me you’re about to get involved with the Kim family, something in me just snapped. I couldn’t sit back and watch someone else take you—not for business, not for love, not for anything. So I did something stupid. I played the same game.”
“The marriage,” you said softly.
He nodded. “Yeah. I made it sound like business. And in some ways, maybe it still is. But I wasn’t honest—not with you, not with myself.”
There was another beat of silence before Jeonghan turned to look at you.
“I don’t expect you to feel the same way,” he said, voice steady despite the vulnerability in it. “And I’m not saying this to pressure you into anything. But I needed you to know that this isn’t just about protecting you or your family’s name. It’s you. It’s always been you.”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Jeonghan offered you a small, tired smile.
“I know it’s a lot. We’re already in something messy and complicated. I just... I’d rather you hear the truth from me now than keep pretending I’m okay with being just your business partner.”
The waves outside kept rolling. The tension sat between you, thick and alive. But there was also something else now—something raw, maybe even freeing. Truth always had a way of stirring still waters.
A few seconds passed in silence after Jeonghan’s quiet confession. You could feel the sincerity lingering in the air, like smoke after a fire—thick, lingering, and oddly comforting. The vulnerability in his voice had peeled back a layer you never knew he kept hidden so carefully.
You took a deep breath, eyes still on him, and then—“That’s hot.”
Jeonghan blinked. “What?”
You grinned. “You being honest. It’s kinda hot.”
A slow, incredulous smile spread on his face as his brows lifted. “Wow. I bare my soul and you turn it into thirst content?”
You shrugged, the tension breaking into playful air. “I mean, what do you expect? You were emotionally constipated for years. Seeing you finally say what you feel? Sexy.”
Jeonghan groaned, leaning back against the couch like your words physically wounded him. “This is why I can never have serious moments with you.”
“And yet you married me,” you teased, scooting closer and nudging his knee with yours.
He glanced at you, something softer behind the usual amusement in his eyes. “Yeah. I did.”
You held his gaze a moment longer, before reaching for a throw pillow and gently thwacking him with it. “For a business deal, that is.”
He caught the pillow mid-air and raised a brow. “Sure. Business.”
You leaned in and whispered with mock-seriousness, “Very professional of you, Mr. Yoon.”
Jeonghan narrowed his eyes playfully. “Don’t tempt me to write that into the contract.”
You burst out laughing, and for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel complicated. It felt like the two of you again—just tangled in a bigger, messier story now. But at the center of it, still you and Jeonghan.
Jeonghan’s smile lingered as he nudged your arm, softer this time. “Thanks for not running away.”
You looked at him, warmth blooming behind your ribcage. “Thanks for finally saying it.”
And outside, the waves rolled on under the Busan moonlight. Inside, the silence between you no longer felt heavy—but full of something new, something promising.
*
You approached your mother, who had come all the way to attend your graduation ceremony, her eyes soft with pride. Behind you, Jeonghan and Seungcheol followed respectfully, both dressed sharply for the occasion. As they reached her, the two of them bowed politely.
“There’s Jeonghan and Seungcheol too,” your mother noted with a warm smile, acknowledging them with a slight nod. “Thank you both for supporting Y/n all this time.”
She then turned to you and handed you a bouquet of fresh white lilies and pale pink roses, wrapped in delicate paper. You took them with a small laugh, grateful but slightly embarrassed.
After a few minutes filled with cheerful conversation, light teasing, and a dozen photos with your friends—who had helped you prep tirelessly for this big day—you hugged them goodbye, waving as they left in different directions.
Your mother and you eventually got into the car waiting by the curb. She slid in beside you in the backseat while the driver started the engine. As the campus slowly disappeared behind the tinted windows, she looked over at you, pride still glimmering in her eyes.
“They’re wonderful friends, aren’t they?” she mused aloud. “They’ve been with you since junior high, right?”
You smiled at the thought. “Yeah. Unlike our parents, we weren’t friends for business.” There was a playful sarcasm in your voice, but the humor was clear.
Your mother chuckled, then gave you a sideways glance. “Never caught feelings for one of them?”
Her question made you pause. The teasing lilt in her voice was unmistakable, and she raised a knowing brow when you didn’t respond right away.
“Gotcha!” she said, triumphant.
You groaned. “Not that again! You say this every time you see them. They’re just my friends. There’s a reason we’re still friends after all these years.”
“Alright, alright,” she conceded, holding up her hands with a smirk. “So, I guess Seungcheol’s not your type…”
You wrinkled your nose dramatically. “Ugh, no way!”
She nodded slowly, her grin widening. “So it’s Jeonghan, then.”
“Mom!”
“I see you’re not denying it.”
“Moooom!”
She laughed out loud this time, satisfied with her small victory, while you buried your heated face in the bouquet, wishing you could disappear into the flowers.
*
Seungcheol sat quietly on the couch, the floral scent of rosella tea wafting up with the steam. He sipped it slowly, savoring both the warmth and the familiarity—it was always rosella at your house. Your mother insisted it was the healthiest tea, even if its tartness took getting used to.
“Thanks for taking care of Y/n, Seungcheol,” your mother said as she settled into the armchair across from him. Her voice was calm, laced with something deeper—something quieter than gratitude. “She’s such a handful sometimes.”
Seungcheol chuckled, setting his cup down gently on the saucer. “She’s like a sister to me,” he replied, smiling. “Loud, brilliant, too stubborn for her own good.”
Your mother’s laugh was soft, almost distant. “She gets that from me.”
There was a pause. Not heavy, but deliberate. She leaned back, fingers gently tracing the rim of her own teacup. Her eyes drifted to the window, watching the curtain sway in the light breeze before she spoke again.
“Seungcheol… I haven’t told her yet,” she said quietly. “And I don’t plan to until it’s time.”
He looked up slowly, his expression tightening just a little.
“I’ve been sick,” she said, her eyes finally meeting his. “The kind that doesn’t really go away.”
He didn’t know what to say. His throat caught on something—shock, sorrow, helplessness. The words hovered but didn’t land.
She offered him a small smile, like a mother comforting someone else's child. “Don’t look so heartbroken. I’ve had a good life, Cheol. And she’s strong. Smarter than I ever was.”
“But she needs you,” he whispered, unable to mask the weight in his voice.
“She’ll have you. And Jeonghan. And everything I didn’t know how to give her before.”
He swallowed hard, then nodded. “I’ll take care of her.”
Her smile deepened—not joyful, but full of trust. “I know you will.”
Your mother took a long sip of her tea, her fingers curling around the delicate porcelain as if bracing herself for the truth she was about to voice.
“I knew about my husband's affair,” she said, quietly but firmly. “For years. It was a doctor from the Busan branch. He thought I’d never find out.”
Seungcheol looked at her, surprised but respectful, his silence giving her the space to speak.
“I let it go. Not for him, but for Y/n. I stayed to protect what was mine—what should be hers. But now that I’m sick… I’m afraid the board might push the hospital into his hands once I’m gone.”
She set her cup down gently and folded her hands over her lap. “I want the hospital for Y/n. But she’s definitely not eligible to claim it on her own. Not now.”
Seungcheol leaned forward, slowly understanding where the conversation was going. “She needs an affiliate,” he said.
Your mother nodded solemnly. “She needs to be married. Someone with influence. With a name that can counterbalance her father’s power. And I don’t have anyone in mind other than you or Jeonghan.”
Seungcheol’s jaw twitched slightly, processing her words. “You might see how much I care for her,” he said carefully, “but I promise you—I’ve never seen her in that way. She’s family to me.”
“I know, son,” she said, giving him a soft, grateful look. “And that’s exactly why I trust you. But she’ll need more than love. She’ll need power.”
He stared into his half-empty cup, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Then… the Yoon family is the answer,” he said at last.
Your mother exhaled, as if she had been waiting for him to say it himself.
“Y/n likes Jeonghan,” she blurted, almost too casually.
Seungcheol’s brows lifted, but not with real surprise. He leaned back slightly and let out a quiet scoff, remembering the moment it all became clear. “She told you?” he asked.
Your mother gave a knowing smile.
He smirked faintly, but there was no humor in his eyes—only memory. It was during junior year. You dragged him to the beach after midnight. Said you were celebrating exam week being over. But you had a bottle of cheap soju in your hand, and all you did was cry about how happy Jeonghan seemed with his new girlfriend. Then you said it felt stupid, but every time you saw Jeonghan smiled at someone else, it burned.
He paused, looking down at the tea again.
“She loved him then. Maybe earlier. But she buried it.”
Your mother’s voice softened. “That’s what she does. She tucks things away so deep even she forgets they’re there.”
And in the quiet that followed, with the scent of rosella still lingering and the sun just beginning to sink behind the window, Seungcheol made another silent vow—one that felt heavier than the first.
Years later, Seungcheol smiled from his seat in the front row of the auditorium, dressed in a navy suit that hadn’t changed much from his usual styles—still a little snug at the shoulders. But his eyes? They were glassier now, a mixture of pride and nostalgia pooling in them as he watched you take the podium.
It was the ceremony announcing your appointment as the hospital’s new director. Your mother’s legacy, polished by your perseverance and finally, officially, placed in your hands. You stood tall in a crisp white blazer, your hair swept neatly to the side, your presence commanding. Yet there was a softness to your smile as you glanced at the crowd—at your people. At your family. Your voice rang with the clarity of someone who had long prepared for this day. There wasn’t a stammer, not even when you thanked those who believed in you “when I hadn’t even believed in myself yet.” You looked at Seungcheol, and he simply nodded once, as if to say I told you so.
Beside him, Jeonghan shifted slightly, cradling your firstborn daughter, Sera, against his chest. Her tiny head of dark curls peeked out beneath a miniature headband, her chubby arms reaching forward to grasp the first thing within reach—Seungcheol’s pinky finger. And once she had it, she refused to let go.
“She’s got your grip,” Seungcheol murmured to Jeonghan with a teasing grin, but didn’t try to pull away.
“She’s stubborn,” Jeonghan replied with a proud chuckle, rocking Sera gently in his arms. “Just like her mom.”
Sera gurgled at that, kicking slightly as if she agreed.
The room erupted into applause as you finished your speech, bowing graciously before stepping down. Your eyes scanned the audience once more—first finding Seungcheol, who gave you the softest, proudest smile, then falling on Jeonghan and the little girl in his arms.
You made your way to them slowly, shaking hands, accepting congratulations, until finally you reached them. Sera squealed when she saw you, arms flailing until Jeonghan helped her lean toward you.
“She didn’t let go of my finger the whole time,” Seungcheol said as he gently passed her into your embrace.
You kissed her round cheek and whispered, “She knows her people.”
Jeonghan smiled at you, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “So does her mom.”
"Do you have a plan after this, Uncle Seungcheol?" you asked, your voice high and teasing as you leaned slightly toward him, still bouncing Sera gently in your arms.
Seungcheol blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
You cleared your throat, scrunched your nose a little, then wiggled Sera’s tiny hand like a puppet and baby-talked, "Wanna babysit me~?"
Jeonghan nearly choked on his laughter beside him, covering his mouth as he leaned forward.
Seungcheol stared at the two of you—the smugness on your face and the completely unaware baby now drooling on your shoulder—and groaned dramatically. “Oh no. Not this again.”
“You said you were free,” you chimed sweetly.
“I said I was free for lunch, not free for life,” Seungcheol shot back, though he was already holding out his arms.
Sera squealed the moment he reached for her, latching onto his shirt like a koala. You smirked, triumphant.
Jeonghan patted Seungcheol’s back with mock sympathy. “Congrats on your promotion to part-time nanny.”
“I’m going to file for emotional compensation,” Seungcheol muttered, but he was already swaying gently with Sera in his arms, smiling despite himself.
And just like that, with the hospital behind you and your family by your side, the next chapter didn’t feel so daunting after all.
*
Later that afternoon, with the ceremony wrapped up and congratulations exchanged, you finally found a moment to breathe. Seungcheol had taken Sera to the garden with his girlfriend, Hana, who had instinctively stepped into a rhythm with Sera as if she'd known your daughter forever. You caught a glimpse of the three of them through the large glass windows—Seungcheol holding Sera up high while Hana clapped from the side. Your baby’s laughter echoed faintly through the hallway, and it melted your heart.
“Should we feel guilty?” you asked, sipping from a paper cup of iced coffee as you leaned against the railing of the hospital rooftop.
Jeonghan looked over at you, hair tousled a little by the wind, one hand in his pocket and the other holding your half-eaten sandwich. “For what? Letting Uncle Cheol discover his true purpose in life?”
You snorted, nudging his elbow. “I meant for sneaking off like this.”
He smiled, soft and knowing. “We don’t get many days like this, Y/n. You deserve a moment.”
You let the silence stretch, comfortable and easy. The city buzzed beneath you, the familiar hum of Busan wrapping around the rooftop like a lullaby. You felt his fingers brush against yours, subtle and warm, before he laced them gently together.
“I still remember when we couldn’t even hold hands without making it weird,” you murmured.
Jeonghan tilted his head, amusement tugging at his lips. “You mean when you pretended that sitting on my lap during beach bonfires was totally platonic?”
You laughed, cheeks warming. “That was for warmth! The wind was freezing!”
He pulled you a little closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Sure. Just like how marrying me was only for business.”
You leaned your head on his shoulder, your smile lingering. “Well, if this is business, I guess I signed the best contract of my life.”
Down below, Seungcheol was now lying dramatically on the grass while Sera bounced on his chest, and Hana took a photo with an amused grin. You and Jeonghan watched them in fond silence.
“Do you think we’ll get to do this forever?” you asked softly.
Jeonghan looked at you with eyes that held all the answers. “With you? I hope we never stop.”
Jeonghan picked you up from your office the next day right on time, leaning against the side of his car with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, looking like he stepped out of a magazine but still very much your husband. The sun was dipping low, casting gold along the pavement as you walked toward him, your steps finally relaxing after a long day.
“Where’s Sera?” you asked as you slid into the passenger seat, slipping off your heels with a sigh of relief.
“With my mom. She’s already winning them over with her toddler charm,” he replied with a smile as he started the engine. “So tonight, we get a few hours of just us.”
You glanced at him, curious. “What’s the plan?”
Jeonghan shot you a boyish grin as he turned the wheel. “I planned a dinner. Three-star Michelin. Like your favorite.”
You blinked, eyebrows rising. “Wait, seriously? You got us a reservation there?”
He chuckled. “I pulled a few strings. Remind me to thank Seungkwan later for calling in a favor.”
Your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness, and you reached over to gently rest your hand on his arm. “You didn’t have to go all out. A street cart and you beside me would’ve been enough.”
“I know,” he said, glancing over at you with that soft, slow smile that still made your stomach flip. “But you’ve had a hell of a year. You deserve more than enough.”
Your throat tightened a little at that. Sometimes, Jeonghan’s words slipped past your defenses so easily.
“You’re really good at this, you know?” you murmured.
“At what?”
“At making me fall for you all over again.”
Jeonghan let out a quiet laugh as he reached for your hand and brought it to his lips. “Good. Because I plan to keep doing it for the rest of our lives.”
As the car glided through the streets lit by soft city lights, Jeonghan kept your hand in his, occasionally stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You caught him once, lips tugging into a smug little smile.
“You’re staring,” you teased, turning slightly in your seat to face him.
He didn’t even flinch. “Of course I am. My wife’s glowing after bossing an entire hospital today.”
You laughed, leaning your head on the headrest. “You’re ridiculous.”
He squeezed your hand. “Ridiculously in love.”
You groaned at the cheesiness, but your cheeks warmed. “You sound like Seungcheol’s girlfriend when she drinks too much wine.”
“Then I’m in good company,” he said, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a soft kiss.
The restaurant was everything he promised—romantic, elegant, but still private enough that you felt like it was just the two of you in the world. He helped you with your chair, ordered your favorite dish before you even had to say it, and poured your wine with a flourish like he was auditioning for a drama.
“You’ve really upgraded your husband skills,” you commented, swirling your glass.
Jeonghan winked. “Sera’s been giving me performance reviews. Apparently, I’m doing well.”
You leaned closer over the table, whispering like it was a secret, “You know… if you keep this up, I might just fall harder.”
He mirrored your lean, eyes warm and playful. “That’s the plan. Every day, a little more.”
The rest of the night passed with soft laughs, clinking glasses, shared dessert bites, and the kind of conversation that felt like soul food—filled with dreams, memories, and plans you both had yet to chase.
Later, as you stood by the elevator in your apartment building, he quietly laced his fingers with yours again.
“Want to dance with me?” he asked suddenly.
“Right now?” you blinked.
“Yeah. No music. Just us.”
You laughed, but you let him pull you into his arms anyway. There, under dim hallway lights, Jeonghan swayed with you—no rhythm, no reason, just warmth and love. You let your head fall to his shoulder, giggling as he twirled you softly like you were in a ballroom instead of outside your apartment door.
“I think I’m the luckiest,” you mumbled.
He kissed your temple and whispered back, “No. I am.”
And in that quiet, almost ordinary moment, you knew—this was the kind of love that would last lifetimes.
*
Such nights were a rarity, a treasure tucked away in the chaos of everyday life, when exhaustion didn't weigh you both down, and the demands of parenting didn't siphon the last drops of your energy. Jeonghan was poised above you, the warmth of his skin a comforting contrast against the cool sheets. He drew back from a lingering kiss, his breaths mingling with yours in the dimly lit room. As he entered you with a slow, deliberate rhythm, a moan slipped past your lips, a symphony to his ears that matched the gentle hum of the ceiling fan above. His hips moved with a precision that spoke of intimate knowledge, hitting that perfect cadence that sent shivers spiraling through your body and left your eyes fluttering in bliss. God, how he adored that expression on your face.
“You like it, huh?” he murmured softly, his voice a low, tantalizing whisper as he thrust a little more forcefully, igniting a spark of raw pleasure that danced between you both. His primal instincts stirred, driven wild by the sound of you crying out his name and the intoxicating sensation of your body responding to his. It was a heady mix of addiction and ecstasy, a dangerous concoction that he craved.
“Jeonghan...” you gasped, a desperate plea as he found that elusive sweet spot within you, the one that sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.
“Hm... What is it, baby? You want me there?” he teased, his voice laced with playful mischief, as he deliberately shifted his angle, leaving you yearning, aching for that precise touch once more.
“Please... Jeonghan...” you begged, your voice a breathless whisper, drenched in longing and desire.
He grinned, the kind of devilish, all-too-pretty smile that should have been illegal on such a cherubic face, and pushed your knees wider with his hands. “God, I love you,” he whispered, almost reverent, then buried himself in the rhythm, driving you both toward that singular, shattering point of bliss.
You lost all sense of time or consequence, the room collapsing around the epicenter of your bodies, the tangled sheets and half-open blinds dimly visible through haze. Your fingers clung to his shoulders, blunt nails leaving marks you’d find the next morning. He was unhurried but relentless, the slow, deep surges building in intensity until you could barely remember your own name, let alone worry about the prospect of Seungcheol’s inevitable wrath.
At the moment you broke, shuddering and stifling a cry against the pale slope of his neck, Jeonghan wrapped his arms around you so tightly you were sure you would shatter, right there, under the weight of him and the enormity of what you felt. The world righted itself only after, in the lull where your ragged breaths mingled, and you realized you were delicately cradled, as if he could keep you together with gentle hands alone. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, content to let limbs remain tangled, hearts thundering in asynchronous duet.
Jeonghan was the first to move. He propped himself on one elbow, brushing the hair from your damp forehead, his eyes still swimming in the afterglow. “Are you alive?” he asked, and the laugh that escaped you was small, shaky, but sincere.
“I think so,” you managed, voice thick. “I might need CPR.”
“Please. You always say that,” he teased, rolling onto his side and pressing kisses to your collarbone, the line of your jaw, the tip of your nose.
It was somewhere between a breathless laugh and a whispered “I love you” when the soft cry of your daughter filtered through the baby monitor on the nightstand.
You both froze.
Jeonghan groaned dramatically, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Why is our daughter’s timing so impeccable?”
You giggled, brushing the sweat-matted hair from his forehead. “She’s your daughter. Born to be dramatic.”
He sighed, rolling off you gently and grabbing a shirt from the edge of the bed. “I’ll go. You rest.”
You watched him pull the shirt over his head, the faint moonlight casting a soft glow over the stretch of his back. He still moved like a sleepy prince—even when interrupted mid-magic.
“Tell her she owes us twenty more minutes when she’s a teenager.”
He chuckled, already halfway out the door. “I’ll invoice her.”
You lay back on the pillows, heart still thudding from both the intimacy and the sudden interruption. Through the monitor, you heard the door to Sera’s room creak open, followed by Jeonghan’s soft, sleepy voice.
“Hey, princess... what’s wrong, huh?”
Her tiny sobs grew quieter, replaced by hiccups and his quiet hums—probably the lullaby he made up that never made sense but always calmed her down.
You smiled to yourself, listening to their voices mingle. It wasn’t the ending you had planned for the night, but somehow, it felt even better. Because this was your life now—love, laughter, messy timing, and a little girl who stole both your hearts.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door creaked again. Jeonghan tiptoed in, climbing back under the covers.
“She just wanted a cuddle,” he whispered, slipping his arms around you. “Guess she’s like her mom.”
You chuckled against his chest. “Did you just call me clingy?”
“I said cuddle-loving.” He kissed the top of your head. “But yes.”
You swatted his chest lightly. “I was about to give you the best night of your life.”
He grinned, already pulling you closer. “We’ve got a lifetime of nights. But for now... I’ll take cuddling both my girls.”
And just like that, tangled together in the quiet, you drifted into sleep—interrupted, imperfect, but full of love.
A/N: requested - I would like to thank you all 3 nonies who wanted a jealous! Jeonghan, it gives me an excuse to make him a little rougher, and unhinged, hehe
Synopsis: Jeonghan gets jealous, and he makes it clear who you belong to.
Warnings: mdni 18+, jealous! Jeonghan, possessive! Jeonghan, dirty talk, man handling, dumbification, name calling, kind of public???, choking, fingering, multiple orgasms, jeonghan is big, I swear jeonghan isn't mad at you, he just f*cks you like it, swearing, drooling, squirting, cream pie, etc.
wc: 2.6k
The bathroom is lit by a red glow, causing the small bathroom to be cast in a darker light, an aura of moodiness that seems to aid in Jeonghan’s firm grip on your forearm.
He practically dragged you into the public bathroom of this fancy hotel ballroom, with steam rolling off of him. His jaw was set, his eyes sharp as he guided you away from your boss.
You both were attending your annual work party, and normally, everything would go smoothly. Everything would be perfect. With you both dressed up, mingling with your co-workers, and taking advantage of the open bar your company paid for.
But Jeonghan had his limits. He knew what he was signing up for when he fell in love with you. You turned heads, whether you were aware of it or not; you are gorgeous. And he knew you only had eyes for him. It usually kept his emotions in check; it honestly amused him when men or women thought they had a chance with you. He would watch from across the room when they’d shoot their shot, and he took great enjoyment when their faces would fall as you told them you were taken.
But sometimes, it was rare, there would be one person. Just one, who wouldn’t take the hint. They would continue to flirt, trailing their eyes down your body in appreciation as you politely spoke to them, always seeing the best in people - you really were Jeonghan’s angel. And because of that, you were too nice to realise that would make hard-headed individuals think they could pursue you like you weren’t Jeonghan’s.
But don’t worry, Jeonghan knew how he could change that.
And it’s what he was doing as he shoved you into the bathroom, making sure no one was already inside as he closed the door behind him, locking it shut. “Baby, what’re we doin-” Your words cut off in a gasp as Jeonghan takes the two strides it’s needed to cut the distance between you two. He’s wasting no time in licking his three fingers wet in one hand and using his other hand to bend you over the sink.
“Be good for me and spread those pretty legs,” He grunts, knocking his foot against yours and getting you exactly how he wants you. He easily bunches the dress up to your hips, pulling your panties to the side and smacking your clit with his saliva-coated fingers.
The spank has your entire body jolting, your jaw slacking open as you yelp in surprise. “Jeonghan!” Your eyes are wide in shock as you stare at him through the mirror before you. Your hands grip the bathroom counter, mind spinning as he repeats the action with a sneer.
“Why can’t people understand?” He hisses, and your face flushes as a wave of arousal splashes onto his hands as he rubs your clit meanly. Your body responds to his, and your thighs twitch as you arch prettily for him. “You’re mine.” Your sweet slick coats his fingers, and your head dips as he works your bundle of nerves with short, circled rubs as his other hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you at his mercy.
“What’re you talk- oh fuck, fuh-fuck!” Your words slur, stumbling from your lips as he uses the fingers he played against your clit to slip inside your wet hole. His digits are lean but long, stretching your gummy walls as he enters you roughly. The feeling of him stuffing you makes your eyes flutter, your ass jutting out for him more as your chest presses closer to the cold bathroom countertop. “Hannie!”
“You’re mine. This pussy’s mine. Your body is mine, and your pretty little head is mine.” Each word is accompanied by a thrust of his fingers, a deep curl of his fingertips rubbing the sweet spots he knows are there, and your stomach is fluttering as he growls in frustration in the end. “Don’t people know your pretty pussy is moulded to the shape of my cock? Do you think they just don’t know it’s me who gets you blushing like this?” His eyes are dark, swirling with chaos as he stares you down through the mirror. His fingers got your pussy singing with the music that plays lowly in the background, and he’s smirking condescendingly. “Do I have to mark you so they can get it through their thick skulls? Fuck you full of my cum so they can see it drip down your legs, and they can finally take the hint?”
His words only make your mind melt, a shiver running down your spine as you think about it. Your walls slurp his digits filthily, your arousal splashing and coating his hand down to his wrist as he opens you up. “Please, please-” you feel delirious, the heat warming your body as the small bathroom echoes with the lewd squelches of your pussy happily slurping his fingers.
Jeonghan’s laugh is bewildered and amused, his hand twisting, stretching you as his thumb strokes your clit. “Mm, you like that, huh? Want me to fuck you, dumb - show people how much you love me, my cock, that it’s all me who gets you this wet.” Your hand presses into the mirror, streaking the glass as your hips smack into the countertop. Each deep thrust of Jeonghan’s fingers winds the knot in your stomach tighter, and your whine is high-pitched as you squeeze your eyes closed.
“M’gonna cum, Hannie- m’gonna cum!” You’re crying out, and Jeonghan smirks, not letting up on his rough thrusts, making sure to smack into your sweet spot over and over again.
“Yeah, you gonna cum for me? Make a mess all over my hand and scream my name so everyone on the other side of the door knows who got you creaming this hard?” Jeonghan’s biceps flex, his wrist pumping his digits deeper until your eyes cross. He watches through the mirror as you seize, crying out his name as your orgasm takes over.
Your thighs try to clamp together, but he’s quick to move one of his legs in between and keep you spread open. His eyes watch with a glimmer in them as your pussy convulses around his fingers, your slick gushing onto his hand as you ride his digits through your climax.
Your thighs tremble, and your pretty, puffy clit gets rubbed at each peak to prolong the orgasm. “That’s it, soak my fingers, Pretty.” The squelches of your pussy only make you feel ten times hotter, your blush darkening as he praises you. “Always so pretty when you’re like this, head empty, just letting me make you feel good.”
Nothing prepares you for when Jeonghan moves his hand from your back and wraps it in your hair, pulling your head up as he slips his fingers from your sopping pussy. “Keep those pretty legs open for me, okay? Need you to keep being good for me and take this cock.”
Your drooling cunt throbs in anticipation, and you do as Jeonghan says, your legs quivering as you present your pussy for him. He makes quick work of lowering his black slacks low enough to get his aching cock free. The fingers he used to stuff you are still slicked with your sweet honey, and he uses your arousal to pump his cock with his fist. “Please, Hannie, want you inside - mm, want you so badly.” You sniffle, your eyes watery as he guides the fat tip of his cock through your puffy folds. You're already pushing your hips back to try to get him inside, and yelp when he smacks your ass.
His hand connects with your ass hard enough to leave a handprint. Jeonghan sees it bloom, a contrast to your skin, and he’s quick to smack his hand against your ass again. “Look at you, one little orgasm, and you’re begging for my cock.” He taunts, tapping the bulbous tip of his cock against your glittering clit. The stimulation has you preening, your back arching like a cat as he teases you. “So needy-”
Before you can even try and defend yourself, Jeonghan is feeding you the first few inches of his cock into your sopping pussy. Even with a fresh orgasm, your pussy still has to stretch to accommodate his size. His hips push forward slowly, taking his time to split you open, forcing you to feel every inch slip past the first gummy rings of your wet channel.
You can feel every curve and ridge of the veins that run down his shaft. They snag over areas inside you that you didn’t know existed. It’s a pleasure that tilts your mouth open wider, your head dropping only for Jeonghan to click his tongue on his teeth in a tut. His hand wraps in your hair, pulling your head up to watch him through the mirror as his other hand holds onto your hip. “No, no, don’t go hiding - watch yourself, Pretty. Watch how you take everything I give you.”
Your mouth gapes, inches from the mirror, your breath fogging little pants against the glass as you watch. You watch Jeonghan’s eyes hood, his tongue rolling along his lips, his teeth gritting as his eyes take in the pretty sight of your cunt stretching around his girth. He watches his cock disappear farther into your pussy and holds himself back from slamming the rest of the way in.
You felt so heavy with him sliding inside you. And your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth as you slur your words. “Ah- O-oh, Hannie, you’re in so d-deep.” You hiccup and shudder as he finally bottoms out inside you. His rotund tip smooches against your cervix, a few globs of his pre-cum spilling and filling your gummy walls and practically making your pupils dilate into hearts.
You could cum again just like this. Your slobbering cunt constricts and releases around Jeonghan’s length rapidly, and if Jeonghan reaches around to rub your clit you will cum. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you’re drooling. You can feel your saliva build at the corner of your mouth, and it slips down your lips when Jeonghan lets go of your hair to wrap all five of his long fingers around your throat, arching your back as he rolls his hips with a few shallow thrusts.
His cock swirls inside you, rearranging your guts, digging into your womb from how deep you feel him, and it’s got you releasing the nastiest noises from the back of your throat. You’re so cockdrunk you don’t have the opportunity to warn Jeonghan when you suddenly cum for the second time. Your pussy sucks on his cock while you soak his length with your syrupy slick. Your mouth drops open in a mewl that has Jeonghan cursing, his cock jerking inside your gummy walls as you climax. “Taking me so well, Pretty - making a big mess, huh? Such a slutty pussy getting all slippery wet for me.”
Tears well up in your eyes, and Jeonghan pulls you back onto his cock, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re sobbing at this point, your slick sploshing and dripping down your thighs as he fucks you deep and rough. “It’s too much! I-I can’t- oh, oh!” Your eyes cross, and Jeonghan squeezes your throat to keep you from running away from his cock. His eyes flicker to his left, your phone glowing with a current phone call. He reads the contact name, the reason Jeonghan had dragged you into this bathroom. And he knows that the person on the other end is still listening, hearing everything as he ruins you so thoroughly.
“Yes, yes, you can, Baby.” Jeonghan grunts, and his hips pound into your ass, the noise of skin smacking into skin resonating with the filthy squelches of your cunt. Jeonghan grabs your arm, folding it behind your back as he continues to rut into your sopping pussy. The hand around your throat holds you at Jeonghan’s mercy, and your body betrays you as a familiar heat burns in your lower stomach.
“Jeonghan, ah- ah-” Your mind short-circuits, your eyes gloss over, and Jeonghan’s body fucks you into the bathroom counter until you’re throbbing around his length again. His cock abuses your G-spot like it’s a bullseye and he’s an arrow. The bulbous tip smears pre-cum against your spongey walls heavily with each rut of his hips.
“You gonna cum again?” He lets go of your neck to bring your other arm behind your back, using one hand to keep both of your arms restrained as he slams into you again and again. “Gonna give me one more, jus’ one more, Pretty. Let me see that face you make when you cream on my cock. Show me how good you feel.”
Your moans become more throaty, your stomach sucking in as he pushes you closer to the edge. It builds, bigger and bigger than your previous ones, and you sob as you feel his cock reach deeper inside you.
When Jeonghan wraps an arm around your waist to pinch your clit, you scream. It’s the loudest you’ve ever been, and your entire body shakes as you cum heavily. The orgasm is so powerful this time, you squirt, spraying your arousal onto his hand and the floor with a cry that has Jeonghan’s thrusts stuttering. Your pussy grips his cock so tightly that it’s difficult for him to move and triggers his own orgasm.
“Oh fuck, there we go,” He undulates his hips, grinding his cock as deep as he can as it swells and floods your cunt with his hot, sticky cum. He paints your pussy white, fucking his cum inside you as you take everything he gives with broken whimpers.
And when your head drops, he lets go of your arms, watching them fall limply to your sides as he discreetly ends the call. He makes sure the contact name “My Boss” disappears from your phone screen before he slips his softening cock from your cunt. His cum mixes with yours as it seeps from your puffy folds, dripping down your thighs as Jeonghan helps put your panties back in place and pulls your dress back down.
It actually takes a few moments before you can properly move, and the ringing in your ears subsides. Your brain is all mushy, your makeup a mess that Jeonghan does his best to fix as you lean heavily into him. It’s definitely time to take you home, but Jeonghan isn’t entirely done.
When you’re as presentable as he can get you after pulling three orgasms from you, he brings you back into the party seamlessly. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, enjoying the way your eyes are still glossy like your lips. “Let's say good-bye and then go home, okay?” You make a cute little noise with a nod of your head and let Jeonghan escort you.
Jeonghan sees him before you do. He stands tall, surrounded by people. Jeonghan can see a soft flush on his cheeks that could be mistaken for alcohol, but Jeonghan’s lips pull up into a smirk, knowing better. His dark hair falls to the sides and just touches the top of his ears as he catches Jeonghan and you coming closer.
“Just stopping by,” Jeonghan hums, staring at your boss evenly. He pulls you closer as he says your name, and your boss looks over to your flushed face and hazy eyes as Jeonghan continues to speak. “Feeling a little under the weather, so we’re going to head home.”
Jeonghan is already pulling you away before your boss can respond, but you look over your shoulder to give him one last shy smile, “Thanks for having us. The company party was great, Seungcheol, Sir.”
A/N: I may have had too much fun writing this - hehe okay it's like 4am I prolly made mistakes, but I am sleepy and will figure it out later
As always, comments, kudos, and interaction are appreciated!
cw: slowburn, explicit sexual content, power dynamics, naive reader, coercion, softdom!jeonghan, oral, praise & degradation kink, consent is blurry (MDNI), violence, unprotected sex, just dirty dirty.
a/n: i sat around waiting for someone to upload SOMETHING with this jeonghan content we were so blessed with, but it was nothing but crickets these past few days. this is just me using my english minor for very filthy things ;) also some of yall are probably still waiting on that one yj fanfic huh? :/
w/c: 15.9k
part one | part two
“Do you think this is too much?” you asked, hesitating in front of the mirror.
The words left your mouth softer than you intended, almost tentative. You turned slowly, the silk catching the light as you moved, the kind of fabric that demanded to be noticed.
Black, liquid-smooth, it traced your shape in a way that felt foreign. The back was low, exposing a long stretch of bare skin that made the room feel suddenly cooler.
You tugged lightly at the strap on your shoulder, as if that small adjustment might make it feel less deliberate.
Sohee sat cross-legged on your bed, one leg bouncing in rhythm with the music playing low from her phone. Her vanity spread was impressive—palettes cracked open like a magician’s kit, gold hoops gleaming beside an untouched glass of wine. She didn’t glance up as she dragged her eyeliner into a sharp wing.
“Too much?” she said, as if the question itself offended her. “You look perfect. That dress is what people mean when they say chic.”
There was a hesitance to the way you stood, fingers grazing the edge of the dresser. You turned back to your reflection, uncertain. The room’s soft yellow lamplight glossed over the sheen of your skin, your collarbone, the delicate clasp at the nape of your neck.
Suddenly, Soonyoung’s voice echoed faintly in your memory—teasing, thoughtful, the way he’d said that sometimes confidence is just pretending long enough for it to stick.
Sohee finally looked up, her expression equal parts approval and mischief. “Besides,” she added, “The Eden Below is apparently trying to go ‘upscale chic’ now. No more sticky floors or blinding neon signs. I heard they redid the interior. There’s new lighting, a new sound system, and the works. Mingyu got us a table, remember? He’s celebrating his big promotion, and we’re his trophy friends tonight. So we need to look like we belong in that kinda place.”
You managed a faint laugh. Belonging wasn’t the problem. It was what waited underneath that word; the kind of people who really belonged at a place like The Eden Below.
Because you knew what that name meant, everyone in the city did.
It wasn’t just a club, not really. It sat at the center of the gray zone, that stretch of downtown where the lines between legal and as questionably tolerated blurred like watercolor.
It was where the money went to disappear and reappear, where reputations were quietly exchanged for indulgence, and where the people who moved in those circles pretended they didn’t recognize each other in daylight.
You’d told yourself you were going because of Mingyu and that it was harmless, a night of music, expensive drinks, and a little distraction.
Soonyoung was the one who’d mentioned it first, weeks ago, in that offhand way he said things that somehow stayed with you.
Something about how the club had “changed,” how it was trying to be respectable now and how the light there was “good for faces.” You hadn’t realized until later that you’d memorized the exact phrasing.
And when Sohee told you that’s where Mingyu was hosting, your pulse had flickered once, quick and sharp.
You turned toward her, trying not to fidget with the thin strap at your shoulder. “I just… don’t know if it’s me,” you admitted quietly.
Sohee rolled her eyes affectionately. “You say that every time we go anywhere that doesn’t serve chicken strips. Trust me, you’ll be fine. We’ll drink, we’ll toast to Mingyu’s big fancy new title, and we’ll leave before anyone gets weird. Easy.”
You exhaled slowly, smoothing your palms down the front of your dress. The fabric slid beneath your touch like water.
“This will be good for me,” you murmured, as if saying it aloud could make it true.
But the reflection on the mirror didn’t look convinced.
—
By the time you and Sohee finally stepped out of the cab, the city had shifted into its nighttime version of itself. Sharp-edged and shimmering, the air thrumming faintly with sound.
The Eden Below didn’t announce itself. There was no sign, no glowing letters or line spilling onto the sidewalk. Just a single black door recessed under the faded awning of what looked like a shuttered bookstore.
If you didn’t know what to look for, you’d walk right past it, hence why they were probably able to get away with their past alleged “crimes”.
Sohee handed her phone to the doorman like she’d done this before, name already on the list, her lipstick perfect even in the dim light.
He gave her a once-over that hovered just between respect and curiosity before stepping aside.
“See?” she murmured as you followed her in. “Easy.”
Inside, a narrow staircase led down, soft lighting tracing the steps, the faint scent of perfume and polished wood mixing with something deeper, much darker.
The air changed the further you went. It was warmer combined with humming of the low bass that seemed to vibrate through the walls.
You hesitated near the bottom, your hand grazing the smooth railing. You could feel the rhythm of the place before you saw it. It had a slow, seductive pulse to it.
And then you stepped into The Eden Below.
The room unfolded around you in layers of gold and shadow. Velvet booths curved like secrets along the walls, candles flickered behind tinted glass, and the floor glowed faintly from beneath translucent panels.
A chandelier hung low over the center of the room, its light fractured through dozens of tiny crystal teardrops
People looked beautiful here. Their laughter slid across the room, smooth and practiced.
Sohee’s hand brushed your arm, a light, grounding touch. “Our table’s over there,” she said, nodding toward a sunken lounge near the back.
Mingyu was already there, half-turned in conversation with someone you didn’t recognize. He spotted you and grinned; warm, easy, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to look deliberate. “Finally,” he said, raising his glass. “Was starting to think you two changed your minds.”
Sohee laughed and leaned in to hug him, already at ease. You smiled and slid into the seat beside her. The couch sank under you, plush and soft. Mingyu poured you a drink before you could refuse, the glass cold against your palm.
“So,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the room, “what do you think? Nice upgrade, right? No more grime, no more mystery stains.”
“It’s…different,” you nodded, trying not to stare. The light caught on everything. The glass, fabric, skin—so that the whole room seemed to shimmer slightly, as if underwater.
You blinked, forcing your gaze back to the table, to the safe blur of movement and laughter. Sohee was mid-story, gesturing with her glass as Mingyu laughed, the sound bright and too loud against the low hum of the music.
You smiled when she looked your way, though your fingers were still curled too tightly around your drink.
“God, you’re stiff,” she said, squinting at you. “You look like we’re holding you hostage.” She snickered.
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, offering what you hoped passed for casual. “Just taking it in.”
Sohee’s grin turned wicked. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I know you’re overthinking it.”
“Drink first,” she said, threading her hand through yours and tugging you toward the bar. “Confidence later.”
The bar stretched the length of one wall, its dark wood complemented by mirrored shelves that glinted with gold-trimmed bottles. The man behind it was tall and clean-cut, with sleeves rolled high enough to reveal faint ink along his arms. He looked up as you approached.
“What’ll it be?” he asked, voice low and smooth, practiced.
Sohee leaned forward, confident, flirtatious in the way you never quite managed. “Something pretty and dangerous,” she said. “Dealer’s choice.”
The man smiled faintly, a flash of something you couldn’t read, and started mixing without a word. His movements were hypnotic—fluid, exact, the rhythm of someone who’d been doing this for years.
When he finally slid two glasses across the counter, they shimmered faintly under the gold light, translucent with a twist of something crystalline floating near the bottom.
“First round’s free,” he said, eyes flicking briefly between you and Sohee.
“Oh?” Sohee grinned. “And what did we do to deserve that?”
“Courtesy of the house,” he said simply, but his gaze didn’t linger on her. It found you.
You didn’t know why you noticed the difference, the half-second too long before he looked away, the slight dip of his chin as if in acknowledgment. Something in his expression shifted, so small it might’ve been imagined.
And then, as he turned to the next order, his hand brushed the edge of the counter.
It was a small, subtle motion, like a signal meant for someone else. But you followed it instinctively.
Across the room, past the haze of low light and the sea of dancing bodies, someone sat at the top end of the mezzanine. You couldn’t see much however, just the outline: dark hair, black suit, and the gleam of a watch catching the light.
He wasn’t talking nor was he drinking, but just sitting. Watching.
You tore your gaze away when you heard Sohee speak, forcing a polite smile toward her instead.
“To Mingyu’s big night,” she said, raising her glass. “Promotion, success, and all that fake adulthood nonsense.”
You clinked her glass, your own hand trembling faintly against the cool surface. The drink was deceptively light, something citrusy, with a sharpness that bloomed slowly down your throat. It tasted like heat disguised as sweetness.
Sohee was saying something you didn’t catch. Her voice cut through the sound like sunlight breaking through fog.
“Still?” she said, setting her drink down. You gave her a look. “You’ve been tense since we walked in. Come on, we’re fixing that.”
“Fixing what?”
“Your hearing issue. Your love life. Take your pick.” Before you could reply, she was tugging you toward the dance floor, laughter spilling behind her like perfume.
The music hit harder out here, low, pulsing, the kind of bass that sank straight into your chest. Lights swept through the haze, soft gold and red, catching on sequins, jewelry, and the gleam of bare shoulders. You could smell perfume, champagne, something faintly smoky that wasn’t quite tobacco.
Sohee laughed as she spun you toward the center, her hair brushing your arm. “See? It’s not that serious,” she said over the music.
You nodded, though your movements felt uncertain. It wasn’t awkward, exactly, just careful. The air was hot and electric. You could feel the rhythm in your spine, the way your pulse tried to match up with it.
Sohee moved with easy confidence, the kind of rhythm that turned heads. She grinned when she caught you watching her, then grabbed your hands and pulled you closer, forcing you to move with her. It was impossible not to.
The crowd pressed in on all sides, everyone moving in slow, deliberate waves. Your body started to respond before your mind caught up—a tilt of the hips, a sway of the shoulders.
For a fleeting second, you let go. You forgot the table, the glances, even the way your dress clung a little too close. You let the music take you, eyes closed, just long enough to feel the weight of it dissolve.
When you opened them again, the room looked different.
Blurry edges. Shadows shifting. The faint glimmer of someone watching from the mezzanine that you couldn’t quite place. You looked away quickly, breath catching in your throat.
Sohee leaned in, her lips brushing your ear as she shouted over the music, “There she is! I knew you had it in you!”
You laughed until your throat ached, until the sound blurred into the music. The lights moved faster now. Sharp beams slicing through the haze, gold fading into a smoky blue.
Sohee threw her arms up, laughing with her head tipped back, and for a brief moment, you thought maybe you could match her ease. Maybe if you moved enough, thought less, you’d stop feeling that quiet hum beneath your ribs.
The song changed. The bass softened, grew heavier. That’s when you realized how warm it was.
Your skin felt slick against the silk of your dress, hair sticking faintly to your neck. You raised a hand in surrender, shaking your head when Sohee tried to twirl you again. “I need water,” you mouthed, though your voice barely carried.
Sohee waved you off with a knowing grin and spun back toward the center of the floor, her body already disappearing into the movement of the crowd.
You turned and began to push your way through the press of people. Each step felt like a climb, the air dense and sweet but something else; smoke, maybe, or the faint bite of expensive liquor.
Someone brushed against your arm, another passed close enough that you caught the cold flash of their watch against your skin.
By the time you reached the bar, your heartbeat had settled into a strange rhythm—faster than it should’ve been, but not from dancing. You pressed your palms against the cool wood of the counter, exhaling slowly.
The bartender looked up the moment you did. As if he’d been waiting.
“Another?” he asked.
You hesitated. “Just water.”
His brows lifted slightly, but he nodded, turning toward the back shelf. His movements were slower this time. No performance, but just quiet efficiency. When he returned, he placed a tall glass in front of you. Condensation beaded down its sides, pooling where your fingers rested against the counter.
“Courtesy of the house,” he said again, tone almost identical to before.
You looked at the drink, then at him. “That’s twice now,” you said, half-joking. “Do you just… like giving things away?”
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Only to certain guests.” He said it simply, with a faint tilt of his mouth that wasn’t quite a smile.
Then he looked past you briefly, almost imperceptibly, and nodded to someone deeper in the room.
The urge rose sharply in your chest, an instinct to look, to see who was being signaled to, but you anchored your eyes on the water instead.
“Right,” you said, the word small in your mouth. “Well. Tell the house thank you, I guess.”
You took a slow sip.
You stared into your drink and watched the ice shift under the light, catching reflections from somewhere you couldn’t trace. The mirrors on the far wall threw the room back at itself, layered in gold and red and smoke.
For a second, you thought you saw movement on the mezzanine again—a shadow shifting against the railing, but when you blinked, it was gone.
The music swelled again, louder this time. A different song. You let yourself focus on the bass, the pulse, the comfortable distance of it. Anything but the pull at the edge of your awareness.
Sohee appeared suddenly beside you, flushed and radiant, her hair damp from the heat. “You disappeared on me,” she said, half-laughing, half-breathless. “Are you hydrating like a responsible adult?”
“Something like that,” you said, setting the glass down.
“Good,” she said, flagging the bartender for another round. “Mingyu’s calling us over, says he wants a photo. Come on.”
You smiled faintly, following her back toward the table. But as you walked, you caught your reflection in one of the mirrors again, your face pale under the warm light, eyes too wide, the crowd moving behind you like a tide you couldn’t quite keep up with.
And somewhere in the blur, just behind your shoulder, you thought you saw a figure pause mid-step.
Looking straight at you.
You blinked. Gone.
You shook off the feeling, forcing a breath through your chest.
It’s nothing.
You’d say it again later. You’d say it until you almost believed it.
—
Mingyu’s laugh reached you before you saw him. He was leaning back in the booth, one arm draped across the top, his tie loosened and eyes bright with the kind of tipsy ease only he could pull off. Sohee slid in beside him with a theatrical sigh, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“There she is,” Mingyu said when you appeared. “Thought we’d lost you to the dance floor gods.”
“Hydration break,” you said, trying for lightness as you eased into the seat across from them. The leather was warm from the last body that had occupied it.
Sohee elbowed him. “She’s been letting loose all night. It’s her thing now.”
You smiled faintly. The music here was muted compared to the floor, cushioned by velvet and the low thrum of bass filtering through the walls. For the first time all evening, you could hear your own breathing.
By the time you turned, Sohee was already calling your name over her shoulder, weaving back toward Mingyu’s table with a laugh.
Mingyu raised his glass. “To our youth!” he said.
You clinked, because that’s what people did, and let the laughter roll over you like a tide you didn’t have to stand against. The light here was softer, gold fading to amber, shadows collecting in corners.
It should’ve been comfortable. Safe, even. But then the waiter appeared again.
You hadn’t seen him approach. A slim figure in black, expression polite, posture too still. Without a word, he set down a small silver dish in the center of the table—a pair of lemon twists and a folded napkin.
Mingyu grinned. “Man, they’re really on it tonight.”
Sohee reached for a lemon slice, unconcerned. “Perks of y/nnie looking so good tonight~.” She jokes.
The waiter’s gaze flicked toward you once, brief but deliberate, before he stepped away.
Your stomach tightened, though you couldn’t say why. The napkin looked ordinary enough, folded cleanly in half. A faint watermark of the club’s insignia, an embossed serpent coiled through a ring, was pressed into the corner.
You brushed your thumb across it without thinking.
Sohee’s voice cut through your thoughts. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you said quickly, sliding the napkin aside. “Long day.”
Mingyu smiled, his tone easy. “Then drink. That’s the cure for everything.”
So you did. You let them talk about work, about promotions, about people you didn’t know, and you laughed when you were supposed to.
Still, every few minutes, your eyes drifted toward the bar. The bartender was there again, cleaning a glass, his head tilted slightly as if listening to something only he could hear.
Then they shifted to the corner of your vision, up on the mezzanine. You told yourself not to look.
And for the rest of the night, you played along well.
—
The night had dissolved into something soft around the edges.
You couldn’t tell if it was the drinks or the light or the way Mingyu’s laughter kept finding you through the music, but the table had started to tilt.
Not literally, but just enough that everything shimmered slightly out of focus. Sohee kept refilling your glass each time you looked away. When you looked at her with worry on eyes, she only winked.
The last thing you remembered clearly was Mingyu saying something about “real champagne,” the sound of bubbles fizzing in crystal, and then laughter, too bright, too close.
At some point, you pushed your chair back. “I’m gonna—uh, bathroom,” you murmured, the words sticking in your throat like cotton.
Neither of them noticed. Sohee was already bent close to Mingyu, yelling something into his ear over the music, her bracelets catching the light as she gestured. You blinked hard, trying to orient yourself, but the floor beneath you seemed to move with the music, pulsing gently as if the whole club breathed in rhythm.
The hallway you found was dimmer and colder. A thin strip of light ran along the baseboards, guiding you through the narrow space like a runway.
The bass from the main room dulled here, replaced by the hush of ventilation and the faint, mechanical hum of something hidden behind the walls.
You thought you’d find a sign. A small plaque. A door with a mirror or a brass handle. Anything that said restroom.
There was nothing.
You passed three doors, all unmarked. The first was locked. The second creaked open an inch, revealing only darkness and the faint scent of cleaning supplies. The third led to what looked lik a storage room, a few crates stacked neatly, bottles gleaming in the low light.
You laughed to yourself, quietly, pressing a hand against the wall to steady your head. “Of course,” you whispered, the word lost to the hum.
Then you saw it.
A sliver of light leaked through the gap of a door left barely ajar. Warm, golden light, softer than anything out here.
You pushed.
The hinges gave way with a muted creak, and for a moment, you thought you’d found it. But the light wasn’t fluorescent, and the smell wasn’t antiseptic.
You blinked, adjusting.
This wasn’t a bathroom.
It was a private room.
A long, low-lit room, lined with dark wood and velvet. A round table dominated the center, covered in cards, cigarette ash, scattered chips of ivory, and gold. There were men seated around it, their suits perfectly pressed, their watches gleaming under the light.
The air was thick with cigar smoke and the faint, humming sound of conversation that stopped the instant you appeared.
You froze, one hand still on the door. They turned toward you, one by one.
You tried to speak, but your throat had gone dry. You opened your mouth and then stumbled.
Your heel caught on the threshold, sending a sharp sound echoing off the wood. Every head tilted your way. A card slipped from someone’s fingers and landed face down on the table.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then the man nearest to you spoke. “You’re lost.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but factual.
“I—” you stammered. “Sorry, I thought—, I was trying to find the—”
“The restroom,” he finished for you, amusement barely curving his mouth. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. “Not this door.”
“No,” you said, shaking your head too quickly. “Clearly not. I—I must’ve taken a wrong—”
You turned to leave, relief already rising in your chest, but you didn’t make it.
Two men stood just outside the doorway. You hadn’t noticed them appear behind you. Their suits matched the rest, dark and tailored, their expressions unreadable. You nearly collided with one of them, your shoulder catching against his arm.
“Leaving so soon?”
The voice came from inside the room; smooth, unhurried, and warmer than it should’ve been.
You froze.
From your place in the doorway, you couldn’t see him at first, only the faint curl of smoke drifting upward, the edge of a chair turning slightly in your direction. Then he leaned forward into the light.
Dark hair. White shirt, open at the collar. The faintest smile tugged at his mouth as he studied you. You hovered in the doorway, half-dizzy from the wrong turn, the wrong room, the wrong kind of eyes on you.
Every man at that table had turned when you walked in. Their stares were just lingering, curious in the way predators studied movement. You could feel it across your skin, that mix of appraisal and something darker. The dress you knew was immodest suddenly felt thin.
The man hadn’t said anything more. Not until one of the men at his right let out a low whistle and murmured something under his breath. A joke, probably. You didn’t catch it, but the sound of it prickled heat along your neck.
Then he looked up.
He didn’t say a thing. The smile that had been ghosting at his mouth vanished. His gaze cut across the table, landing on each of them in turn. The laughter that had been starting up died instantly.
“Something funny?” he asked. Someone coughed. Another shifted his cards like he’d suddenly forgotten how to hold them.
The man who’d laughed froze. His lips parted like he wanted to explain, but no words came out. The rest of the table looked down instantly—at their cards, their drinks, anywhere but at you.
The shift was immediate, his smile gone, eyes hard, sharp as a blade turned flat against the table. The air changed. Even the man who’d laughed straightened, his mouth shutting mid-word.
He leaned back in his chair, calmly. The smoke rose lazily in front of him, turning his profile into something carved from shadow. “Eyes on your hands,” he said softly.
Then, only after a long pause, his attention slid back to you. The edges softened again, but only for you.
“Come join us,” he said but it wasn’t an invitation. Your pulse stuttered once, hard.
“I—um—sorry, I really shouldn’t—”
He tilted his head, amused. “It would be rude to walk into a game and not play, don’t you think?”
A few of the men chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing. You stood there, caught between the open door and the waiting room.
You swallowed hard. “I don’t even know the rules.”
He smiled fully then, slow and deliberate. “That’s all right,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m very good at teaching.”
You hovered in the doorway, fingers tightening around the frame as if the wood could steady you.
Every sound from the club beyond the walls had vanished though your heartbeat seemed too loud. The men at the table didn’t move.
They watched you with polite indifference, the kind of stillness that made it hard to tell if you were in danger or simply out of place. And the man half-turned toward you, looked utterly at ease.
His sleeves were rolled, a single playing card balanced loosely between his fingers. The faintest curl of smoke rose from the cigar beside him. He gestured lazily to the chair across from his.
“Sit.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Your pulse fluttered against your throat, a nervous tremor. “I—I shouldn’t. I just got lost.”
He tilted his head, studying you. “You found something better.”
He smiled. Small but genuine enough to confuse you. “You’ll feel less embarrassed if you sit. Trust me.”
You didn’t know why, but you listened.
The chair was heavier than it looked. You slid into it slowly, eyes fixed on the cards scattered across the table. The designs weren’t familiar. They were black and ivory instead of red and white, strange symbols where numbers should be.
Someone to the man’s right leaned forward and gathered the cards into a neat pile, shuffling with quiet precision. The sound of the paper against his fingers was soft but rhythmic, like breathing.
The man poured something into a crystal glass and set it in front of you. “Here. You look like you need it.”
Your pulse thudded once, heavy. “I really shouldn’t. I was just—”
“Lost,” he finished for you, smiling faintly. “You said that already.”
“What’s your name?”
You gave it before you could think twice, and he nodded as if he’d expected it.
“Han,” he said in return, offering his hand.
You blinked, surprised by the simplicity. “Just Han?”
His mouth curved. “For now.”
A small ripple of laughter circled the table. The men’s amusement wasn’t directed at you so much as shared among themselves, like an inside joke they didn’t need to explain.
You didn’t know why they found it funny, but your pulse was still off-beat. His hand was warm when you shook it, the contact brief but enough to make your skin feel too aware of itself.
He slid the amber liquid toward you once again. “Here,” he said. “To making new friends by accident.”
You hesitated. “I shouldn’t….”
“Drink,” he said, gently. Not a command but just a word that carried weight.
You did.
It was smoother than anything you’d had prior. Warm, smoky, slightly sweet.
He watched you over the rim of his own glass. “Better?”
You nodded, not trusting your voice. He reached forward, tapping the deck at the center of the table. “Pick one.”
You hesitated. “I don’t know how to play.”
“That’s all right,” he said. “It’s not really about the rules.”
You drew a card, fingertips trembling just slightly. The design wasn’t like any deck you’d seen. Black ink, gold edges, a serpent coiled through a ring.
You looked up. “What does it mean?”
Han’s eyes found yours. “It means the game’s already started.”
The men around the table chuckled again, the sound blending with the faint scrape of a chair being pulled back. Han gestured lazily toward the cards in front of him. “Luck,” he said. “Or misdirection. They’re cousins.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his tone dipping quieter. “The thing about luck is—it doesn’t just change what you win. It changes who you are while you’re winning.”
The air in the room seemed to tilt. You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the way he said it, but the words settled under your skin like warmth and warning at once.
You set the card down slowly. “I think I should—”
“Go?” His mouth curved faintly, the barest hint of amusement.
“—find my friends,” you finished lamely. He didn’t stop you, letting the silence draw out long enough for your nerves to start showing. Then, as you started to rise, he spoke again.
“You and your friends,” he said, so casually it almost didn’t sound like a shift. “You liked the drinks?”
You paused, halfway to your feet. “The drinks?”
“The ones that came to your table that night. Complimentary, if I recall.” His tone was even, his eyes sharp. “Pink…sweet—a little dangerous. Did you like it?”
You stared at him. “You—you sent those?”
He smiled then, slow and deliberate. “Of course.”
“I thought—” You blinked rapidly, fumbling with your bag. “Oh…Then, I should pay you back.”
“No need.” The word cut across the table softly.
You froze, fingers still curled around your wallet. “But—”
He tilted his head, eyes never leaving you. “If I wanted your money, sweetheart, I’d have taken it already.”
You swallowed. “Then why?”
“Because you looked like you needed something nice,” he said, his voice low, the faintest glint of amusement threading through. “And because I could.”
The way he said it made your skin prickle. He wasn’t boasting; he was just stating a fact, one that held too much truth to laugh off.
You tried to smile, to bring the tension back to something you could control. “You really shouldn’t give things away for free.”
“Who said it was free?”
That stopped you. The light flickered faintly against his features, catching the line of his jaw, the gleam of the ring on his finger as he lifted his glass again.
The faintest smile touched his mouth, but his eyes didn’t move from you.
“The restroom’s two doors to the right.”
You blinked, startled. “You knew—”
“I should hope so,” he said, rising smoothly to his feet. “I own the place.”
The room fell silent again, except for the faint slide of his glass as he picked it up. He raised it slightly in your direction, eyes glinting in the low light.
You turned, relief pressing like air against your back. The two men by the door stepped aside as you passed, silent, polite.
But just as you reached the threshold, Han spoke again. “Oh,” he said, his voice cutting lightly through the quiet, “and take your card.”
You glanced back. The serpent card sat alone in front of your empty chair.
He smiled when your eyes met his. “For luck.”
You hesitated only a second before slipping it into your hand, the paper warm from where it had rested. “...Thank you.”
He inclined his head. “Enjoy the rest of your night, sweetheart.”
When the door clicked shut behind you, the hallway felt colder. The bass from the club returned, thudding faintly through the floorboards. You leaned against the wall, breathing until the dizziness faded.
You told yourself it was nothing. A strange moment. Nothing more.
Still, when you looked down at the card, the ink shimmered faintly under the light as if it were alive.
—
Morning came in pieces.
Light filtered through the blinds in thin, uneven strips that painted the sheets gold and gray.
Your head throbbed, a low, pulsing ache that made you groan and bury your face deeper into the pillow. Somewhere in your apartment, Sohee’s phone alarm buzzed, got silenced, and buzzed again.
You opened your eyes slowly, the ceiling above you unfamiliar for a second. Then memory began to drift back in fragments. The music, the heat of the dance floor, the laughter that blurred into static. The smell of smoke. A deck of cards.
You exhaled, rubbing a hand over your face. “God,” you whispered. “What the hell happened last night?”
You sat up carefully, the blanket sliding down your bare shoulders, the faint imprint of your dress strap still pressed into your skin. Your clothes from the night before were draped over the chair.
Black silk tangled with the shimmer of Sohee’s sequined top, both glinting faintly in the weak morning light.
You reached for your phone. Three missed calls from your coworker. One from Sohee. A photo in your messages: you and her at the table, both grinning too wide, Mingyu and Soonyoung half-blurred in the background. Beneath it, Sohee’s text:
you disappeared for like twenty minutes btw?? where’d u go??
You stared at the message a moment too long before locking the screen.
The apartment smelled like coffee and bread. Sohee emerged from the kitchen a moment later, wearing one of your shirts as a makeshift robe. Her eyeliner was smudged, but her energy was somehow intact. “You alive?”
“Barely.”
“Water’s on the counter. You were gone forever last night. Thought you met someone.”
“I—” You hesitated. “I got lost.”
Sohee snorted. “In a straight hallway?”
“Yeah,” you said, forcing a small laugh. “Guess so.”
She didn’t notice the strain in your voice, already scrolling through her phone again. “Everyone went to after-hours at the rooftop, but you ghosted.”
You nodded absently, sipping the water. It was warm now, flat, but it helped.
You turned your gaze to your purse on the table, half-open and spilling with receipts and lipstick. Something small and pale gold peeked out from the side.
Your heart skipped.
“Hey,” Sohee said suddenly, pulling you back. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You nodded. “Just tired,” you said. “Didn’t sleep much.”
Sohee shrugged. “Same. Next time we’re staying sober enough to remember where the bathrooms are.”
You smiled faintly as she moved to the couch, humming absently, your gaze drifted back to the purse. The faint shimmer of gold at the card’s edge seemed to catch the morning light perfectly.
You thought of his voice then, smooth, low, unhurried. Come join us. And the way he’d said his name.
Han.
Just Han.
You didn’t know why that felt like a lie.
--
By midmorning, the bell above the door had rung at least a dozen times. You barely looked up anymore when someone entered. The regulars always came early.
The office workers who bought coffee and croissants in twos, and the old woman from the flower shop down the block, who liked to talk about her grandchildren.
You were wiping flour from your hands when you noticed him.
Just a man, or so you thought. Mid-thirties, neat gray coat, a newspaper tucked under one arm. His smile was polite, distant. He ordered a black coffee and a slice of brioche, thanked you softly, and sat by the window.
Something about him tugged at your attention anyway. Maybe it was the way he never looked at his phone. Maybe it was how his coat looked, just a bit too formal for a Sunday morning.
You tried not to think about it.
When the rush finally thinned, you stepped into the back to check the oven timers.
By the time you returned to the front, his table was empty. His cup was half-finished, the crumbs scattered neatly on the plate, as if he’d tidied them before leaving.
A card.
It sat precisely where his hand would have rested, its pale surface catching the light. You frowned, glancing toward the door, but he was gone.
You picked it up, meaning to tuck it aside for when he came back. “Sir—?” you called halfheartedly, but the bell above the door didn’t ring.
Your breath caught. The paper was identical to the one you saw in your purse after the night at Eden Below, same embossed serpent curling through a ring, same faint scent of smoke.
You turned it over.
The Eden Below requests your company. Dinner. Friday. 9 PM.
The date was a few days from now.
Your first instinct was to laugh. Because it was absurd. Because maybe this was a prank. Because maybe you were overreacting.
You pulled the trash bin under the counter and threw the card away.
Customers came and went. You smiled, served, and rang up orders. The rhythm of the day carried you along, steady, ordinary.
But every time the bell above the door chimed, your head snapped up too quickly.
--
The next day was too bright for how heavy you felt.
You met Mina from the shop next door for brunch. She ran a small stationery store and had a way of talking that filled the quiet before it could turn uncomfortable.
The two of you sat by the window of a small café two streets over, trays between you, the smell of espresso and buttered bread soft in the air.
“Busy morning?” she asked, stirring sugar into her coffee.
You nodded, smiling faintly. “Same as usual.”
Mina grinned. “Same as usual for you means half the neighborhood showing up for croissants.”
You laughed, the sound lighter than you felt.
The hum of the city outside made the whole moment feel almost normal.
Almost.
Halfway through lunch, Mina excused herself to take a call, leaving her coat draped over the back of the chair. You leaned back, savoring the rare pause in conversation, watching the way sunlight slid across the table.
That’s when you noticed it.
A card.
It sat on the edge of Mina’s side of the table, half-tucked beneath her coffee cup. You frowned, leaning closer. The same faint embossing at the corner.
Your pulse jumped. You reached for it slowly, half expecting your fingers to come away burned. The texture was unmistakable: Thick, smooth, slightly warm to the touch.
The serpent’s ring stared back at you in faint gold ink.
Your mouth went dry. You looked toward the café door, scanning faces, but no one was familiar. No one was watching. Mina returned a moment later, phone still in hand, smiling. “Sorry! My supplier is impossible. Did you want dessert or—?”
“Hey,” you interrupted before you could stop yourself. “This—Why do you have this?”
You held up the card.
She blinked, confused. “What? What is that?”
You looked down again. For a second, you thought maybe you were wrong, maybe it wasn’t the same kind of card. Maybe your mind was just filling in details it wanted to see.
But when you turned it over, your stomach dropped.
The Eden Below requests your company. Dinner. Friday. 9 PM.
The date was the same as yesterday’s.
You laughed, though it sounded wrong. “Probably some marketing thing,” you said quickly, slipping it under a napkin. “Someone must be handing them out.”
Mina leaned forward, curious. “Marketing for what?”
You shrugged. “A restaurant, maybe.”
“Looks too expensive for flyers.” You didn’t answer. The napkin suddenly looked too thin to hide what was beneath it.
After lunch, you waited until she wasn’t looking and tucked the card into your bag. You told yourself you’d throw it out when you got back to the bakery.
You went through the rest of the day like nothing was wrong. Served customers, boxed tarts, and cleaned the counters twice over. But every time you reached into your bag for something, your fingers brushed against the edge of that card.
By closing, you’d read it three more times, as if the words might change.
You stopped beside the bench in front of the store, slipped the card out of your pocket, and stared at it one last time. The serpent gleamed under the streetlamp, its gold edges catching the light like something alive.
You hesitated only a second before tossing it into the trash can beside the bench. It landed with a small, final sound. soft but definite.
“Now, that’s cruel.”
You froze.
The voice came from behind you; a tone that felt like smoke and memory all at once. Your pulse jumped.
You turned.
He stood a few steps away, half in shadow, half in the amber spill of the streetlight. Dark coat, collar open, hands in his pockets. His hair caught the light in soft brown strands, and his eyes, calm and steady, were already on you.
“Han.” His name slipped out before you could stop it, too soft to be anything but recognition.
He smiled, faintly. “So you do remember.”
You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “What are you doing here?”
He tilted his head slightly, feigning thought. “That’s a funny question, considering you’ve been ignoring me.”
“I haven’t—” You stopped, realizing the lie even as you said it. “Those cards—”
“Yes,” he interrupted gently. “The ones you keep throwing away, you didn’t think I’d notice?”
“You look different today,” he said finally.
You blinked. “Different?”
He hummed, like he was thinking aloud. “Cuter.” His eyes flicked up, catching yours before you could look away. “Now, that dress you wore to my club however…”
You shifted your weight, suddenly aware of how close he’d come. “I didn’t know it was your club...”
“No,” he murmured, leaning just enough that the word brushed between you, “you didn’t.”
Something unreadable flickered in his expression. He studied your face the way one studies a reflection, searching for cracks in the surface.
You opened your mouth, but the words tangled. “I didn’t mean…Those cards—” He took a few steps closer, the sound of his shoes soft against the pavement. The overhead lights caught on the dark line of his coat.
“You didn’t mean to ignore me?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. “Or you didn’t mean to get caught?”
You felt your face warm. “I just didn’t know what you wanted. Or if it was serious.”
His brow arched slightly. “Dinner is very serious to me.”
For a moment, he just looked at you. Then that familiar half-smile found its way to his face, slow and deliberate. “All that effort, all those cards, and not a single reply.” He sighed, tilting his head slightly.
The space between you shrank until you could smell him, that same faint smoke threaded with something clean, something expensive.
He wasn’t smiling now, not really. The expression he wore was softer than that, quieter. Like amusement carefully kept under glass.
“I thought maybe the first one got lost,” he said. “Then the second. But then I see you do this?”
You blinked. He gestured loosely, his coat shifting with the motion. “I can be patient, but patience isn’t the same as being ignored.”
Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “It’s not like I expected you to just show up like this.”
“But I did.”
“Then leave.”
That earned you the smallest flicker of a grin. “You’ve gotten bold.”
The streetlight buzzed softly above you, the sound too loud in the quiet. You felt the pulse of your heartbeat everywhere. In your fingers, your throat, the hollow of your chest.
He studied you for a moment, then, quietly, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out: a folded piece of paper.
Your breath hitched. He extended it between two fingers, the serpent’s ring glinting under the light. “You keep losing these,” he said. “So I thought I’d deliver this one myself.”
You didn’t take it.
His gaze softened, just slightly. “Dinner. Tomorrow. 9 PM. I’ll even come pick you up if that helps.”
You shook your head, the motion too sharp. “You can’t just—”
“Can’t I?” His tone stayed mild, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable.
Your breath caught. He smiled again, gentler this time. The sound of a car passing broke the silence between you, and for a second, you thought he’d step closer, but he didn’t. He just held your gaze, his voice dipping low enough that you felt it before you heard it.
“I don’t know what you think this is,” you said finally, your voice low.
“I’m not here to scare you,” he said, his eyes softening, voice dropping lower. “Though you’ve hurt my feelings, you know.”
You blinked. “I—what?”
He placed the card gently on the chest pocket of your coat. Then, softer: “Now you can’t say you lost this one.”
And then he smiled—that quiet, knowing curve of his mouth—and stepped back, slipping his hands into his pockets as if nothing had happened.
“See you Friday,” he said, and walked past you down the street.
You stood frozen, staring after him until his figure blurred into shadow.
---
You woke up the morning of the dinner feeling oddly restless. It was the kind of restlessness that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with… something else. Something you didn’t want to name. You told yourself you weren’t going. You’d crumpled the card. You’d thrown it out again. But by noon, your mind had circled back to it half a dozen times.
You’d been halfway through icing a batch of cupcakes when Sohee leaned on the counter, arms folded, the expression on her face the kind that meant interrogation.
“So,” she said, drawing the word out. “You’re acting weird.”
“I’m not acting weird.”
“You’re wiping the same spot for the last five minutes.”
You froze mid-motion, cloth still in hand. “…I like it clean?”
“Mhm.” Sohee raised an eyebrow. “What’s his name?”
You blinked. “What?”
“Come on. It’s either your mom or a guy that gets you like this. You get all quiet and fluttery and pretend you’re thinking about recipes, but your brain’s elsewhere.”
Your heart skipped once, traitorous. “There isn’t—”
“Who is he? Because I know you haven’t been in contact with your mom for months.”
You shrugged, forcing a laugh that sounded like it belonged to someone else. “No one. Just a customer who left a mess.”
“Right,” she said, unconvinced. “And that mess lives rent-free in your head now?”
You rolled your eyes, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasn’t obvious. “You’re ridiculous.”
“So are you,” she said, straightening. “But if you were seeing someone, I’d tell you to be careful. You’ve got that look—like you don’t know if you’re about to walk into something you shouldn’t.”
That startled a soft laugh out of you, too quick to sound real. “You’ve been reading too many dramas.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe I just know you.”
You didn’t answer. You just smiled, because it was easier than explaining the way your stomach twisted when she said it.
By evening, you’d decided you weren’t going. Then somehow you found yourself standing in front of your closet, tugging out a dress you hadn’t worn in years, a soft, pink slip.
You told yourself it was curiosity, nothing more. Then you found yourself smearing lipstick across you lips and pinning your hair up with a ribbon.
You caught your reflection and frowned. “What am I doing?” you whispered.
Your reflection didn’t answer. “Who the heck has dinner at nine p.m.?” you muttered, grabbing your coat that was hung on the chair. “People who make bad decisions, that’s who.”
—
The night was already sour before the call came in.
Jeonghan stood at the edge of the mezzanine overlooking Eden Below’s main floor. From up here, the club was a living thing. Bass reverberating through the marble, bodies swaying in slow sync, and light bending over smoke and glass. It looked perfect, polished, exactly the way he demanded it to. But perfect only lasted until someone decided to get clever.
He saw it in the shift of movement first, two men in tailored suits heading toward the back hallway when they weren’t supposed to. His men. One of them new. The other old enough to know better.
Jeonghan’s jaw ticked. “Chan,” he said quietly, and his second appeared almost immediately. “Bring them up.”
Minutes later, the basement office smelled of iron and citrus cleaner, a combination he hated. The two men stood at attention, one fidgeting, one pretending not to. Han took his time rolling up his sleeves, careful, deliberate.
When he finally looked at them, his expression was smooth enough to be mistaken for calm. “First you steal from me,” he said, voice low, “then, you make me look fucking stupid.”
The younger one stammered, tripping over excuses about a mix-up with inventory, about moving product early. Jeonghan didn’t interrupt him, he didn’t have to. Silence, he’d found, always did the work for him.
When the rambling stopped, he finally leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “You think I’m pissed because of the money?”
The man hesitated. “N-No, sir.”
Jeonghan smiled faintly, and that was worse than shouting. Chan didn’t move, didn’t even breathe beside him. He’d seen this before—seen the way Jeonghan could empty a room without raising his voice. When Jeonghan stood, the air seemed to go thinner.
The next part was quick. Efficient. He didn’t have to dirty his hands, but sometimes the job required demonstration. A message had to look convincing to be believed. The crack was sharp, echoing once before fading into the hum of the generator.
Jeonghan wiped his hand with a towel someone passed him, the faint smear of blood bright against the white. He didn’t look down at it.
“Clean this up,” he said quietly. “And make sure word gets around about what honesty buys you in my house.”
He turned to go, only to find Chan watching him carefully, a cigarette in his hand ready to give to the Jeonghan.
“Something on your mind?” He takes the cigarettes and put it between his teeth, motioning for Chan to light it up.
Chan hesitated before answering. “You’ve got that dinner tonight.”
Han paused, adjusting his cuff. “I know.”
“You’re late.”
He takes a deep inhale and blows it into Chan’s face. “I’m aware.” By the time he left the basement, his pulse had evened out. Calm again. He checked his watch. 9:17
“Shit,” he muttered, tugging his tie loose.
He rinsed his hands in the sink, the cold water running pink before it cleared. The sting across his knuckles was sharp and rhythmic.
Occupational hazard, he’d call it later.
By the time Jeonghan reached the private dining room, the candle had burned low, a small, trembling flame in a sea of empty air.
The table was still set for two, crystal gleaming, wine breathing, a perfect still life of something that never began. The second glass, the one meant for her, had gone flat from waiting.
He stood there for a long moment, one hand on the doorframe, eyes tracing the edges of the room like he was searching for the ghost of what should’ve been there. The silence pressed in thickly, interrupted only by the low thrum of bass through the floorboards.
Behind him, Chan cleared his throat carefully. “She’s not here.”
Jeonghan didn’t turn. “I can see that.”
Chan lingered by the door. “Maybe she changed her mind.”
He straightened, adjusted his cuff with mechanical precision, and exhaled through his nose. The room felt wrong now. It irritated him.
“Want me to call the driver?” Chan asked.
Jeonghan shook his head once. “No.” He reached for his watch instead. “I’ll get her myself.”
He reached for his coat, sliding it on in one fluid motion. “Besides,” he added, glancing toward the door, “I’d rather not make her nervous with a chauffeur at her doorstep.”
And with that, he was moving again, coat over his shoulders, hair still damp, the scent of smoke and iron clinging faintly to him as he stepped into the hallway.
The staff scattered before him, and the crowd downstairs seemed to part instinctively as he passed. He didn’t rush, but every step carried a low, simmering purpose that made people get out of his way without understanding why.
But by the time he reached the front of the club, he was already picturing you, standing outside maybe, debating whether to come in, fingers twisting the strap of her bag.
You were standing by the entrance, caught between leaving and staying, the soft pink of your dress almost absurd against the black and gold of the club’s interior. Your body angled toward the street as if gravity itself were urging you to go.
He pushed the door open and let the night air wash over him.
“Lost again?” he said, voice smooth, barely raised above the hum of the city.
Startled, you spin to face him, your expression caught somewhere between guilt and surprise.
He took one step closer, the faintest smile returning to his mouth. “You’ve got a habit of showing up at my doors and not walking through them.”
—-
The door to Eden Below shut behind you with a soft, final click. Inside, the air was heavier.
Han didn’t speak at first. He only walked, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back, guiding you through a place that belonged to him. The lights dimmed as you passed the last of the velvet curtains, gold giving way to deep red, to shadow.
You didn’t realize how quiet the corridor was until your heels started to sound too loud against the marble. Somewhere far below, the music thudded through the floors, a muted pulse like a heartbeat too far away to touch.
Han led you down a short hall and stopped in front of a door. His reflection shimmered faintly in the glass panel beside it, all black and white and control. He looked untouched by everything and everyone you’d just passed, as if the chaos of the club couldn’t reach him.
He turned the handle and looked at you over his shoulder. “After you.”
You hesitated only a second before stepping inside.
The private dining room was exactly what you’d imagined but also nothing like it. Low ceilings. Warm light spilling over a dark wood table already set with wine, silver, and lit by soft candlelight.
Han followed, the door clicking shut behind him. For a moment, you thought he might stay silent again, but his voice came soft, almost thoughtful. “I’m glad you came.”
You turned to face him. “You didn’t give me much of a choice.”
He smiled faintly. “I gave you three.”
Your stomach fluttered. You didn’t know if it was from the words or the way he said them, his tone resting just at the edge of teasing.
His scent hit you then; smoke, iron, the faint bite of musk. Something expensive and warm that made you want to step back even though you didn’t.
Then the rest of him came into focus. His tie hung loose, shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at heat beneath the fabric. His sleeves were rolled unevenly; one cuff was darker, a shadow of something that might have been wine, might have been blood.
You opened your mouth. “Are you—”
“M’fine, sweetheart,” he said before you could finish. The word was calm, absolute. It left no room for doubt, even though everything about him screamed otherwise.
He smiled then, small and deliberate. “You’re punctual.”
You blinked. “It’s— it’s past nine.”
“I know.” He glanced at his watch, then back at you. “Still early.”
He crossed the room with the kind of easy confidence that didn’t need to prove itself. He stopped close enough that you could feel the trace of warmth coming off him, could see the way his pupils were still blown wide from something you didn’t understand.
“You’re all dolled up for me tonight.” His gaze moved slowly, unashamed. “You look very pretty.” His eyes lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, the calm dropped away. What looked back at you was something sharp, electric.
The words landed heavier than they should have. You tried to deflect. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” He finally sat, folding his hands loosely on the table. You don’t answer.
His knuckles were split, raw in the candlelight. He noticed you looking and smiled. “Occupational hazard.” He finally admits.
“Doing what?” you asked, voice quieter.
He tilted his head, amused. “Managing things.”
You stared at his hands again—the cuts along his knuckles, the faint, rust-colored smear against his sleeve. Managing things, he’d said.
Your mind scrambled for something reasonable. How physical could managing a club get? Maybe he handled security himself. Maybe he’d stepped in. Maybe it wasn’t blood at all.
“You don’t really think a manager does all the paperwork himself, do you?” he asked softly.
Your throat went dry. “I—well, I figured someone else—”
He smiled, faintly, like he could see the exact shape of your thoughts. “Relax. I keep things running. That’s all.”
The room felt warmer than before, the candle flickering between you like it was struggling to breathe.
He leaned back, one arm draped along the back of the chair beside him, eyes flicking toward the candle between you. The flame caught the sharp and reflective glint in his gaze.
“You seem nervous,” he said.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Maybe because I don’t usually have dinner in places like this.”
“Places like this,” he repeated. “Or with people like me?”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Maybe both.”
He tilted his head, as if that amused him. “I like honest answers.”
“It wasn’t meant to be honest,” you said.
He chuckled under his breath, low and warm. “That’s what makes it one.”
You looked down, smiling despite yourself, and when you looked up again, he was already watching you. Not staring but watching you patiently. Like the rest of the room didn’t exist.
That look did something strange to the air. He wasn’t leaning toward you nor trying to crowd the space, yet somehow you still felt it, that quiet pull he carried with him. Every move he made felt like gravity deciding where you could stand.
“Eat,” he said gently, nodding toward your plate.
You picked up your fork because it was easier than asking questions. The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full of things you were ready to name.
You kept telling yourself this was fine, that he was just a man, that the warmth crawling up your neck was embarrassment, not unease.
You didn’t notice that he was still smiling.
He waited until you’d taken a bite before speaking again. “How long have you had the bakery?”
You swallowed, grateful for something normal. “A little over three years. I took it over from the previous owner after she retired.”
“Three years,” he repeated, like he was filing the number away. “You like it?”
You nodded. “It’s quiet work.”
“Quiet,” he echoed. “That’s what you like?”
“I guess so,” you said, unsure why it sounded like the wrong answer.
He smiled faintly, swirling his wine. “That explains a lot.”
You raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“About you.” He watched you take a small sip of wine, chin resting lightly on his hand.
“Careful,” he said. “That’s stronger than it tastes.”
You set the glass down, laughing softly. “You sound like you’re warning me.”
“Maybe I am,” he said. “Some things are better enjoyed slowly.”
You smiled. “Like what?”
He leaned back, eyes narrowing in amusement. “You want the full list?”
“I was hoping for an example.”
Han let the question hang for a second, like he was deciding how honest to be. Then he smiled, lazy but deliberate. “For one, patience,” he said. “It ruins most people. They either rush, or wait so long they lose the point of waiting.”
You tilted your head, pretending to think. “That’s… not really an example.”
“It is,” he said. “You just didn’t ask the right way.”
You laughed, the sound small but real. “And what’s the right way to ask?”
He leaned in slightly, elbows resting on the table, voice softening just enough to pull you closer without meaning to. “You could start by saying please.”
You blinked, thrown. “Please?” He waited until the word left your mouth, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Better,” he said again, voice low, warm in a way that made the air feel heavier. “Though I think you could do it slower next time.”
You let out a quiet, nervous laugh, unsure if he was teasing or testing. “You really like to be humored, don’t you?”
Han’s eyes lifted, calm and unreadable. “Only by certain people.”
“You’re so hard to read,” you said finally.
Han’s mouth quirked at your words. “That’s good. Makes people nervous.”
You laughed, half under your breath. “Is that the goal?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “Depends who’s sitting across from me.” He said it casually, voice low enough that you almost missed the way his gaze lingered a little too long. You tried not to fidget, lifting your glass instead.
He set his down, fingers tapping lightly against the stem. “All right, then. What else do you like—besides quiet?”
You hesitated. “I don’t know. Reading. Baking. Normal things.”
He sat there, still and composed, his glass untouched now. The candlelight worked its way up the sharp lines of his jaw, softening nothing.
His shirt was still unbuttoned at the collar, the fabric open just enough that you could see the faint rise and fall of his chest when he breathed.
You tried not to stare, but your eyes caught on the smallest things, such as the faint red mark still clinging to the curve of his wrist. You wondered if it hurt. You wondered if he even felt it.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
You nearly choked. “That’s—wow. You don’t waste time, do you?”
He smiled. “I could ask nicely if it’d make you feel better.”
Han let the question hang a moment longer than was comfortable, watching your expression the way someone studies a tell in a card game.
“That wasn’t the problem.”
“Then what is?” He leaned in slightly, elbows resting on the table, his tone calm but unyielding.
You faltered. “It’s just… sudden.” This whole situation was all too sudden.
“Not really.” His gaze flicked to the small flower charm resting against your collarbone, then back up to your face. “I’ve been wondering since you walked in.”
The air went still, the candle between you wavered, its flame bending toward him like even it was caught in his pull.
You laughed nervously, trying to dispel the heat creeping up your neck. “That’s—bold.”
He smiled faintly. “Honest.”
You looked away, tracing your finger along the edge of your napkin. “And if I said yes?”
He didn’t move, didn’t even blink. “Then I’d say he should’ve come with you.”
Your pulse tripped. You hated how your chest tightened, how his voice seemed to slip under your skin without trying.
“And if I said no?” you asked quietly.
“Then I’d say good.” Han smiled, soft but dangerous. “So…do you?” he cocked his head to the side and smiled, not wide but just a soft pull at one corner of his mouth, as if he already knew the answer.
You blinked, still catching your breath. “I—no. No boyfriend.”
“Good.” His answer was soft, immediate. No lift in his tone, no grin to soften it—just that word, placed neatly between you like a card face down.
“Good as in… what?” you asked, trying to make it sound like a joke.
He cocked his head again, the smallest movement. His eyes warmed; the rest of him didn’t move, and he let the corner of his mouth curve. Heat crawled up your neck before you could look away.
You picked at the edge of your napkin. “So you’re patient and cryptic. Great. Anything else I should know before dessert?”
“You blush easily,” he said, almost kindly. “And you keep pretending you don’t notice I’m flirting with you.”
Your head snapped up. “You’re—what?”
He didn’t repeat it. He didn’t need to. He just held your eyes and let the silence make the point for him.
You fumbled for a lifeline. “Fine. My turn again. When exactly did you decide to… be like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like—” You gestured between you, helpless. “This.”
“When you showed up at my club,” he said. “And played cards with me.” Suddenly the candle popped and so did your heartbeat: You jumped. He didn’t.
You tried to gather yourself. “You’re not going to tell me anything real, are you?”
“I have,” he said, and for a heartbeat it almost sounded gentle. “You just keep looking for different words.”
“Such as?”
“Safer ones.”
——
By the time Jeonghan reached the bakery, the lights were off. The sign in the window still read
Closed, the reflection of streetlamps flickering faintly across the glass. Inside, the place looked untouched, counters gleaming, displays empty.
A voice carried from behind him. “She’s not in today.”
He turned slightly. A woman from the flower shop next door was standing in her doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked nervous under his gaze, like she wasn’t sure if she should be speaking to him at all.
“She called me this morning,” she said. “Said she wasn’t feeling well.”
He hummed, almost thoughtful. “Sick?”
“That’s what she said.”
He nodded once, thanked her with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and walked away.
By the time Jeonghan reached your apartment, the snowy drizzle had started again. It clung to the shoulders of his coat, darkening the fabric. He knocked once. Then again, lighter.
—
It took you a moment to open the door. You looked pale but warm, cheeks flushed from the heat inside, sweater slouched off one shoulder.
“Han?” Your voice carried a soft disbelief. “What are you—how did you even find me?”
He glanced past her into the apartment, then back at her. “You weren’t at work.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” you said, gripping the edge of the door.
He smiled faintly, slow and unreadable. “Don’t worry about it.”
That should’ve been alarming. But the way he said it, almost gentle, made your stomach tighten instead.
He lifted the small bag in his hand. “You weren’t feeling well, apparently.”
Your eyes dropped to the bag: “You brought all that… for me?”
He shrugged, casual. “Didn’t seem right showing up empty-handed.”
“It’s so cold out,” You blinked, trying to find the right word. “This was really unnecessary.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But I wanted to.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but stopped when you saw the faint smile that tugged at his mouth, a little smug, but undeniably soft around the edges.
“Here,” he said simply, holding it out like it was nothing. You reached for it, but before your fingers touched the handles, his grip shifted, just slightly. Not pulling away, not giving in. Holding it there suspended until you looked up at him.
“But you said it yourself. It’s freezing out here.” he said, eyes glinting faintly.
You let out a short breath, torn between exasperation and disbelief. “You’re ridiculous.” You stepped aside, hesitating only a second. “You can come in. Just for a minute.”
“Five,” he murmured, brushing past you, the scent of rain and smoke following him in.
It was stupid to say yes. You knew that. But something about the way he stood there, like he’d already read your answer in the way you breathed, making the word slip out anyway.
“…Fine.”
His smile softened, slow and satisfied. He stepped past you, holding the door open. “After you.”
And as you walked up the steps, the weight of his gaze at your back felt heavier than the cold ever could.
You pushed the door open, flicked on the light, and stepped aside to let him in. Han lingered on the threshold for a beat before crossing it, his presence filling the small apartment in a way that made the space feel smaller, more intimate.
The warmth from the heater hit instantly, fogging the edge of the window where the cold pressed from outside. You wrap your robe tighter around your waist and turned to find him quietly looking around.
You weren’t used to being observed like this, with the kind of focus that wasn’t judgment or curiosity but something heavier. Then you noticed his shoes. Black leather, perfectly polished, incongruous against the scuffed floorboards.
“Can you, um…” you said, hesitating as his gaze flicked back to you. “Can you take your shoes off, please?”
He blinked, almost surprised. “My shoes?”
You nodded quickly. “Sorry, it’s just— I just deep cleaned the floors earlier this week.”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved up, genuine this time. He bent down without protest, undoing the laces with practiced ease.
You weren’t sure why your face warmed as you watched him quietly obeying such a simple request. His coat brushed the floor when he straightened again, shoes neatly lined beside the door.
“Better?” he asked, voice low, threaded with amusement.
You shook your head trying to hide your smile. “I didn’t think you’d actually listen.”
He tilted his head, studying you. “Not usually,” he said softly. “But I make exceptions.”
He turned, setting a plain white paper bag on the counter. Steam had already dampened the top, curling the edges. The faint scent that drifted out; broth, garlic, ginger filled the small kitchen instantly.
“Still warm.” he said, nodding toward it.
You blinked. “You brought me food?”
He didn’t answer right away, just studied your face. The slight flush at your cheeks, the faint gloss in your eyes. He reached out without thinking, the back of his fingers grazing your temple before you could flinch away.
“I’m not that sick,” you said, but your voice came out too soft to sound convincing.
He didn’t look convinced. “Sure,” he murmured, voice low, not quite teasing.
Then he stepped past you, setting the bag down on the counter like he’d done this before, ignoring every unspoken rule of distance.
He loosened the fold of the bag, pulling out a neatly wrapped container and a folded paper bag of bread. “Soup,” he said simply. “Chicken, I think. The woman at the shop swore it fixes everything.”
You frowned, somewhere between flattered and unsettled. “Han, you can’t just show up and—bring soup. That’s not normal.”
He smiled faintly, not denying it. “Can’t a guy skip work once in his life and bring someone soup?”
You opened your mouth to argue again, but he was already unwrapping the container. He reached for a spoon, stirred once, then held it up to his mouth, testing the temperature before offering it to you.
You blinked. “I can feed myself.”
“I know.” His voice dropped lower, smoother. “Just making sure it’s not too hot.”
Your pulse jumped when he stepped close. He smelled faintly of smoke and cedar, the kind of scent that clung to you long after he left.
“Sit,” he said softly, his hand brushing your elbow lightly but firm enough to make you obey.
He didn’t answer. Just stirred the broth once, steam curling between you. The sound of the spoon against the container filled the silence, too domestic for what your relationship entailed. You shouldn’t be standing in your kitchen with him. You shouldn’t be letting him do this.
The quiet that followed didn’t feel awkward, just wrong in a way that tightened in your chest.
Your fingers brushed his when you took the spoon, a small, unintentional touch that lingered longer than it should’ve. You took a careful sip, mostly to look anywhere but at him.
“Good?” he asked, brushing a stray curl from your cheek.
You nodded. “Y-Yeah.” The pad of his thumb lingered at your jaw a moment too long before his eyes caught on the delicate chain at your neck, the one glinting softly in the light.
He reached for it before you could react, the cold brush of metal against his fingers drawing a quiet sound from your throat.
“Pretty,” he murmured.
You swallowed, heat creeping up your throat. “Do you—um.” You cleared your throat, looking anywhere but at him. “Do you want something to eat too?”
When you looked back, he was already smiling, the kind of soft, knowing smile that made your heart skip without permission. “You’re nervous again,” he said.
“I’m just being polite.”
He hummed, unconvinced. “You shouldn’t think of me as a stranger, sweetheart.”
“Then what should I think of you as?”
Han smiled slowly in that dangerous, careful kind of smile that hinted he already had an answer, but wasn’t ready to say it yet.
“Someone who likes the way you say please,” he said, voice soft, the faintest tease of your last interaction at the edges.
Your heart stuttered once. You told yourself it was nothing. Just his way of seeing how far he could go before you stopped him. Yet you never did.
You tugged your cardigan tighter around yourself, throat aching. “You shouldn’t be around me,” you said softly. “You’ll catch whatever I have.”
You turned away, muttering something about reheating leftovers, just to keep your hands busy.
He looked back at you, one brow lifting. “I don’t get sick.” You could hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he moved. His footsteps were slow, unhurried, the pace of someone exploring, inspecting.
When you finally turned, he wasn’t by the counter anymore.
Han stood near the small bookshelf tucked against your living room wall. His coat had shifted open at the front, the faint glint of his watch catching the light as he reached out to run a finger along the spine of a book.
You froze.
He pulled one free, tilting his head to read the title. Then another. The corner of his mouth curved as realization dawned.
You wanted to disappear. “Those are—”
He looked over his shoulder, feigning innocence. “What?”
“Just—old books,” you said quickly, voice too high to sound casual. “Not—those aren’t—”
Han opened one, flicking lazily through the pages. His brows lifted slightly. “Interesting taste.”
“Midnight Rendesvous,” he read aloud first, tone thoughtful, like he was trying to remember if he’d heard of it before. “Hmm. Sounds… literary.”
You crossed the room in a rush. “Give me that.”
He didn’t even look at you. “Satin and Smoke. Interesting.” His lips twitched. “You must have a theme going.”
“Han,” you said finally, trying for patience.
“Hmm?” He glanced over his shoulder, feigning distraction. “I’m just appreciating your taste.”
He ignored one completely, sliding another book free. “The King’s Sin.” He actually laughed at that one, quiet but unrestrained. “Bold title. He sins a lot, I assume?”
You covered your face with your hands. “Oh my God, stop reading them!”
He turned a page, smirking. “You’ve read this more than once. Spine’s cracked.”
You made a strangled sound. “Put it back.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
He looked back at the cover, thumb brushing the edge of a particularly dog-eared page. “You really liked this one.”
Your stomach dropped. “You read one more word and I swear—”
He turned, that faint smirk pulling at his mouth. “Swear what?”
“I’ll stop being nice.”
He chuckled, slow and low. “See, now I’m curious what that looks like.” He turned, leaning a shoulder against the shelf. His eyes skimmed the shelf like he was browsing a wine list.
He plucked another book at random and flipped it open, the sound of the pages slicing the quiet air.
“Her breath hitched as he backed her against the wall—”
“Han!” You nearly shouted, rushing forward. “Put that down.”
He didn’t even flinch. His voice dropped, smooth and unbothered, reading the next line with infuriating composure.
“—his hands tracing the edge of her jaw, tilting her face up until she couldn’t look anywhere but him—”
You covered your face with both hands. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Hmm.” He looked over the top of the book, that small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “This one’s got good rhythm. Want me to keep going?”
“Of course not!” Han’s grin widened as he turned the page, pretending to scan for another passage. “‘You shouldn’t want this,’ she whispered—’” he paused, lowering his voice until it was almost a murmur, “‘but you do.’”
You let out a strangled noise and snatched the book, but he held it high, out of reach. “Hold on,” he said, flipping to another page, “this part looks promising.”
You lunged again, catching his arm this time, and he gave a low, genuine laugh that vibrated right through you. He tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief.
He smirked, lowering the book slightly, his tone dipping into mock seriousness. “Alright, fine. We can reenact it instead.”
You froze. “W—what??”
“Purely academic,” he said, flipping the book closed. “I’ll even let you pick the chapter.”
“Han.”
“What?” he said innocently. “You were blushing when I read it. Thought you might want a live reading.”
“Stop talking,” you hissed, grabbing for the book again.
He let you have it this time, releasing it easily; the laughter still in his voice as he leaned back against the shelf. “You know,” he said, “if you ever want to recreate one of those scenes, you should probably call me first. I’m told I take direction well.”
You stared at him, absolutely speechless. “Don’t joke like that!”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Yes!”
“Then I need to work on my delivery.”
You covered your face again, groaning into your palms. “You are insufferable.”
“Persistent,” he corrected, same as always. When you finally peeked at him between your fingers, he was smiling softly, though not cruelly or mockingly—just that maddening blend of charm and composure that made you forget, for half a second, that he wasn’t supposed to belong in places like yours.
“You’re fun when you’re flustered,” he murmured.
“Get out of my apartment.”
He laughed, unbothered, already slipping his hands into his pockets as he started toward the door. When he finally spoke again, his tone had softened. “Don’t look so offended. It’s… endearing.”
You glared at him, though your pulse still hadn’t settled. “You think embarrassing me is endearing?”
“I think everything about you is endearing,” he said, and the way he said it made your breath catch.
He didn’t move closer, but he didn’t have to. The air itself seemed to fold around his words.
“Besides,” he murmured, letting his gaze drift back to the shelf, “now I know what to get you as a present.”
You wanted to tell him there wouldn’t be a next time.
Han turned to walk away, taking two slow steps toward the door. Then, he stopped dead. His shoulders tensed, and he slowly turned his head back, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the wall just past your shoulder.
"Wait," he said, the word clipped and low, all the earlier humor instantly gone. His eyes, usually dancing with mischief, were suddenly sharp and serious.
You froze, your own heart giving a startled thump. "What is it?"
He didn't answer. He took a long, quiet stride back toward you, his eyes fixed on something you couldn't see. "Don't move," he instructed, his voice low and urgent, the kind of tone that demanded absolute, unthinking obedience.
You immediately backed away, stepping past the bookshelf and toward the corner of the room, your eyes wide with confusion and a sudden, sharp panic. "Han, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
He was closing the distance, his focus still entirely on the wall behind you. You finally hit the cold, hard meeting point of two walls, trapped in the corner.
Han reached you and planted his hand flat against the wall right beside your head, caging you in.
He leaned in, his body pressed close, his gaze intently scrutinizing the corner of the ceiling. You were pressed flat against the drywall, suddenly hyper-aware of the heat and solid muscle of him surrounding you. You could smell the faint, masculine scent of his cologne.
You lifted your hand, pressing it weakly against his chest, trying to subtly create space. "I—I don't see anything," you whispered, the sound breathless.
Han finally shifted his gaze, and his eyes, when they met yours, were dark with a potent, unspoken emotion. The fear in your chest instantly melted, replaced by a dizzying rush of pure, overwhelming realization.
He hadn't been looking at the wall. He had simply needed to get you into a corner.
A slow, familiar smirk began to pull at the corner of his mouth. "You're right," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky register. "There's nothing wrong up there."
He let his eyes drift down, lingering on your wide, innocent gaze, then on your parted lips, and finally resting on the frantic rise and fall of your chest.
"But you," he breathed, the sound thick with possessiveness, "are right where I want you."
He eased his free hand from his pocket, his knuckles grazing your hip. He tilted his head, his eyes blazing down at your face.
You were pinned, the intense tension of the fake emergency giving way to the undeniable heat of his desire. The hand on the wall shifted, his fingers sliding down to gently trace the delicate curve of your neck.
Han’s thumb stayed at your jaw, unmoving, his skin warm where it touched yours. The air between you had gone thin, heavy with something unsaid.
He watched you quietly with an unnerving stillness that made you feel both studied and seen. The kind of look that stripped away the surface of things, the way you hid behind casual words.
Your pulse jumped, a faint, betraying flicker at your throat. His gaze followed it.
He didn’t move in right away. Instead, he brushed his knuckles along the edge of your jaw , slow, deliberate, as though memorizing the shape of hesitation.
“You’re flushed,” he murmured. His breath carried the faint scent of smoke and rain. “Is it the “fever”, or me?”
You tried to laugh, but it came out thin. “Y-you’re too close.”
“Do you know what this reminds me of?” His voice was low, almost thoughtful.
You didn’t trust yourself to answer.
"His hands tracing the edge of her jaw, tilting her face up until she couldn’t look anywhere but him," he recited, and his thumb gently found the edge of your jaw, tilting your chin up exactly as the book described.
He drew in a breath, close enough that the movement of his chest brushed yours. “It’s not very realistic,” he murmured, his tone almost lazy. “Nobody actually stops to breathe here.”
He pulled back just enough that you could inhale, but not far enough to truly escape. His eyes lowered, studying the sudden, frantic rise and fall of your chest. A slow, knowing smile curved the edge of his lips.
“But you wouldn’t know, right, bunny?”
You stared up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. “Y-you’re too warm.”
“Yes, I am,” he murmured, closing the space between you again. His breath ghosted over your ear, stealing the air you were desperately trying to catch.
Your eyelids fluttered, your breath leaving your lungs in a soft whoosh. You looked up at him, trapped by his gaze, small and utterly at his mercy.
“Tell me, have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart? Truly kissed?”
His eyes dropped to your mouth.
“Want me to show you how it's done properly?”
He leaned in, his lips hovering an agonizing breath above your own. "Ask me to kiss you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me you want my mouth on yours."
You were dizzy, the humiliation was a painful knot in your throat. You just trembled, unable to form the words.
He sighed, the sound soft, almost disappointed. "You can't be shy now. Show me what a good bunny you can be for me”
"I... I want you to kiss me," you finally managed, the words shaky and quiet.
A slow, devastating smile stretched across his face. "Good girl," he purred. "That's what I wanted to hear."
His mouth took yours, a possessive, silencing kiss that stole your breath and melted your resistance. You clung to him, your hands gripping his shirt, pushing back against the hard wall of his chest. His forehead rested against yours, both of you panting.
When he broke the kiss, he pulled his hand from the wall and slid it down, resting his fingers lightly on the band of your pajamas.
“See, bunny?” he whispered, his voice thick and raw against your skin. “Nobody stops to breathe.”
Your lips felt bruised and swollen, and you drew in a gasp of air that did nothing to clear the sudden, deafening rush in your ears.
You clung to him, your hands gripping his shirt, pushing back against the hard wall of his chest. The soft material was a welcome anchor in the dizzying spiral of sensation. His forehead rested against yours, both of you panting.
“This band stays put until you use your words.”
You whimpered, shaking your head, unable to speak the crude words.
"A sound isn't enough," he scolded, his voice gentle but firm. “Come on…I’ll give you what you’re begging for, but you have to earn it.
“You just need to admit it. Say, 'Hannie, I'm wet, please.'"
The humiliation was overwhelming, but the aching need was a blinding force. You forced the words out, hot and shaky. "I-I need it, Hannie. Please... I'm—I’m so wet."
Every ounce of pride you possessed withered and died. The words were filthy, but the raw need in your belly was a fire that demanded feeding.
"So beautiful," he told you, and the praise felt like a dark reward. His eyes, dark and heavy, never left yours. It was a victory he savored, a moment of absolute claim.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he lowered the article of clothing. His fingers slipped inside, pushing aside the cotton barrier, immediately finding the hot, slick proof of your surrender.
A sharp, helpless gasp tore from your throat. God, his hands were so big. So heavy. You knew you were done for.
He didn't rush to use his fingers; he simply let his thumb rest on your clit, a soft, agonizing pressure.
You immediately felt the sticky, undeniable evidence of your arousal squelch beneath his thumb, and you couldn't stifle the tiny, desperate noise that escaped.
"Do you want my fingers inside you? Huh, Bunny?" he whispered, his voice thick.
The demand was pure torture, forcing the last of your resistance to crumble. You hated how the sound of his pet name had easily made you desperate, but you couldn't speak another word of protest.
The hot tears running down your temples were a fresh wave of humiliation, proof of how utterly undone you were.
Your eyes were squeezed shut, tears slipping out from the intensity. "I’m— I'm ready for your fingers. Please, I need it, Hannie.”
Every syllable felt like a betrayal. You can't look at him. Your hips twitched subtly beneath his hand, a tiny, involuntary movement that was the clearest answer of all.
"Who am I to deny you of anything?” he murmured, his voice rich with satisfaction.
He eased one finger inside you, slow and deliberate. The stretch was sudden and overwhelming, an invasive fullness that made the breath hitch violently in your chest.
You cried out, clutching at his shoulders as the intimate pressure invaded your core. The sound was a thin, high thing you barely recognized as your own.
He didn't move the finger, just settled it deep inside.The still pressure was excruciating, a taunt that amplified your need for motion.
"Feels good, right? Tell me it's better than reading about it." he commanded gently.
"It's... so good," you moaned, clinging to him. Your nails dug into the firm muscle of his shoulder, seeking purchase in the dizzying wave of sensation.
The addition of the second finger was a heavy, yielding stretch, instantly filling the space his first touch had claimed.
He started to move his hand, a deep, rhythmic thrust that instantly stole your breath and made your hips grind against his palm. The pleasure was overwhelming, immediate, and entirely dominant.
He leaned in, his mouth close to your ear, his voice a low rumble that cut through the haze of sensation. "Tell me, bunny," he whispered, his movements pausing just for a tormenting second. "Has anyone else felt you this tight?"
The question was a shock of cold clarity amidst the heat, pulling a mortified gasp from your chest.
You shook your head rapidly, your hair clinging to your damp skin. "I haven't... I haven't—God, don't ask me that. J-Just you.”
He didn't maintain the pace. Just as the overwhelming pressure built into a sharp, dizzying point, Han froze his hand, pulling his fingers back slightly—not out, but enough to snatch the rhythm away.
You cried out, a small, desperate sound of loss, your body instantly seizing up with the agonizing emptiness. You gripped his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric.
"No, no, no! Stop! Please, put it back in!" you whimpered, your eyes flying open, desperately reaching for his hand.
He smiled, a dark, low sound in his chest. "Such a greedy girl. I knew all those books were corrupting you."
Han, however, wasn't looking at your face. He was looking at your hips, at the dark, slick stain his hand had just left on your pants.
He lifted his fingers, examining the proof of your surrender with a slow, dark satisfaction.
You could hear your own ragged breathing, the sound of your frantic pulse thundering in your ears.
"You're ruined," he observed, his voice a low, heavy purr, entirely focused on his fingers. "Look at this.”
He turned his attention back to you, his eyes burning with dark intent.
He leaned down, pulling the waistband of your pajamas down just enough to expose the slick, wet edges of your cotton underwear. He brought his thumb, still glistening with your heat, up to your mouth.
"Open up," he commanded softly, his eyes demanding absolute obedience. "Taste your yourself. Taste how much you begged for me."
You froze, horrified by the command, the shame instantly crushing the pleasure.
Your mind screamed no, but your body was already shaking, recognizing his absolute power over you
"You've read about much worse things," he pointed out, his voice utterly gentle, yet completely non-negotiable. "This is just proof. Now, open your mouth."
You trembled, your pride warring with the frantic, subservient ache in your core. The control in his eyes was absolute. Slowly, reluctantly, you parted your lips.
He rubbed his thumb across your bottom lip, then gently pressed it into your mouth. The taste raw and undeniably yours. You made a soft, humiliated noise against his skin.
"Suck" he instructed, his voice low and firm and when he pulled his hand away, satisfied, and your knees instantly buckled. He caught you easily, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding your weak body pressed against the wall.
"We’re just getting started, bunny." he murmured, pulling your head against his chest.
yeah id shit myself if this happened irl tho. IDC if its jeonghan!!
Well pussy drunk jeonghan who just enjoy your weak vulnerable overstimulated self 😩
WAP
Warnings: mdni 18+, cunninglingus, Jeonghan is evil, Jeonghan has a wicked mouth, teasing, dirty-talk, descriptions of manhandling, descriptions of a mating press, squirting, Jeonghan p*ssy drunk, makes you cry, suggestive ending - pwp
WC: 1248
Jeonghan believes he's a nice man.
But when you're looking up at him with adorable teary eyes, your lips wobbling as he kneels over you? It makes his heart skip in excitement, his cock jerking in his sweats just the same.
He caresses your leg, kneeling between your thighs, catching the way your pussy clenches around nothing. You were completely bare to him, and the sight has his lips curve into a dark grin. "You’re so pretty like this." His words were soft, just like his fingers that spread your plush thighs open even more. "Look at her, dripping f'me."
Jeonghan's eyes hood, half-lidded, as his tongue drags across his bottom lip. "Ha-hannie." Your whine is pathetic. Words already slurring - he'd been teasing you for so long, you felt like you were losing your sanity.
He had started innocently, pulling you onto his lap, warm hands sliding under your shirt and up your back as he pulled you into a kiss. He kissed you like you had all the time in the world, swallowing your cute little noises, keeping you from grinding down in his lap when he eventually deepened the kiss. His tongue languidly stroked over yours, coaxing you until you were desperate and needy in his hands. Just how he liked you. Your fingers tugging his hair into a disheveled mess. "Pl-please, need you, Hannie."
Your pussy dripped heavily with your slick, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes glossy with want. You were so cute, letting him push you onto your back, stripping you naked while he stayed clothed. It always turned him on how easily you obeyed. The power stroked his ego like his hand did his cock, making his breath labored, pupils blown with lust.
“Spread those legs some more, pretty.”
How perfect you were for him - quivering and leaking so sinfully onto the sheets below. So debauched and wet for him - and if Jeonghan was any less of a patient man, he’d just fuck your pretty pussy right then and there. Feel you stretch around his hard cock, squeezing him deeper into your sopping, needy pussy.
But, no. Oh no, instead, he keeps eye contact with you as he lowers himself between your legs. His face is hovering over your drooling cunt, his hands moving your thighs over his shoulders so he can get a better look at you. "Hannie- don't tease," your whines come with a cute pout that makes Jeonghan huff a soft laugh. He turns his head to bite your inner thigh playfully and laughs more when you jolt from the sting.
“Be careful for what you ask for, Pretty.”
-
Jeonghan - oh, he’s just in heaven - letting out a deep, guttural groan, lapping so greedily at your sweet juices. His fingers are digging into the meaty parts of your thighs as they shake.
You’re crying, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks as he buries his face deeper into your weeping cunt. It’s been hours, or what felt like hours, trapped under his strength as he made you cum on his tongue over and over again.
His jaw aches, the lower half of his face drenched in your sweet honey. But it’s not enough. His tongue licks broad strokes, sucking your glistening folds with a wet ‘fwop.’ He makes out with your pretty pussy messily, the wet noises echoing in the room and adding to the warmth that grows in your stomach again.
You felt delirious. Crying wantonly, twisting your fingers in his hair, disheveling it more as you fought between pulling him closer or pushing him away. He’s lavishing you with the swirling edge of his tongue. “Oh fuck-“ your moan twists into a high-pitched whine, his head shaking to swipe his nose over your hypersensitive clit.
All five of his coarse fingertips are digging into the cheeks of your ass, holding you firmly to his open mouth. His glistening tongue slobbering all over your pussylips, soaking his taste buds with your sweet honey like it was his lifeline. And when his tongue stuffs inside your sopping cunt, curling just right, you’re seeing stars.
Your toes curl, your hips buck, and your mouth drops as you gasp. Your orgasm flashes through you hard, your juices flooding into his waiting mouth with a splash. You miss the way his hips grind into the bed below for friction; your whole body shudders in pleasure.
Trying to run from Jeonghan’s sinful mouth, your blurry vision catches him smiling at you like a predator does to a prey they‘ve trapped.
Jeonghan’s lips are puffy, slicked with your cum and his spit. He sneers at you with a dangerous smirk, his hand on your ankle as he speaks down at you. “Where d’ya think you’re going, Pretty?” His hand becomes a vice grip, dragging your plaint and humming body back to him. His hands hold both of your ankles, pushing your legs up into a filthy mating press that takes your breath away. “You said no teasing,” his eyes swirl with a dark chaos as he leans down to your puffy cunt, it’s still quivering, weeping for him. “Now, take it like a good girl.”
You watch as he moves one hand down to your drooling cunt, fingers spreading your glittering wet folds apart and then making eye contact with you.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck.
Jeonghan purses his slicked lips and spits on your quivering pussy. His warm wad of saliva drips messily through your folds and mixes with your sweet juices. It’s filthy, dirty, and obscene. But it’s oh so hot when he wastes no time, leaning down, his tongue chases after it, twisting, filling your cunt and curling deep inside you - you scream.
Your eyes cross, your mind blanks as he keeps going. He eats your pussy like a man starved, slurping and sucking for his pleasure. His arm pressed down the back of your knees to keep you trapped, spread wide shamelessly, and under his mercy.
All you could do was take it. Tears stain your cheeks and the pillow under your head, your thighs burning, lungs aching for breath as he wraps his wicked lips around your clit, sucking the nub harshly as his tongue flicks over it faster.
Your fingers claw the drenched sheets under you - the knot in your tummy twisting so hot, like never before. You can only gurgle Jeonghan’s name halfway before a warmth spreads through your whole body. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, completely made dumb by his tongue when you squirt. You don’t make a sound, jaw slacked open in a lewd expression as your head tilts farther back in the pillows.
Your sweet honey splashes across his face, down his chest, and all over your legs. The slick noises increase in volume, your walls clamp on Jeonghan ‘s evil tongue, and your whole body slumps. The tremors in your inner thighs stay long after the aftershocks. Every soft lick of Jeonghan licking you clean, making your whole body flinch with an electric zap!
When he’s satisfied, he sits up, his face dripping with your arousal filthily that you almost don’t notice he’s got his hard cock in his hand. You blink dumbly, brain turned to mush as he smacks the head of his cock on your raw pussy. You jolt with each slap, your ear ringing as he raises an eyebrow at you with a cruel smirk.
“Spread those legs some more, pretty.”
-
A/N: I just need Jeonghan to hold me down and make me take it.
Anyways, love to see your comments, kudos, and feedback! Hope you enjoyed 👍🏼
warnings: lowkey controlling older jeonghan, unprotected p in v (don’t!!), swearing, hint of corruption and breeding kink, reader is v v babied (jeonghan sometimes speaks in 3rd person), mdni!!!
➼ jeonghan is in love with his cute little toy he can play with
➼ in the beginning of your relationship, after dropping you off at your part-time job, he’d sit in the car and just watch you (and the other men you work with) for HOURS
➼ his excuse for that is he wants you to be safe 😇
➼ he likes to spoil you and i mean SPOIL you
➼ you mentioned wanting a new bag in passing a week ago, and you got home to it sitting on your couch in the living room
➼ he loves to also baby you
➼ you’re his little baby who needs taken care of
➼ you mess up at work/hurt yourself/spill something/don’t feel well? he’d coo at you and take care of you, little “aigoo”’s spilling past his lips
➼ would continuously be touching your skin
➼ whether’s it’s sexual or not, he’s touching and squeezing your cheek, thumb caressing your thigh, hand tangled in your hair, thumb pressing down on your hole as he intensely watches the juice that immediately coats his thumb
➼ he likes to make sure you’ve eaten, ordering food and/or heating up left overs as soon as you express that you’re hungry
➼ expect your favourite drink to either be on your bedside table or at your workplace first thing in the morning
➼ he’d jump at any occasion to be with you…lazy jeonghan? who’s that?
➼ he also likes to wash your hair, wash your back, even offering to massage you in the bathtub
➼ jeonghan dries your hair when you get out of the shower, and knows your skincare routine step-by-step too!!
bonus:
➼ jeonghan is such a hole inspector…
➼ would just spread you open on the bed, hands firm on your thighs as you whine and squirm to close them
➼ “mm..your hole is so cute and tiny baby”
➼ “do you think your cute little hole can fit hannie?”
➼ you’d nod your head so fast you see stars
➼ “hmmm i don’t know if you can…”
➼ you were used to this exchange and teasing now, but a whine still escaped your lips
➼ “aigoo..is my baby all pouty now? let me make you feel good then..”
➼ absolutely would talk to you and coo at you while being balls deep in you
➼ when you try to respond, he’d snap his hip back into you just so he can make fun of how you can’t talk
➼ knows how to make you cum. like KNOWS how to make you cum.
➼ he knows the right speed and the right amount of pressure to apply to your cute little clit that has you arching your back and moaning his name
➼ likes to edge you too. this mfer is mean!!
➼ expect your orgasm to take you to another dimension when he lets you cum after torturing your hole
➼ isn’t the biggest sub but wouldn’t mind you being on top every now and then
➼ would be so proud of you when you grind your hip just the way he likes it because HE taught you that!!!
➼ “awww my little baby…you make me feel so good”
➼ “you’re doing so good baby”
➼ this man changes personalities when he’s about to cum though…
➼ one hand holding your wrists by your chest, the other hand grabbing your hip
➼ he’d fuck into you mercilessly, his sweet persona slipping
➼ your uncontrollable moans would fall from your lips, as you made eye contact with his eyes that were much darker now - pupils fully dilated, sweat dripping down his forehead
➼ “shhh..baby, fucking take it. i know you can take it”
➼ “you want me to cum in this sweet little pussy of yours? want hannie to breed you?”
☆ ride the d!ck like a carnival . . ! ft. jeonghan.
☆ content. jeonghan x fem! reader. just jeonghan satiating his needs in backseat of your car. ☆ tags. unprotected sex, riding, semi-public sex? menace jeonghan, creampie, nipple stimulation. ☆ wc. 0.7k+
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !
“i hate–hngh–you!”
a light giggle falls out of his lips at your words. because your actions say the opposite. you sink down, engulfing his entire length with your heat before lifting your hips again. you’re riding him with all that you’ve got while jeonghan’s simply enjoying the show.
“aw, you do?” a faux pout forms on his lips, hiding his lazy smirk. lust and enamour swirls in his eyes and god, he’s looking at you with those fuck me eyes. of course, you can’t resist him, “no, no. i don’t mean it.”
“i know, baby.” he slides his hands down to your ass, groping them harshly with a smack or two. a soft sigh leaves his chest as he leans back on the backseat of your car. desperation and annoyance fills you again.
what was supposed to be a cute brunch date ended up in you riding his cock in your car like your life depended on it. and that most infuriating part is how jeonghan is simply watching you without helping. he’s so relaxed while you’re fighting for your life on his cock.
he knows it. he knows that you’re annoyed and horny. even though he’s the one that slipped his hands up your dress, you’re the one satiating him. unfortunately for you, jeonghan gets all hard and twitchy when you’re mad and frustrated during sex.
he strokes your waist, fingers fluttering against your sensitive spots. the tickling sensation causes you to lose your sense of rhythm. he pushes your dress up further, shifting his gaze towards where your bodies are connected. your cunt hugs his length with a grip that makes him breathless.
beads of sweat run down the side of your face. your hair is all ruined, makeup smudged and dress creased, thanks to the courtesy of your boyfriend. your walls flutter around his cock, sending shivers down his spine.
jeonghan goes cross-eyed when he notices your hard nipples poking through the thin material of your dress. he hooks his finger under the sweetheart neckline, pulling down the cloth till your breasts pop out. your breasts bounce right in front of his face, tempting him to wrap his lips around your pebbled nipples.
you let out a soft gasp, feeling his warm mouth around your sensitive bud. his tongue circles the bud, feeling the ridges of your areola. he flicks the bud gently, and sucks on it. you grind your hips harder, chasing the release you so badly want.
his hand travels down your stomach to your cunt. you reach your breaking point when his fingers brush against your clit, soft enough to rile you up but not hard enough to satiate you.
your hands fly to grab his hair as you gyrate your hips with a newfound desperation. it elicits a groan from him, delighted from the slight pain of you pulling his hair. your other hand wraps around his throat, squeezing the sides ever-so-lightly. jeonghan smiles—he fucking smiles.
“you’re so hot when you’re mad, babe.”
you rock your hips harder, pushing out the energy you have left in your body. the car rocks in sync with your rhythm. anyone who walks past can figure out what you’re up to in a single glance. but that doesn’t stop you from fucking him harder and harder.
a string of curses falls from his lips. he moans unabashedly, wordlessly letting you know he’s nearing his climax. you quicken your pace with the energy you have left. he squeezes your hips, face scrunching with pleasure. a needy look graces his eyes.
an evil thought conjures up in your mind. you can stop now, leaving him high and dry. a lick back for all times he was mean to you.
but you can’t. even if your mind tells you to stop, your body won’t. and the needy look in his eyes sets your body on fire. he’s looking at you as if you hung all the stars in the sky. his face tints red, mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ as he moans to his heart’s content.
his cock flutters inside you, hips bucking into yours. he’s close. with another harsh thrust, you stop. he cums in an instant, white strings of release flooding your cunt. you kiss his forehead, looking down at him with adoration.
his hips still move against yours, trying to ride out his high. he moans rather cutely, grinding against you as his cum slowly drips down from your hole.
“i can’t believe you made me ride you in the car at fucking 11 in the morning,” you mutter, breathlessly. “and i didn’t even cum!”
you try to hit his shoulder but he catches your wrist, looking at you with the same unsatiated lust. “who said we’re done?”
thirty-one days. thirty-one cravings. thirty-one ways to lose yourself. from the softness of sleepy touches to the sting of tears down flushed cheeks, from the chaos of monsters clawing at your skin—this is where your darkest fantasies awaken. this is where desire answers back. this is where you unleash.
⤷ kinktober 2025 taglist — open !
⤷ permanent taglist — open !
⤷ warnings — minors strictly do not interact. this collection contains explicit sexual content, graphic smut, and mature themes. by proceeding, you confirm you are 18+ and comfortable with dark, taboo, and potentially triggering material. read responsibly.
♱ day 1 — somnophilia with jungwon
♱ day 2 — dacryphilia with seonghwa
♱ day 3 — mirror sex with heeseung
♱ day 4 — overstimulation with soobin
♱ day 5 — edging with ni-ki
♱ day 6 — semi-public sex with jeonghan
♱ day 7 — praise kink with taehyun
♱ day 8 — ritual sex with sunoo
♱ day 9 — size kink with ni-ki
♱ day 10 — hair pulling with beomgyu
♱ day 11 — choking kink with joshua
♱ day 12 — face riding with san
♱ day 13 — sensory deprivation with jay
♱ day 14 — power play with yunho
♱ day 15 — birthday sex with heeseung
♱ day 16 — rough sex with jay
♱ day 17 — oral sex with wonwoo
♱ day 18 — food play with jake
♱ day 19 — temperature play with sunghoon
♱ day 20 — thigh riding with yeosang
♱ day 21 — monsterfucking with jungwon
♱ day 22 — phone sex with ni-ki
♱ day 23 — breeding kink with heeseung
♱ day 24 — cockwarming with sunoo
♱ day 25 — shower sex with jay
♱ day 26 — heat/rut sex with jake
♱ day 27 — aphrodisiac sex with sunghoon
♱ day 28 — exhibitionism kink with mingyu
♱ day 29 — voyeurism kink with mingi
♱ day 30 — corruption kink with heeseung
♱ day 31 — threesome with heeseung and jungwon
.‧₊࿐ AFTER DARK SERIES ( extras )
⤷ where lust lingers past midnight, where sins are sharper, dirtier, and far too tempting to resist. these are the secrets that never see the light of day—the ones whispered, clawed, and fucked out of you when the night is at its darkest.
yoon jeonghan from seventeen <3
"I get wet at the thought of you, being a responsible guy. treating me like you're supposed to do. tears run down my thighs."
track 2 of the man's best friend series found here
after a spree of failed first dates, y/n didn't have any high hopes. until she says yes to a blind date set up by her best friend who actually found better than she could imagine... her old high school crush. who is still gorgeous, charming & most importantly so respectful. a true man of service.
word count: 6.4k
warnings: smut with a lil plot !!, slight voyeurism, a tiny bit of pet play, sir kink, jeonghan is possessive & loves leaving marks everywhere on reader's body, overstimulation, creampie, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), p in v, no protection being used (pls wrap it), 69ing, cum tasting, missionary, reader has a pain kink, jeonghan is a biter & muncher, multiple orgasms ... like a lot
You stand alone outside a restaurant way too fancy and out of your price range, on the phone with your best friend, your other hand rubbing your bare arms from how cold it was. You had to make sure this was the right place. It adds up why she made you wear the fancy black cocktail dress with a slit on your leg that was saved for special occasions, but who in the world did your best friend know to afford such a place. You can't think of any.
"I promise you, it is the right place." she reassured for the fifth time.
"Oh my god... It's a sugar daddy, you set me up with an old man." you gasped, she laughs at the other end.
"No, I did not. Believe me Y/N. Just go inside and have a fun time, I swear he's a good guy. Reservation is under Yoon. Now go please. You're already late" She basically begs.
With that tone, you roll your eyes and bid your goodbye as you hear your friend cheer on the phone. You wonder why the reservation is under her last name, I guess she booked it for you both. How sweet.
When you enter the restaurant, it's loud and bustling. You sigh in relief that the place was at least warm, heaters blasting compared to outside. A man in a suit greets you with a book in his hand.
"Reservation?" He asks.
"Under Yoon." You reply and he scans down the book with a nod.
"Follow me"
You follow closely behind him, making sure to avoid the waiters who had food or drinks in their silver plated hands. In the corner is a man playing a grand piano and a woman playing a cello besides him, this was for sure the fanciest first date you've ever been on.
"Here is your table ma'am" The host announces. They move out the way so you could see who you were set up with for the night.
You gasp.
"Jeonghan?!" Your shocked voice rang through. He smiles at you then waves a hand at the host to tell him it's not needed to pull out your chair because you watch Jeonghan stand up and do it himself.
"Your seat Y/N" Jeonghan says.
You blush, not a lot of your first dates pull your chair out for you either. Especially when another (paid) person was already going to do so. You take your seat as he pushes it in and thanks the host, then takes the seat across from you. He shows no expression of being shocked as you currently are, like he knew it was going to be you on this date while you obviously did not. Now the reservation being under your best friend's last name makes sense.
Because your best friend, has just set you up on a blind date with her cousin. Her cousin that you had a huge crush on since the day you laid eyes on him.
You and your best friend have been in each other's lives since the very first day of high school, both entering a new school and finding comfort within each other that never became astray. You two were so close to the hip that you both had many sleepovers and attended each other's family events and this is where you met, your first ever crush that wasn't a celebrity (until later). Yoon Jeonghan.
It was just a silly crush that your best friend liked to tease you about. Nothing serious especially because of his celebrity status but he was nice, funny and out of this world beautiful. Everyone could see it, his charm oozed out of him and you were a part of the crowd that fell for it. You never told him, neither did your best friend because what was the point? You kept your cool around him until the night ended and you were in your best friend's bedroom fangirling as she teased you.
Your meetings with him were because of your attachment to your best friend, the attachment causing you two to be intertwined and easily part of each other's families. So it made you believe he probably looked at you like family as well (or so you thought). You hadn't seen Jeonghan in years though, with the rise of Seventeen and their busy schedule. His attendance for family events became less and less. With his absence and growing up in general, your first ever crush faded. Up until now.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊
You've never had such a fun time for a first date. Usually experiencing awkward first level getting to know each others; instead the fancy meals and shared desserts were long gone as you both laughed and conversed over nostalgic stories of the past and getting to know each other deeply on a new adult level instead of the two young kids you both were. With the second bottle of wine now being completed as he poured it into your glass, the once bustling restaurant only had the two of you and one other couple further away. The piano man and cello woman in the corner long gone.
You took another gulp, you were tipsy, almost to the brink of drunk and it was getting pretty obvious just by the heat on your face and the fact you were ready to ask the one question that's been on your mind the whole time.
"So, Mr Yoon Jeonghan" you proclaim.
"Yes, Miss Y/Full/N" he replies back, you smile.
"Can I ask how this was set up? You didn't seem as shocked to see me like I was seeing you." You finally ask.
"Ah.. Well, you know how it was Uncle's birthday at your best friend's house last weekend? Yeah I was there, finally had free time to see the family and I guess my disappointment for your absence was so noticeable that your best friend couldn't stop poking at it and I admitted it. I wanted to see you." Jeonghan explained.
He laughed at your shocked expression, though it was clearly too late you still wanted to remain cool, mysterious and sexy. You grabbed your wine glass and leaned back on your chair with a smirk. Legs crossing over the other.
"So someone missed me?" You teased.
"I mean yeah, who else can I say all those silly jokes to and I would receive a pretty laugh and even prettier smile back." He says, so nonchalant like your face wasn't going to get any redder.
Before you could say anything else, the same man who sat you at your table stands in front of you both.
"I'm very sorry but I must walk you two out now as we are closing." He apologies and gestures to the restaurant around you two where the other waiters are now sweeping. You gasp realising the overstay.
"Yes, yes! Of course I'm so sorry!" You get up quickly and watch as Jeonghan apologies as well. Both of you, at the same time grabbing your own wine glasses to gulp the last bit of red wine and seeing how red face but synchronised the two of you were made both of you laugh.
While following the man out the door, you see Jeonghan send a quick text and place his phone in his pocket. Once you're out of the restaurant with another thanks and apologies to the worker who shuts the door behind you two, your whole body shakes at the cold. Jeonghan seeing this quickly takes off his own jacket and wraps it around you.
"Oh stop! Now you're cold!" you almost shout as you attempt to take it off.
"I'm wearing a long sleeve and you're sleeveless, the car and my driver should be coming around soon as well. Would you like me to take you home?" He asks and explains.
You shake your head as a no, "I don't want to intrude, I can call an uber." You reply, going to unzip your purse to grab your phone.
Then a nice, sleek black car stops in front of you two. Jeonghan grabs your hand that was about to open your purse and leads you to the car, opening the back door for you and gesturing to get in.
"Please. It's for my comfort to see you get home safely." He continues to insist and you finally give in, getting in the car as he shuts the car door behind you while going around the other side. When Jeonghan is sat next to you in the backseat, the middle seat separating you two. You give the driver your address as the drive to yours starts.
"This is Minjun by the way, he's Seventeen's driver when we drink too much but drove there. Our company insisted that it was too risky to use the designated driver services restaurants have or taxis so the company has its own for us." He explained, you see Minjun nod through the mirror as a hello and you do the same back.
"So this is your car?" you ask, looking around slightly. It was an expensive car for sure and Jeonghan takes care of it well.
"Yeah it is, it's like my baby. Just sucks I barely get to use it though." He says with a scratch to the back of his neck.
"Did you use it to drive to the family party?" You ask and he nods.
"I had to give the family the whole tour and yet, the person I wanted to impress the most wasn't even there." He confesses and you blush knowing he meant you.
"Jeonghan, I liked you when you were still a teenager with that bob cut that reminded me of young Justin Bieber. You don't need to do much to impress me." You ramble, but as you turn your head to look at him. It was the first time the whole night he looked shocked.
You were confused. "Oh as if you didn't know, it was so obvious!" you insist and he only shook his head as a no.
"You liked me all the way back then?" He almost shrikes.
"From the very first day I met you. You were like, my first ever crush" you confessed with a hint of confusion in your tone. Your best friend obviously noticed and so did her parents, so as embarrassing as it was, you thought he knew too.
Before Jeonghan could respond, Minjun from the driver seat coughs. You look out the window and see your home, you reach out to open the door.
"Wait, let me get the door for you." Jeonghan says as he opens his own door and walks over to open yours. Reaching a hand for you to grab as you still wear his jacket. He shuts the door behind you when you stand and both of you walk to your front door. Still hand in hand.
"Thank you for tonight... Did you want to..." You stammer out, gesturing to the door but he only smiles and nods a no.
"I think we both had too much to drink angel, I wouldn't want to take advantage of you at all." Jeonghan reassures while using his thumb to stroke your hand.
The way he said it, the overall respect and care for you while realising this was the first date in ages that clearly didn't just want to get in your pants to the point they deny an invitation (and you don't give it out a lot). You felt weak, almost like the young teenager who saw Jeonghan for the first time.
"Can I kiss you though?" Jeonghan suddenly asks, you snap out of your daze with a nod. Maybe a bit too eager but he didn't care and quickly brings you in close with one arm around your waist and a hand on the side of your neck to kiss you.
Oh teenager you could never imagine this happening, and even if you did, it would not be nowhere near as magical as this felt. The way both your lips moved made all the most sense, Jeonghan was a good fucking kisser and the red wine only added so much more to it. The kiss was reaching making out territory and you knew it, so you pressed your body into Jeonghan to signal how badly you wanted him right there. It made him seperate the kiss with an aching sigh, leaning his forehead onto yours as both of you caught your breaths.
"Baby, if we keep going I'm going to accept your invitation and I can't with how much I like you. I need to see you again. Soon." He whispers with a hint of desperation.
You felt the exact same way.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊
Needing the opinion of the person you trusted the most, you stand taking mirror pictures of yourself in black lingerie and hoping it does your body justice. You were getting ready for your second date with Jeonghan, the constant texting for the last two weeks made you more excited for the night to come. Especially the texts that were on the brink of sexting. The attraction from the both of you were undeniable and it would be a straight up lie to say that you haven't gotten yourself off to the thought of him. Which made you feel so dirty with how respectful Jeonghan has been to you the whole time. With the haze of excitement, you finally send the mirror pictures to your best friend.
5:20pm :
ok ik this is weird to ask bc hes your cousin but is this hot enough? might not happen but maybe being prepared will manifest it to happen tonight #needhim
2 images attached
You place your phone down and put on the black dress you had prepared, this time a mini body con dress still appropriate for a fancy dinner. The choice of black once again was your remembrance of him slipping that black was a good colour on you, hence why the black lingerie as well. When you hear your phone alert you of a text, you run quickly to answer it after finally successfully zipping your dress up.
5:25pm : from yoon jeonghan
I'm not (your best friend name) but that is more than hot enough.
Your eyes grew wide, oh there's no fucking way you did that.
5:26pm : to yoon jeonghan
Holy shit, please forget I sent that this is so embarrassing.
5:27pm : from yoon jeonghan
Hard to forget, but I will for you.
Also not embarrassing at all.
I'll be there to pick you up in 20 minutes, is that okay?
You react with a thumbs up, plopping backside on your bed with a groan.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊
The night consisted of this. A drive that started off torturous with your embarrassment eating you alive but Jeonghan being Jeonghan made you feel comfortable only after a few minutes in.
Dinner was amazing once again, you asked him how he always knows the best places to eat and he confessed that he asked around for the best date spots. He only had one glass of wine and you had one cocktail, it was evident how both of you wanted the night to end. Him joking, slightly joking but probably entirely serious that he wanted to be completely sober and remember everything with you.
Now it was finally the drive back, the sexual tension in the air was thick that it was eating you alive as both of you hummed to what was playing on the radio. Though you two were holding hands, you were fighting a war in your brain to just move both your hands to your thigh and see if he raises it. Watching him drive with one hand made you imagine what else he can do with his fingers, with you specifically.
"Can I be honest with you?" Jeonghan utters, you don't miss the grip on the car wheel get tighter.
"Of course" You answer back ignoring the lump in your throat.
"I care about you so much, for a long time now. I don't want you to think I'm a pig... But I've spent the whole night thinking about those photos you texted me." He vents.
You let go of your joint hands just to grab his wrist and lead it inside your dress for him to feel the wet patch through your underwear. Already stopping at the traffic light, he looks at you, mouth slightly open at the side of his hand disappearing and feeling the tip of his fingers being wet.
With full eye contactn and confidence, you finally say
"Jeonghan, if you don't take me back to my place and fuck me like you've been wanting to. I'll be so upset."
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊ nsfw below
Eager mouths and bumping into walls was all that was heard in your lovely home. Hands ravaged each other as one by one clothes were taken off before even reaching the bedroom door. By the time you kicked it open as he shut it behind you two, you were left in the black lingerie you sent him and Jeonghan in only his pants. Your window was closed but curtains were open, making your room not completely pitch dark and it gave Jeonghan the opportunity to break the heated kiss to finally take a look at you. Though the lingerie was black, it was practically see through with only lace around your tits and pussy. Most importantly, your drenched laced panties pussy.
"You are fucking beautiful" he breathlessly complimented. It made you not want to shy away your body for once as he placed his mouth on your still covered up tits, all at the same time using his large hand to cup your pussy through the fabric. Thumb circling on your clit and the friction of the fabric made it all more delicious. You gasp loudly at the overstimulating pleasurable feeling. His mouth stops his torture once his purpose of your laced bra being as wet as your underwear is all done.
"You're so wet for me princess, did I do this? Without even properly touching you?" Jeonghan taunts and you whimper while nodding.
"Use your words." He orders.
"Yes sir." You reply.
The sir slipping out only made Jeonghan secretly buckle.
"Such a good girl, already knows what to say without me telling her. Your sir's good girl, aren't you?" He asks.
"Yes sir, I'm your good girl."
The car lights from someone driving past wakes you up and you turn to look at the window but before you could even offer or walk to close the curtains you hear a tsk from Jeonghan.
"Keep it open, they should see you belong to me."
As he sits on the edge of the bed, he uses two fingers to usher you to come towards him. By animalistic instinct you get on all fours and crawl to where he sat, Jeonghan can't hide the smirk on his face. You're perfect. How your minds feel linked with how you abide by what he wants without even knowing... He would never push you to do anything you're uncomfortable with but he can't hide his content that you two share the same kinks.
He tilts your head forward with two fingers below your chin, you lift your face up by his actions.
"Can I tell you what I want to do to you?" Jeonghan announces, you nod.
"I want to make you cum as much as you can handle until you're shaking. Want to see how much I can push this pretty body and mark it mine. Is that okay?" He explains, the fact he asks for consent as well... You feel your pussy get even more wetter, to the point it feels it's reached down your thighs.
"Yes sir, please ruin me. I'm all yours." You beg.
With that, all he did was pick you up and place you on the bed next to him. You squeal at how easy it was for him to do so, the cute noise coming out of your mouth making Jeonghan kiss your cheek softly, the last cute action he'll probably do for the night as he lays you down softly. Your head hitting your pillows as he's above you.
"I'm so obsessed with you princess" he quietly admits, but you catch it and it makes you kiss him eagerly. He slips his tongue in your mouth and you know there's no point in fighting for dominance because he'll win anyways. You feel his hands grip your wrists that lay on each side of your body, his mouth now travelling down to your neck placing both a mix of sweet kisses, bites and all together devouring your neck that it makes you grind up into nothing. He snickers at your desperation, lifting his leg higher that was kneeled between your legs to give you friction. You moan as your eyes travel backwards. "Grind on my knee baby girl while I mark you" Jeonghan orders and you do exactly so.
You felt so restraint but so hot all at the same time, body panting as you feel Jeonghan's lips on your breasts as his hands grip your wrists even tighter. The rough friction of your lace panties and his pants making you desperate for more. You hiss when you feel his teeth bite into your chest, he does it multiple times and you love it. Finding out that Jeonghan is a man of his word and was not joking when he said he wanted to mark you up.
You feel his lips move downward, a trail of his wet tongue in it's wake even poking your belly button as you squeal and fidget (but not too much as his hands were still around your wrists that were pinned at the side of your body). He realises he loves every sound that comes out of your mouth, you sigh in relief once you feel the cool air hit your pussy from his teeth bringing your laced underwear down to your ankles, letting go of one of your wrists for a quick second to toss the underwear behind him.
One tongue swipe made you lift your hips up to his face to grind as he tsked, releasing the same wrist to hold your thighs down. He stares up at you with a glare in his eyes "Patience princess." he orders. As punishment, his lips move to your inner right thigh instead, so so close to where you needed him as his hair brushes against it instead. With his arm still pushing down your left thigh, he moves his thumb to rub onto your clit all while still leaving marks. The sensation was new to you, lips on your inner thighs when you barely get someone to eat you out as it is. The sting from the bites he leaves only makes you more aroused, he uses the same hand that was rubbing your clit to now have one finger in you. The intrusion making you sigh in relief.
"Fuck, that feels so good" this moan of a sentence followed with a scream when Jeonghan at the same time bites your thigh and slips in another finger. You can feel his grin once he realises the clench between his fingers when pain strikes you and to further test it, he bites into your thigh again, you groan at the teasing as his fingers go faster. He alternates his mouth to leaving hickies on both your inner thighs as his fingers continues to thrust into you.
"Jeonghan I'm going to c-cum" you announce, he nods still leaving as much hickies as he can make and curling his fingers for your release. You do, with your back arched and hands gripping his hair to keep you steady. Your panting by the end of it, his lips finally release from your skin to watch you and put his fingers in his mouth to taste you. You watch his every move, biting your lip as you see him blissfully close his eyes and a smile form on his face. Once he releases it with a pop, he's back to lying stomach down on the bed. Arms now wrapped around both your thighs. Before you even tell him that you're still sensitive, he dives in to eat you out. His eyes never leaving you to see your reaction.
Truth be told, the taste of you on his fingers were not near enough. You tasted so sweet and heavenly, he could eat you out for hours and maybe he would because even his impatience got the best of him, not even warning you before diving in. As you looked down your eyes rolled back to your head seeing how deep he was. His nose resting on your clit as his eyes never left yours, his mouth making out with your pussy as his tongue drew figure 8s in your hole. His arms being wrapped around your thighs were putting pressure on the hickies he placed and though you initially hissed at the pain, it added onto the pleasure.
As you didn't get a break between your last orgasm and the fact Jeonghan's mouth is the best you've ever had, you came once again. Despite the sensitivity, Jeonghan didn't leave his spot and tasted every drop that came out of you. It took you using your own hands to push his head away to get him to stop, his eyes showing displeasure from this move but still letting you take a breath anyway. Body panting as he rubbed soothing circles on your hips.
"Thank you sir" you said, he only laughed in response.
"I'm not done with you angel and you're not pushing my head away to stop. If you really want me to, the safe word is pink. Understand?" he commanded,
With a gulp. You only nodded, his eyes were stern.
"Words princess." he responded.
"Yes sir." You replied
That's all it took for him to dive back in his favourite meal as you grip onto the sheets beside you to attempt to steady yourself for the long night that's about to come.
Jeonghan has been so giving to you, you scream as you cum from his mouth for the nth time. Your body was sweaty and you were so wet that it was leaking into your thighs, but no cum was being wasted not when he was addicted to the taste of it. Jeonghan alternated with you cumming on his mouth or fingers or both, you hadn't used your safe word and you don't see yourself doing so anytime soon but one thing was for sure you needed his cock. He currently had his tongue flickering your bud as three fingers vastly thrusted in you, the pink in your face was from the intense orgasms but also the slight embarrassment that your slick created such a prominent sound in the room that the movement of his fingers were so loud.
With still his fingers in you, Jeonghan came up to kiss your mouth and you accepted him. Humming at the taste of your cum and juices all over his lips and chin. Breaking apart when he heard the noise from your mouth, he grinned.
"See, even you know how delicious you are. How can I stop tasting you, could do this for hours baby." He proclaimed, you whined and nodded your head as a no. The shock of his face evident but with one hand you start touching him through his pants.
"I want to taste you too sir, please. And you can still taste me too, at the same time" You begged but also asked, his eyes gleamed.
He stands up from the bed to put his pants down. Though you had multiple orgasms, the sudden emptiness in your pussy made it clench. You drool at the sight of his hard cock that leaked of precum. Without him even asking you; you repositioned your body to be lying landscaped on the bed. Your lower legs hanging over on one side as your head is half still on your mattress and slightly hanging on the other side where your eyes are met with Jeonghan's cock. He has a million questions circling in his head, the slight possessiveness of him wondering if you've done this with someone else or had just had fantasies of it like he did (it's the latter) as you knew exactly how to position yourself without him asking or moving you as he planned.
He strokes your cheek but hisses feeling your lips touch his leaking tip, you hum at tasting his cum and smile seeing how sensitive he already is.
"You can't use your words angel, so do anything with your hands to hurt me. Scratch me if it gets too much alright? It's okay and we'll stop straight away." He vocalises. Though he was dominant, the constant need of wanting to reassure you made your heart do summersaults.
You nodded as a response and took more of his cock in your mouth as Jeonghan shimmied more closer, he could watch you forever. Groaning seeing the outline of his cock in your throat as you go deeper but as much as he loved the sight, he needed to taste you again even more. Moving his body downwards, he wrapped his arms around your inner thighs, elbows on the bed as he dove back into your pussy and it had you automatically moaning around his cock. The vibration adding more pleasure to him that his nails dug into your already laid with hickies thighs.
Both of you were engulfed in each other, Jeonghan closely hovering over you that he could lay on your body if his elbows gave in. It was overwhelming but you couldn't resist it. You wanted more and you got more. Though you've always wanted to do this, there wasn't anyone you trusted enough to ask. Until Jeonghan.
You swirled your tongue around Jeonghan's cock as he thrusted into your mouth, all your senses were him, mouth full of drool over his cock and your lips. Jeonghan lapped at your clit, the position having him closer to your bud as he continuously drew figure 8s and stuck his tongue in your hole. Having his cock in your mouth only added more pleasure to you, usually being able to control your hips you couldn't this time as you basically humped his face and he loved it. Knowing his face was coated in your juices while his cock was in your mouth drove Jeonghan to his orgasm quicker than he ever had, so engulfed in eating your pussy he came in your mouth without warning.
The mix of his sweet cum going down your throat as he groaned into your pussy and added pain onto your thighs because of gripping them tight made you cum at the exact same time. Not wanting to overwhelm you any further, Jeonghan quickly stood up and released his cock out of your mouth to watch you swallow. With your vision back you looked up to make eye contact with him as you swallowed his cum. Exactly what he wanted to see.
He stands there in silence for a few seconds, huffing and catching his breath while stroking your hair. It makes you reposition yourself from lying down to sitting up with your back legs tucked under your bum. He doesn't miss you squeezing your inner thighs while doing so, seeing you in all your glory. Doe like eyes staring up at him waiting for his next move, you were so beautifully perfect for him. He grabs your face to kiss you as a response, the sudden movement surprising you and it's at this moment Jeonghan truly realises he wants to forever keep surprising you with kisses full of the passion he has for you.
When the kiss broke, he orders you to lay back down with your head in the pillows like last time. You ask him to fuck you raw and he chokes on his own saliva, you giggle seeing his dominance quiver.
"Are you sure baby?" He asks
"I trust you, I'm on the pill and want to feel every bit of you."
Jeonghan could not get on the bed fast enough, you spread your legs to practically welcome him. Cock already hard again, he slaps it against your pussy lips, your pussy still coated with juices and so wet that it already coated his cock. He grabbed your left leg to put it over his shoulder as he finally thrusted in, he was only half way but still had to close his eyes to steady himself.
You truly were perfectly made for him.
"I want all of it sir, please" you beg below him, one hand now gripping on his other shoulder. Of course, he obliged. Sinking himself fully in, you arch your back feeling the fullness and grit of his cock.
His pace begins to fasten, making you moan out loud.
"Fuck, feels so good sir, more, more" You continue to almost chant, his pace fastening once again as he grips on your leg tighter and the other hand on the headboard above you. Though the pleasure was also overwhelming him, his eyes never left watching you. The way your tits bounced, the faces of pleasure and noises you made. He loved every bit of it.
Jeonghan shifted his hips a bit and that slight movement made him find the spot you needed, making you scream and grip his shoulder tighter. "Oh my god! Oh my fucking god there, there!" Throwing your head back, mouth gaping and eyes closing.
"Open your eyes, look at me baby" he panted out an order.
Wanting to please him, you open your eyes again despite the pleasure being overwhelming that you felt your senses losing it.
"Good girl" he compliments, he feels your pussy tighten at the words.
"My baby likes that? Likes being called good girl?" he taunts with a smile, you could only whimper as response. Feeling your stomach tighten again, "sir I-" you start.
Jeonghan nods "I know, let go baby" and you do exactly so. His pace stills as you cum around his cock and so you can catch a breather. You appreciate this, because you have no idea how many orgasms Jeonghan has pulled from you tonight but it's catching up to you. Feeling your eyes slightly flutter and droop, he catches this. Automatically pulling out which makes you whine from the emptiness.
"No, no sir I can take one more I swear please want to make you cum. Have your cum in me please, please" you babble as you reach for him to come back.
He wants to ask again if you're sure but the way your eyes stare at him and the way your arms are already around his neck to pull him closer says enough. He thrusts into you slowly, you wrap your legs around him and usher him to go faster and that it's okay.
It was all Jeonghan needed to go back to his old fast pace, you sigh happily and moan at the feeling. Your cum adding another layer around his cock and the way you lifted your hips to meet his thrusts made his eyes roll to the back of his head.
He drops his head into your shoulder, whispering how he's going to cum, your needy and begging response mixed with your moans of "cum in me sir, please I want it so bad." was all it took for him to go over the edge.
The warm feeling of his cum painting you white and how he bit your shoulder made your sensitive cunt reach its final orgasm of the night. Feeling this, Jeonghan felt more of his load shoot into you. He doesn't recall ever having such a powerful orgasm before, like he's said all night you were truly made for him and this was the final telling that he needed you forever.
In the position for a few minutes with heavy pants and soft kisses on the lips between you two, you finally unwrap your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, as Jeonghan's cock left your pussy he watched the mix of his load and your cum spill out. A sight that he'd never forget. Jeonghan goes to stand up to get you cleaned up but you pull his arm to come back.
"I'm just going to clean you up" he reassures you but you shake your head back and forth as a no, feeling yourself drift as it is.
"Just come cuddle please" You softly say and he can never say no to you, going back to lying in bed next to you and pulling you closer. Wrapping your legs around each other, he wrapped his arms around you and your head naturally laid on his chest.
"You're mine princess right?" Jeonghan asks, stroking your cheek as he feels your eyelashes fluttering on his chest as you fight against your tiredness taking over.
Nodding, "I'm all yours for as long as you want me" You respond, feeling his lips kiss your forehead as you go to sleep. The last thing you hear him say "You're mine and I'm yours forever."
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊
Going outside your bedroom, the new morning light making you rub your eyes. You're shocked to see a shirtless Jeonghan wearing only his briefs sitting on your living room floor assembling the Ikea shelf you bought for said room that you've been procrastinating on doing so.
Sneaking up behind him, you kneel down and wrap your arms around his body. "What are you doing?" you muffled on his bare shoulder giving it a quick kiss.
"I saw this while getting myself water and I thought why not do it for my baby, her hands have way more important things to do than this." He turns his head, sucking in a breath when he realises you're only wearing his button up white top from last night that consumed you like a dress.
He spun himself around making you squeal as you were suddenly on his lap, Jeonghan groans feeling you bare on his briefs. Lifting the top up slightly to see you with no underwear and most importantly already getting his briefs wet as he teases a finger to your clit.
"Already wet and I haven't even done anything?" Jeonghan teases.
You groan, "I get wet at even the thought of you Yoon Jeonghan."
bias - ( @wooahaes ) fluff, slice of life, vernon idol!au, you make the cats choose their svt bias, IT SO WHOLESOME :((((((((
mr. nice guy - ( @toruro ) smut, next door neighbor!joshua au, I HATE HIM skfffkjs this got me blushing and shit, he cosplays as a gentleman but he´s actually just a flirty nasty mf
confession - ( @nonranghaes ) bf!shua, fluff, slice of life, this is so cute sldfjshldjfkh
You Know What They Say About Men With Big Feet - ( @hansols-yoda-boxers ) smut, big feet, big nose, big muscles and a big dicc YUPPPPPP, seokmin has it ALL
2am conversations - ( @wqnwoos ) bf!jeonghan, slice of life, “what if crabs think that fish can fly?” “angel, it’s two in the morning,” sdkhfksb it´s cute :(((( so domesticc
the long way - ( @trblsvt ) model!jeonghan, staff!reader, UGGHHDSLHFLSKH i love this, he´s so confident and lowkey straight forward
tinted windows - ( @duhnova ) smut, ceo!hannie, panty ripper,, literally, car sex, “sir you have a meeting in twenty minutes.” “fuck that stupid meeting, i have more important things to be doing right now.” IT´S GOOD YALL
poker match - ( @hoshifighting ) smut, sub!hannie, dom!reader, famous poker player!jeonghan, famous poker player!reader. he finally meets his match in every way. I LOVEEEDDD this, it´s such a fresh concept
night time questions - ( @wqnwoos ) bf!jeonghan, fluff, LEAVE ME ALONEEEEEE THIS IS SO CUTEEE :(((( had me giggling and crying at the same time
drunk and in love - ( @97-liners ) fluff, wasted!hoshi, him in his tiger patterned-shirt, asdkjasdh he´d deff be like this, he rants about how wonderfull you are to whoever got ears, so cute
lollipops and candy bars - ( @hansols-yoda-boxers ) smut, sub!hao, reader loves to tease, cute and innocent looking reader, hao needs help lmao, "Well, I finished off my lollipop a while ago, do you have anything else I could suck on?” SKLHDLFJHKLDJ wow
clingy - ( @tomodachiii ) hubby!gyu x pregnant!reader, fluff. so you want me to kms,,THIS IS THE FLUFFIEST PIECE I´VE READ THIS WEEK (っ °Д °;)っ ilysm
sweater paws - ( @duhnova ) smut, virgin!jeonghan. yeah so i fucking love this :D literally one of the best smut pieces out there fr, so so detailed
bad girls make good boys cry - ( @duhnova ) smut. virgin!joshua. pleeeassseeeee this is so gOODD, "first of all, you rode me till i cried" IKTR!!
reaction to their s/o appearing on going seventeen - ( @welcometomyoasis ) fluff, crack. LMAOOO i loved this sm
them accidentally ditching you on your bday - ( @hannieehaee ) angst, idol!ot13 if you know me you know i´m a wHORE for an angsty fic, it just hits a certain spot on my brain idk, and this is IT, i loved both parts
menace - ( @hannieehaee ) fluff, simp!jeonghan, when you´re the only one who can deal with him. mannn why is mingyu always the target lmao
fake dating? - ( @hannieehaee ) crack, fluff, suggestive, bff to lovers. nahhh this was too funny lmao, poor vernon
whipped - ( @gi4hao ) FLUFF, bf!wonu. this is so wHOLESOME and ihateit (not) :((((( plssssss its so cuteee
when you call them by their name - ( @emocheol ) sdkhskdhf this is too good, no them panicking
12:31 am - ( @hoasvuon ) bf!jeonghan, fluff. so...i´m so in love :´)
leave your message after the beep - ( @shuaraes ) angst, ex-bf!minghao, the way this is written,, how tf doesn´t it have at leAST 1000 notes??? its crazy!
› 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 dove 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 pineapple on pizza,” 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 pineapple on pizza,” 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! 🥺🩵
at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.
★ FEATURING; jeonghan x reader
★ WORD COUNT; 21k words
★ TAGS; princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, magic & fantasy, betrayal (not frm jh), angst, minor character death, blood and violence, smut (MINORS DNI)
★ NOTES; two years... it took me TWO YEARS to write this and post it AJAHDSFJSHFDGDF i am sorry? SO DEEPLY SORRY!?!?!? but that aside, this probably only starts to get more jeonghan-centric at the 10k word mark... OUGH..... i needed to do a lot of worldbuilding AHAHAHAHA BUT I PROMISEE it's for good reason!
this is part of the it’s complicated series.
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE
★ SMUT TAGS; vaginal fingering, making out in places where you shouldn't, semi-public sex (that's it for this part unfortunately...)
Your life changed forever on a Tuesday morning.
As a princess, your days were dictated by a perfectly curated schedule. Every hour accounted for, every moment neatly placed in a grid of expectations and duty. It should have felt restrictive for most girls your age. But not for you. You liked the structure. The routine gave your life shape and purpose. You didn’t have to wonder what the day might hold or scramble to meet your obligations. All that was required of you was to show up, shoulders squared, chin high, and play your part in the ever-charming production of royal daughterhood.
Mondays and Wednesdays were for lessons with your private tutor—arithmetic, magical history, the foundations of politics and diplomacy. Tuesdays and Thursdays belonged to physical training. Fencing and archery were your common favorites. Fridays were reserved for etiquette, where you were taught about flawless posture, graceful curtsies, and a hundred ways to say no without ever using the word. Meanwhile, weekends were for socializing, when nobles from Ancarra and beyond paraded their heirs and fortunes before the court like trinkets at market.
On this particular Tuesday, Changkyun’s form was sloppy—left shoulder too low, footwork too eager—and you exploited it mercilessly, driving him back across the mat with a flurry of perfectly timed lunges. He faltered on his retreat, lost his balance, and went down with a sharp oof before the tip of your foil points just shy of his collarbone.
You didn’t smirk, but it took effort.
Flat on his back, your fencing partner let out a groan and flung an arm over his eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Master Yesung. He’s turned you into a menace.”
“I’ve always been a menace,” you tell him, withdrawing your foil with a flick. “You’re just slow today.”
From the far end of the training hall, a low, throaty rumble of approval rolled across the floor like distant thunder. You glanced over your shoulder to find Reya lounging on the polished stone, tail twitching like he’s amused with your victory. The massive white tiger regarded you with half-lidded pride, resting his chin on his paws like the king he thinks he is.
Changkyun gave Reya a wary glance. “He still hates me.”
“He hates everyone,” you replied fondly. “Except me.”
You didn’t say the rest: that Reya is more than a pet. That you hadn’t tamed him—you found him, half-starved and snared by a hunter’s trap in the snowfields. That when your magic surfaced and it turned out you weren’t a fire-wielder, or a stormcaller like the other gifted scions of noble houses but simply a girl who could speak to animals: everyone acted like you’d been cursed with the art of babysitting.
That is not real magic, they said. It will never be useful in court.
So you honed your body instead.
Foil. Footwork. Form. You mastered it all, until no one dared question your worth out loud. And maybe Changkyun is the only person who ever looked at you without that shadow of disappointment on everyone’s faces when they thought you wouldn’t notice.
Your fingers brushed as you help him to his feet, and your heart lifts—
—just as Royal Advisor Siwon clears his throat.
The sound snapped through the air like a blade cracking on steel. You and Changkyun jump apart.
“Your Grace,” Siwon said, bowing deeply. His silver-rimmed spectacles gleam in the sunlight. “The king requests your presence. Immediately.”
You blinked. “I’m in the middle of training.”
“I’m afraid this takes precedence, Princess,” he told you with the faintest edge of regret in his tone. He’s always been considerate of your feelings. “The matter is… personal.”
Your stomach twisted at that.
Moments later, you pulled off your gloves, tucking them under your arm beside your training foil. Reya got up from his corner with a huff as he padded silently toward you, his presence at your heel like a silent question.
“I’ll return,” you told Changkyun, though you’re not sure you will.
The halls of the Castle of Ancarra were quiet at this hour, but never truly still.
Morning sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, spilling pools of color across the floor dancing faintly over the stone as if the palace itself breathed. The scent of blooming flowers drifted in through open archways from the garden courtyards beyond, clinging to the walls like perfume. Somewhere distant, you heard the faint hum of magic wards being tuned by the royal mages, that soft shimmering sound like glass being struck gently by wind.
You, on the other hand, smelled like sweat.
Each step echoed a little too loudly as you padded down the eastern corridor. Beside you, Siwon walked with his usual glacial calm, every inch the model of a court advisor. Reya prowled silently behind you, massive white paws silent against marble. His fur rippled like snowdrifts in motion, and his blue eyes tracked every passing flicker of movement with the lazy wariness of a predator who knew he had nothing to fear.
You squinted up at Siwon, who maintained his pace without so much as glancing at you. “You know, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to assume I’m dying.”
“I assure you, Your Grace,” he replied without inflection, “you are not.”
“Then I’m being exiled.”
“Also incorrect.”
“Then what is it?”
He gave a patient sigh, the kind adults always gave when they thought you were being childish. (You were fifteen, not five, but that never seemed to matter.) “It is not my place to say.”
You groaned. “That’s what you always say.”
“Because it is always true.”
“Can you at least tell me if I’m going to like it?”
“Some might consider it an honor.”
“...Will you make me one of those snowman figures with your frost magic to shut me up?”
Siwon glanced at you, startled but amused. “I thought you already outgrew those, Princess.”
You huffed, and Reya let out a rumble behind you—his version of agreement, no doubt. You didn’t like the way this was heading. Siwon’s face gave nothing away, as usual, and there’s no way to break through his defenses.
Rounding the corner near the west wing stairwell, you nearly collided with one of the younger palace maids, who let out a startled yelp and nearly dropped her stack of linens.
“Oh! Princess!” she gasped, eyes wide as saucers. “You’re still in your fencing kit?”
You look at her bizarrely. “Yes? It’s fencing day?”
Regardless, she looked horrified. “Your hair is all—your tunic—oh dear, you’re soaked. I-I’ll have the other attendants prepare a bath immediately. Do you want rosewater or lavender? I can call for your blue silks, or maybe—”
“She won’t have time for that,” Siwon interrupted mildly, stepping forward. “Her Highness is expected in the king’s study at once.”
The maid faltered. “Oh. I see. O-Of course.”
You offered a weak smile. “It’s fine. My father’s seen worse. Remember when Reya broke into the aviary and I spent half a council meeting covered in goose feathers? This can’t be worse than that.”
Behind you, your tiger gave a low, pleased chuff. You could feel his smugness. The maid tried to laugh politely but gave up halfway through. She curtsied and retreated with all the urgency of someone fleeing a burning room.
You scratched behind Reya’s ear absently as you continued walking with Siwon. “You’d think they’ve never seen sweat before.”
“You are a princess, Your Grace,” Siwon said. “The ideal princess does not perspire. She glows.”
“I’ll be sure to glow after I’m dead.”
Siwon did not react.
Which, of course, was the worst reaction of all.
He reached the grand oak door at the end of the corridor and knocked twice with the back of his hand, the sound deep and final before opening the door.
“After you, Princess,” Siwon said, and you stepped across the threshold, sweat-streaked and bracing yourself for the sentence that would ruin the rest of your youth.
The scent of ink and parchment greeted you first.
Not the cloying perfume of court scrolls but something plainer. Vellum stacked in rows, ink dried in the well, candle wax crusted in yellow pools on the old wooden desk. A fire smoldered low in the hearth, casting long shadows over the high shelves. A half-eaten plate of bread and cheese sat untouched near the window, forgotten beside a ledger the size of a paving stone.
Your father sat behind the desk, hunched over a thick sheaf of correspondence, pen stilled in his hand.
The King of Ancarra was not a large man, not like the kings in your history books who towered over battlefields in gleaming armor. He was wiry, silver streaking his dark hair while the creases at the corners of his eyes deepened not by age but by long nights and hard decisions. He looked up when you entered, and the tiredness in his face softened.
“Bug,” he said, smiling gently. “You’re here.”
As Siwon left you two your own devices, you bowed because you were expected to. But when you straightened, you didn’t hide the concern in your face. Not even that old, endearing nickname could dispel your unease.
“You look awful.”
He barked a tired laugh and set the pen aside. “Thank you, sweetling. That’s what every man longs to hear from his daughter.”
You stepped forward, Reya padding behind you with the faintest growl of warning. He never liked this room. Maybe it reminded him of confinement, or maybe he just hated the smell of parchment.
“You’re still doing all the ledgers by hand,” you said, eyeing the mountain of work.
Your father didn’t deny it. “Who else would?” His smile was wry. “The ministers mean well, but they’d outsource my soul if I let them. I trust my own hand better.”
You bit your lip. He’d always been like this—stubborn in his solitude, steadfast in his refusal to lean on others. Ever since your mother died, he’d carried everything himself. That day was etched into your life, even though you weren’t old enough to remember it. You were told she passed giving birth to you. That her last words were your name. Your father never married again, never even considered it.
Part of you always wondered if that was loyalty, or guilt.
You moved to stand beside him, your sweat-streaked fencing gear looking very out of place in the quiet glow of his study. “You could have waited for me to change.”
He gave a soft hum. “Didn’t want to waste time. I know how long it takes for you to pick a ribbon for your hair.”
You gave him a playful glare.
And then, his expression changed—just slightly. The weariness didn’t fade, but something settled in beside it. A sort of gravity you’d seen only a handful of times in your life.
He gestured to the seat across from him. “Sit. There’s something I need to tell you.”
The hairs at the back of your neck prickled, but you do as you’re told. Reya let out another disgruntled noise as he curled at your feet, frost blue eyes squared on your father. Shortly after sitting down, you folded your hands and straightened your spine like you’d been taught.
“Is something wrong?” you asked.
“...You’ve grown,” Your father’s fingers brushed across the parchment before him, as if searching for the words inside it instead of in his own mind. “Fifteen now. Three years left until you’re given the Dawning Crown.”
That doesn’t quite answer your question.
The Dawning Ceremony was a rite of passage for every member of Ancarran royalty. On your eighteenth birthday, the veil of childhood would be lifted. You’d stand before the court in ceremonial robes, swear your oaths beneath the kingdom’s banner, and receive the Dawning Crown—a silver circlet that marked your right to advise the throne, to lead, to inherit.
But something told you that wasn’t what the king summoned you for today.
“Yes,” you said warily. “What of it?”
Your father looked up at you then. His eyes—tired, kind, and quietly burdened—searched your face as if trying to memorize it before he said something you wouldn’t forgive.
“I’ve arranged a betrothal for you.”
Silence dropped between you like a stone into water, and it rippled in your chest. You blinked, as if you’d misheard. “What?”
“A betrothal,” he repeated gently. “To Prince Jeonghan of Seraphia. The engagement will be announced before the year’s end. You’ll be married once you both come of age.”
Your throat went dry as you sat there stiffly, the rest of your body frozen while your brain scrambled to catch up. Outside, you could hear the distant flutter of birdsong through the windows, absurdly cheerful for the moment. Reya stirred at your feet, sensing your shock.
“But…” You swallowed. “I thought I would— I thought I’d be able to choose.”
Your father’s face flickered with regret, but his voice was firm. “I did what I had to, bug. This alliance is necessary. Seraphia’s port routes feed half our inland trade. And their King trusts Jeonghan to succeed him one day. He’s… he’s a good boy.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Tried not to make a sound like a dying bird.
Jeonghan.
You remembered him only in flashes. A diplomatic visit when you were thirteen. A boy with moonlight hair and a smile made of silk and sunshine. All the noble daughters swooned while he bowed and kissed their hands like something out of a storybook.
But you saw it.
You saw the glint of amusement in his eyes when he flattered people just to watch them squirm. The flick of his wrist when he’d “accidentally” stepped on your dress train. The way he’d offered you a honeyed tart, only for you to discover it was filled with chili paste. Your lips had burned for hours.
You scowled. “I would’ve preferred his brother. Joshua at least has a soul.”
The king’s sigh was long and worn, as though he’d rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in his head and never found a version where it didn’t end with you furious.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” he said quietly. “But it’s what’s best. For the kingdom.”
You could feel the pressure in your chest start to swell—tight and hot and helpless. You shoved back from your chair, the legs scraping loudly against the polished floor. Reya’s ears flicked at the sound.
“So that’s it?” you demanded. “You marry me off to another kingdom and hope I forget everything I wanted? What about Ancarra? Who do you expect to rule when you’re gone, if I’m stuck in the next kingdom over with a husband I didn’t choose?”
Your voice rang louder than you meant it to, but once it started, it wouldn’t stop.
“Father, I’ve trained my whole life to help you. I’m learning about the laws, the politics, the treaties. I’ve fought and studied and bent over backwards to prove I’m not some fragile little girl just because my magic doesn’t shoot lightning out of my hands!” you sniffled, barely breathing with how much your throat feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. “And now you’re saying it’s all just... for decoration?”
Your father closed his eyes.
For a moment, the silence returned. Not heavy like before, but much more somber.
“You think I don’t want you here?” he asked, and your heart cracked at the roughness in his voice. “You think I haven’t dreamed of the day I’d see you on the throne beside me, crowned and proud, finally free to shape this kingdom with your own hands?”
The king stood behind his desk, and the gesture felt too slow for the weight of what he carried.
“You’ll still rule Ancarra in my place one day, bug,” he said, his voice low with weariness. “But I’ve seen the parts of you that mirror the worst of me. The way you shoulder everything on your own. The way you keep others at a distance, offering only what’s required and nothing more. I know that kind of loneliness. I’ve lived it. And I wouldn’t wish it on you.”
He looked at you then, and the weight behind his gaze was heavier than any crown.
“I’m not trying to chain you to another kingdom. I just want you to have someone by your side. Someone who sees you not as a sovereign, or a symbol, but as a woman. As a queen who doesn’t have to stand alone.”
You turned away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the anger from spilling out again. Just minutes ago, you’d been silently fretting over your father’s terrible habit of grinding himself into the ground—and now he was saying you were the same. That you’d inherited his loneliness like it was part of your bloodline.
Reya brushed against your side, his fur warm and solid as a low huff vibrated in his chest. You’re not alone, he said. I’m still here.
But the comfort didn’t dull the sting. It didn’t make the room feel any less like a cage.
“Please, bug,” he said softly, reaching across the desk to take your hands in his. His grip was warm, steady, and just a little too gentle. “I need you to trust me. Just for now.”
You looked at him—at the sleepless shadows beneath his eyes, the ink smudged into the creases of his fingers, the quiet burden he carried alone because he never let anyone close enough to share it. Your chest ached.
You nodded, once. “Just for now.”
Life went on, as it always did.
Your schedule remained unchanged—lessons, training, etiquette, more training. The castle walls stayed the same shade of honeyed stone, and the banners still rippled with the wind in Ancarran silver. No one treated you differently, but that was the worst part. The servants still curtsied, the guards still bowed, and Siwon still handed you your briefing scrolls with quiet efficiency. As if nothing had changed. As if your future hadn’t just been carved into stone.
But when you walked through the halls, people looked at you a little longer. Nobles smiled a little too kindly. Maids paused mid-task to whisper behind their hands.
Reya sensed the shift, too. He stayed closer than usual, his great striped head brushing your elbow when you walked, his breath warm at your back when you slept. His presence grounded you, but not even he could quiet the nervous churn in your stomach as the ceremonial dinner approached.
The Seraphian royal family arrived two days after the harvest moon. Their procession was the usual fanfare—banners and courtiers, guards in gilded armor, a fleet of pearl-dappled carriages led by plumed steeds. You watched it unfold from the balcony with arms crossed, ignoring the way your heart drummed harder when you spotted Jeonghan stepping out in gold-trimmed robes, his hair ink-black and tied back with a silken cord.
It used to be much lighter, didn’t it? Though there were always rumors about the eldest Seraphian prince—that he changed his hair as often as his wardrobe, either by spellcraft or cosmetics. You weren’t sure which unnerved you more.
The ceremonial dinner was held that evening in the Grand Marbled Hall. Candles glittered in every chandelier. The finest cutlery had been polished to mirror-shine. You were seated at the right of your father; Jeonghan sat directly across from you, grinning like this was all terribly funny.
For the sake of appearances, you were perfect. Pleasant and regal as you should be. You smiled when prompted, clinked your glass when toasts were made, and managed not to stab anyone with your fork. But once dessert had been cleared and the nobles began drifting into smaller pockets of conversation, you stepped away from the main table.
And, of course, Jeonghan followed.
“You’re brooding,” he said, appearing at your side like a shadow. “It’s a charming look on you, truly. Very mysterious, but also very tragic.”
“I’m resisting the urge to toss you into the fountain,” you said coolly, still upset over Reya being barred from the ceremonial dinner. Siwon claimed your tiger would terrify half the guests into fleeing back to their homelands, but honestly? That’s exactly where you want Jeonghan to be.
All of a sudden, Joshua materialized behind him with a sigh. “Brother, maybe you shouldn’t antagonize your future wife during the first dinner.”
The older boy raised an innocent brow. “I’m simply trying to get to know her better. It’s called bonding.”
“It’s called being a smug little shit,” you muttered, turning to Joshua. “Remind me again why they didn’t marry you off instead?”
“Because I’m only thirteen, Princess,” Joshua said with a rueful smile. “And unlike Jeonghan, I can’t talk my way out of anything. Or into it.”
Jeonghan pressed a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
This was what your interactions looked like for the next few years.
Time wore on in polished routines and reluctant familiarity. Your lessons deepened. You traded your fencing foil with a sword. Your council briefings grew longer. And through it all, the shape of your future loomed larger, carved into every careful glance from the court, every politely worded expectation.
Jeonghan visited often enough to fulfill duty, but never more than that. He was cordial in public, infuriating in private. He knew just how to smile at the other noble girls, how to offer a compliment sweet enough to make them blush. But never you.
You weren’t sure when it started to bother you.
He didn’t try to charm you. Didn’t send letters. Didn’t hover by your side during banquets or take your hand when music played. Instead, he teased you, irritated you, challenged you. When you dueled with the court trainers, he’d lean against a post with a smug grin and critique your footwork. When you won a mock debate in strategy lessons, he’d ask if you were aiming for tyrant or empress.
He wasn’t cruel. Just… completely uninterested.
And so, you mirrored him. Distant, cool, and unimpressed.
It was easier that way. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you preferred it like this—that it was better if neither of you cared. That way, when the Dawning Ceremony finally arrived, and the court crowned you with silver and called you queen-to-be, you wouldn’t look for him in the crowd. You wouldn’t hope he was watching. Wouldn’t wonder if he saw more than just a political pawn.
You were eighteen now. The veil of childhood had been lifted. The Dawning Crown gleamed in your reflection like a weight you’d only begun to feel.
The door creaked open behind you. Your stylists fell silent at once—one still halfway through pinning the final clasp on your ceremonial mantle. When they turned and caught sight of who had entered, they dipped into low bows, murmuring deferentially before excusing themselves in a flurry of silks and whispered footsteps.
You met your father’s reflection in the mirror.
He looked tired. Always did, these days. The strain of kingship lived in the soft slump of his shoulders, in the silver threading through his dark hair. But tonight, he wore a quiet pride that almost softened it.
“I still remember when you used to run barefoot through the garden, covered in dirt and insisting you’d seen a dragon in the clouds,” he said, his voice low and fond. “And now look at you.”
You turned to face him fully. The ceremonial robes felt heavier under his gaze—woven from Ancarran silver and river-blue silk, embroidered with threads that shimmered like starlight. The Dawning Crown had been nestled into your hair not ten minutes ago, and already it felt like a permanent weight.
“You’ve grown into a fine heir,” he went on. “The court respects you. The people speak your name with hope. I have no doubt you’ll rule even better than I did.”
The words landed gently, like feathers instead of stones, but you only offered a small nod. “Is that all, or did you come to deliver another surprise engagement?”
He huffed a laugh. “Not today.”
A shape lingered in the hall behind him. You turned toward the figure, and felt your spine straighten when he stepped inside. You recognized him immediately.
Lord Kwon Soonyoung of the River Quarter. Young for a noble, but sharp-tongued, quick-witted, and endlessly frustrating to the older lords who couldn’t keep up. He spoke boldly during court sessions, often to your quiet amusement. Not because he was reckless, but because his suggestions made sense. Because they weren’t rooted in pride or greed or tradition-for-tradition’s sake.
You could tolerate Soonyoung.
More importantly, Reya mirrored the same sentiment. Your beast stirred at your side but made no noise. His tail thumped once against the floor, and when Soonyoung reached out, Reya allowed him to touch his head—without biting or growling or snarling.
You blinked. “He never lets anyone do that. Not even the king.”
Soonyoung smiled faintly. “I bring very expensive jerky to council meetings.”
Your father gave a dry cough that might’ve been a laugh. “I thought it was time you had an advisor of your own,” he said, shifting his weight. “Someone who understands your vision. Who won’t cower, but won’t sabotage you either. You’ll still have access to the council, of course. But from now on, Lord Kwon will report directly to you.”
You glanced back at Soonyoung, one brow arching.
He inclined his head solemnly. “If you’ll have me.”
And despite the crown digging into your temples, despite the pressure mounting outside those palace doors, you found yourself almost relieved for once.
The kingdom held its breath as the sun dipped low behind the peaks of Ancarra, casting long shadows across the capital. From the grand plaza to the marble steps of the palace, thousands had gathered to watch you rise.
The Dawning Crown sat heavy atop your head—woven silver and moonstones, forged centuries ago for this moment. You wore it like you wore the future: unshaking, though it pressed against your every thought.
You stepped forward beneath the carved arch of the Grand Marbled Hall, every bell in the capital chiming at once. Your people stood below. Nobles flanked the raised pavilion. The wind caught your cape and made you look more like a figure from myth than flesh and blood.
Jeonghan, of course, was in the very front of the crowd, cloaked in Seraphian white and gold. His black hair fell loose tonight, ribbon tied lazily at the nape of his neck, and his expression is half amused, half something else. He didn’t look proud. He didn’t even look solemn. That damn prince simply looked like he was waiting for something only he knew the shape of.
You tore your gaze from him as the High Chancellor stepped forward.
His voice carried through the twilight air: blessing your name, your bloodline, your title. You bowed your head at the proper moment.
When it was your turn to speak, you found your voice more easily than expected. You spoke not just as a daughter, but as a queen-in-waiting. You spoke of duty, and legacy, and of your people—of Ancarra’s strength. The crowd answered with a roar.
And just like that, it was over. The stars blinked to life overhead. The music would begin soon. So would the toasts, the dancing, and the procession of noble flatterers lining up to be seen. But first—you slipped from the velvet crush of the crowd and found Soonyoung waiting just off the ceremonial steps, where the torchlight flickered low and Reya prowled like a sentinel in the dark.
He stiffened when he saw your expression. “Princess?”
You pulled him aside, away from the footmen and ladies-in-waiting, and met his eyes.
“You’re my advisor now,” you said, voice low but steady.
He nodded.
“Then this is your first task,” you whispered. “If you cannot stop my betrothal to Jeonghan… delay it. Months, years—I don’t care. Just buy me time. As much as you can.”
Soonyoung blinked. “And if they ask questions?”
“They won’t.” You stepped closer. “Because you’ll be clever. And because no one—not the council, not the court, not even my father—can know that it was me who told you.”
Your advisor hesitated only a moment longer.
Then he smiled, something sharp and wolfish. “Consider it done.”
Years passed like storms over open fields—loud, relentless, and gone before you could catch your breath.
Your title grew heavier with each passing season. Every month brought new scrolls to sign, new decisions to weigh, new nobles testing your patience and pretending not to. But by your side, always, was Soonyoung.
He proved himself more than just a quick wit and a clever tongue. He was tactful when you were tired, bold when you hesitated, and disarmingly good at navigating court politics without letting it twist him. Most importantly, he did as you asked: he stalled. And stalled. And stalled.
Soonyoung often cited economic instability. He sowed polite doubt about timing. He suggested further diplomatic exchanges. And every time the matter of the betrothal crept to the surface, he found a way to push it back under without leaving fingerprints. For that, you trusted him more than most.
Still, no amount of clever maneuvering could keep Jeonghan away.
The Seraphian prince was a constant thorn in your side. Not overtly cruel but sharp enough to get under your skin. He made biting comments over tea with the council. Danced merely once at galas, and always with just you, even if his smile never reached his eyes. He acted the perfect prince in public, all grace and golden formality, but in private he still found delight in teasing your temper and smirking when it frayed.
And you matched him, blow for blow. It was the only way you knew to survive it.
You tried everything else. You proposed policy changes that would jeopardize the alliance. You drafted appeals to dissolve the arrangement. You whispered to other members of court, trying to find a crack in the centuries-old yet unspoken agreement binding Ancarra and Seraphia. But the betrothal endured, untouched, like some ancient curse carved into stone.
You were set to marry each other once you both turned twenty-five, and not even Soonyoung could circumvent the inevitable for longer than he already had.
On the eve of your twenty-fourth name day, you couldn’t bear it any longer.
You found your father in the observatory, where he often retreated these days, away from court noise and council bickering. He looked older now—softer around the eyes, silver threading his entire beard—but still steady, still listening.
“I’ve done everything you asked,” you told him, voice low but urgent. “I’ve honored the engagement. I’ve strengthened our kingdom. I’ve waited. But please…” Your hands clenched at your sides. “Please let me find love on my own. Not in a treaty. Not in an obligation.”
The king looked up at you, quiet for a long moment. And in that silence, your heart thudded so loudly you feared he could hear the break in it.
Your father didn’t answer right away. He looked at you for a long time, like he was peering through the layers of duty you wore like armor—past the queen-in-waiting, down to the little girl who used to trail behind him with ink on her sleeves and admiration in her eyes.
Then finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair, wearier than you’d ever seen him.
“If you must,” he said softly. “Then choose. But do it wisely.”
And just like that, the floodgates opened.
Soonyoung, ever your loyal accomplice, was the first to act. But your father’s advisor, Siwon, was ten steps ahead. Between them a list was compiled: eligible bachelors from noble families across the continent. Men with good standing, decent lineage, tolerable personalities. A thick folder of names, portraits, court records, and correspondences appeared on your desk within the week.
“You asked for love,” Soonyoung reminded you, lifting an eyebrow. “Not obscurity. We still have to make it look… proper somehow.”
You stared down at the endless sea of faces, all of them smiling too politely. The illusion of choice wrapped in silk and gold. It wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for, but it was something—a sliver of agency in a life that rarely allowed any.
Near the end of the list, a familiar face stopped you cold.
Im Changkyun.
The boy who used to spar with you in the training yard until both your arms gave out. The only one who never pulled his strikes. Who called you “lightfoot” just to get under your skin and laughed when you beat him anyway. He’d left court years ago to pursue something abroad for a few years—you hadn’t heard from him since.
You held his portrait a moment longer than the others.
He looked older now, jaw sharper, eyes steadier. But something in his expression was the same: direct, unafraid. You set the image aside, just slightly, like a card at the top of a deck.
“Considering him?” Soonyoung asked, not even trying to hide the curiosity.
You didn’t answer. Not really. Just tapped the edge of the page and muttered, “He’s not terrible.”
Several days later, you invited Changkyun to the castle.
The back gardens were quiet this time of day—just enough sunlight spilling through the high hedgerows to illuminate the walking path in pale gold. The magnolias were in bloom, their wide petals fluttering in the breeze like fallen silk. You waited near the old stone bench beneath the olive tree, Reya sprawled lazily in the grass at your feet like he didn’t weigh as much as a small carriage.
Siwon and Soonyoung lingered at the archway entrance, trying and failing not to look like posted guards. You’d already told them three times that Reya was protection enough—and given the way the striped beast flicked his tail with bored menace, you were fairly confident no one would get within lunging range without permission.
Still, you appreciated their presence. Just as you appreciated the way the household staff had been strictly instructed, sworn to silence, and double-compensated for their discretion.
No one from Seraphia could know.
You heard footsteps before you saw him—light, careful, and familiar. When Changkyun emerged from the vine-draped path, the first thing you noticed was how tall he’d gotten. His frame was broader, shoulders squared. His hair was longer now too, tied back against his nape.
But then he grinned, and you knew it was still him.
“Well,” he said, stepping into the clearing with a casual ease that made Reya lift his head. “Some things don’t change.”
You quirked an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Your taste in terrifying pets.” He nodded at your tiger. “Still looks like he wants to eat me.”
Reya snorted through his nose. You weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t a laugh. “He does. But only a little.”
Changkyun bowed low, more mockery than formality, then straightened and met your eyes. “Your Highness.”
“Don’t,” you said, voice softer than you expected. “Not here.”
His expression eased. “Alright, Lightfoot then.”
You nodded despite the jab, the name fitting better in his mouth than you remembered. And for a moment, standing there in the hush of a secret meeting surrounded by the scent of olive and magnolia, you felt like a girl again. A little reckless. A little hopeful.
“So,” Changkyun said, glancing past you to where the advisors waited in careful silence. “Am I here for tea, or a political inquisition?”
You smirked. “That depends on whether you’re still terrible at fencing.”
“Oh no,” he groaned. “You’re going to beat me again, aren’t you?”
“If you’re lucky,” you said, turning to lead the way deeper into the garden. “If you’re not, Reya will.”
And Reya, as if understanding perfectly, bared his teeth in a lazy grin.
You walked side by side with Changkyun through the garden path, Reya ambling behind like a silent chaperone. The quiet between you wasn’t uncomfortable, just tentative. It had been years, after all. He’d grown into his frame the way trees settle into their roots—steady, grounded, and unpretentious.
You stopped at the far end of the gardens beneath a low-limbed willow, leaves swaying like curtains in the wind. When you turned to face him, the words tangled briefly on your tongue.
Changkyun tilted his head. “You’re fidgeting.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he said, grinning. “Same way you used to before you asked to borrow my practice foil. Or when you were about to do something reckless.”
You huffed, cheeks warming. “I’m not here to be reckless. I’m being strategic.”
“Same thing, in your case.”
You gave him a look, then sighed. “Fine. I’ll be frank with you.”
“That’s new.” He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.
You ignored him. “You’re here because I’m… looking.”
His expression shifted—curious, but not alarmed. “Looking? For what?”
“A husband,” you said quickly, like yanking a bandage off. “Someone suitable enough that my council and court will approve. Someone who could make this kingdom feel less like a cage, and—” You stopped, biting the inside of your cheek. “Someone I could maybe stand.”
Changkyun blinked, taken aback for a moment, then leaned in slightly. “But… aren’t you already betrothed?”
You stilled before carefully saying, “It’s complicated.”
He looked at you for a long moment. Not pressing, not even judging, but he did take a moment to read between the lines.
“Right,” he said finally, with a nod. “Complicated.”
You were grateful he didn’t pry further.
Hmph, you thought. If Jeonghan were this thoughtful, I wouldn’t have a problem with it.
You immediately wanted to punch yourself. What? No. No. Why in the world—? You shook the thought off like water from your hands. Ridiculous. Completely and utterly—
“I’m flattered,” Changkyun said gently, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. “Really. It means a lot that you’d even consider me.” His eyes dimmed just a little. “But I can’t.”
Your heart paused. “Can’t…?”
He nodded, almost apologetically. “There’s someone else. We’ve been together a while now. She’s not from a noble house, so it was never going to be public, but… we’re expecting a baby in the spring.”
It hit you like a brick wall of mortification. “Oh, gods—Changkyun, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you in a—”
“No, no,” he said, holding up a hand. “I know you didn’t. You never would have tried if you did. I’m honored you thought of me, but I’ve already made my choice.”
You took a step back, mortified beyond belief. “I just tried to poach a taken man.”
“With a pregnant partner,” he added with a teasing grin. “A bold move, even for you.”
“Stop laughing,” you hissed, trying to suppress the heat crawling up your neck. “This is a diplomatic disaster.”
And of course, when you turned to stalk back to the garden entrance, you saw them—Soonyoung and Siwon, standing just where you left them, whispering like schoolboys and failing horribly at hiding their laughter.
“You both knew, didn’t you?” you growled.
Siwon cleared his throat and looked up at the sky. Soonyoung offered a helpful shrug. “We just wanted to see how long it would take for you to find out.”
“You’re both fired.”
“You’ve said that four times this month,” Soonyoung said cheerfully.
“And it gets less believable every time,” Siwon added.
Behind you, Changkyun laughed again. Reya huffed. You tried very hard not to fling yourself into the hedge and disappear.
You went back to the drawing board with a vengeance.
The wall of your study, once reserved for regional maps and grain forecasts, was now a collage of organized chaos. Pinned parchments fluttered in the breeze from the open window—portraits, lineage charts, summaries of estates and personalities. It looked less like a matchmaking effort and more like a war room. Reya had taken to curling up just outside your door, wisely avoiding the flurry of thrown quills and muttered curses.
Siwon and Soonyoung stood to one side, arms crossed like generals surveying a battlefield. They were your most loyal—yet infuriatingly conniving—advisors, offering unfiltered commentary with the energy of drunk gossip mongers.
“Lord Hwan?” Siwon suggested, tapping one parchment with a silver quill.
“Too stiff,” you replied without a hitch. “He talks like he’s trying to sell me on an insurance scheme every time he opens his mouth.”
“What about the Crown Viscount’s second son?” Soonyoung asked. “Handsome. Educated. Keeps birds.”
“He also believes women shouldn’t sit in council chambers. Next.”
After a while, the portraits dwindled down to just a few names that hadn’t been immediately dismissed. Among them, a new face caught your eye—a boyish nobleman from the southern coast. You remembered him. Soft-eyed but sharp-tongued. He has an earring glinting in his official portrait, a reputation for charity work, and biting courtroom wit.
“Boo Seungkwan,” Siwon said, noticing your gaze. “Heir to the wine barons of Chasan.”
“Isn’t he the one who screamed at the High Treasurer for misappropriating village taxes last winter?” you asked, intrigued. “
Soonyoung grinned. “The very one. Rumor has it the Treasurer nearly cried.”
You plucked Seungkwan’s page from the wall. “I like him.”
“He’s a bit dramatic,” Siwon offered.
“He’s principled,” you corrected, pinning the portrait near the top of the selection board. “And I’ve had enough of spineless men. Give me someone who isn’t afraid to raise his voice when something’s wrong.”
“He also sings,” Soonyoung added helpfully.
“Even better.”
You three stood there a moment, gazing up at the organized chaos—your court of candidates, your silent rebellion. It could be the most brilliant plan in the world, or the one that precedes its impending doom, but you’re more than willing to take a gamble.
It didn’t take long for you to make the journey to Chasan.
You traveled in an unmarked carriage with Soonyoung at your side, no royal banners or official escorts. Siwon had protested—loudly, thoroughly, and with increasing despair—but your father, ever the silent observer of your misery, gave his blessing with one condition: Keep a low profile.
Chasan was warm with early spring, the hills rolling green and gold beneath a sun that glinted off the distant sea. When your carriage pulled up to the modest but elegant estate of the Boo family, no one rushed to greet you. No horns. No footmen. Just a confused stable boy blinking at you like you’d ridden in on a cloud.
You glanced at Soonyoung, who raised an eyebrow.
“Guess no one told them the queen-to-be was dropping by.”
“I did write in the letter that I’d come in person,” you muttered.
One of the household servants scurried out after some frantic internal shouting. “Our deepest apologies, Your Highness, Sir Boo is in the lower vineyards at the moment. We… we weren’t expecting you so soon.”
“It’s fine,” you said, already stepping down from the carriage. “We’ll find him ourselves.”
Soonyoung caught up, eyes scanning the gentle sprawl of grapevines that stretched toward the southern slope. “Maybe you’ll get to see what he’s like in the wild,” he joked.
You shot him a look.
The two of you wandered down narrow earthen paths between sun-dappled vines, boots crunching softly over tilled soil. A few workers paused to bow, but no one made a fuss. Chasan was humble in the way that made you ache a little. No gold plating, no marble archways. Just earth, sky, and the scent of crushed grape skins in the wind.
“There,” Soonyoung whispered, grabbing your elbow and pulling you behind one of the taller vine trellises. You followed his gaze and stopped short.
Boo Seungkwan was farther down the row, partially shielded by the grapes, one hand still gloved in working leathers. He was laughing, light and warm, as he leaned close to the young servant boy in front of him.
And then, without hesitation, he kissed him.
Not a scandalous kiss. Not a stolen one either. But soft, sure, and heartbreakingly tender.
You stared, your heart thudding with a strange sort of… sorrow. Or maybe guilt. You hadn’t meant to intrude. You hadn’t expected this.
Soonyoung gently nudged your arm. “Guess we’ll be checking him off the wall.”
You swallowed and turned away, careful not to make a sound as you whispered, “Let’s go. He deserves to enjoy this moment without a royal shadow looming over it.”
Neither of you spoke again until you were halfway back to the estate, the quiet breeze tugging gently at your cloak.
“…Siwon is never going to stop laughing about this,” Soonyoung said at last.
You sighed. “I know.”
That crushing defeat hit you harder than you thought.
You didn’t speak to anyone for days. Not after Seungkwan. Not after Soonyoung tactfully burned the last of the correspondence in your fireplace while Siwon wordlessly updated the registry of Unviable Matches with a heavy sigh.
Maybe this was your fate. Maybe it had always been. Maybe you were foolish to think you could outrun the gods' ink when the story had already been carved in gold. Betrothed at fifteen. Crowned at eighteen. Wed to Jeonghan by—
You didn’t let yourself think the year aloud.
Your advisors, mercifully, didn’t try to coax you out of your misery. No jokes. No teasing. No “we’ll find another” or “what about this one.” Just silence and quiet presence.
Siwon left your tea in the mornings and your scrolls at dusk. Soonyoung started keeping his sarcasm locked behind his teeth. Even Reya laid his massive head across your lap while you read, his usual restlessness tempered as if he, too, knew your storm was not one that could be barked away.
You went through the motions. Court duties. Decrees. Oversight reviews. But your spirit dragged its heels, worn and brittle. And after nearly a week of going nowhere, you couldn’t take the stillness anymore.
So you left.
No guards or carriages. Only a cloak over your shoulders and Reya at your side, his striped form padding silently beside you as you stepped out into the humming heart of the capital.
The city had always been your balm. Cobblestone streets. Songbirds in the eaves. Familiar chatter from vendors and weavers calling out their wares. The people greeted you with warmth, not fanfare. They knew Reya by sight now—knew his name, even—and parted for him without fear. Children ran up to scratch his ears. Old women offered you candied dates or weathered blessings.
You wandered further through the market square, slowing as a tapestry caught your eye. It looks new, strung between two wooden posts—its threads shimmering silver in the sunlight. A dragon this time, coiled mid-roar and stitched with care and pride.
Before you could move on, a small hand tugged at the hem of your cloak. You looked down to find a boy, no older than ten, staring up at you with wide, serious eyes. In his hands, he held a delicate ring of daisies and chamomile.
“It’s a crown, Your Highness,” he said shyly, holding it out like a secret. “Not the fancy kind, but it feels nice to wear.”
You crouched to his height, gently taking the floral gift with both hands. “Then it’s perfect,” you whispered. “Thank you.”
Thank the stars you hadn’t worn your Dawning Crown. It would’ve felt like mockery now. You slipped the flower ring over your head and straightened. The child beamed. Reya gave a gentle huff of approval, as if to say: See? You still matter to the people.
You exhaled slowly and looked over the rooftops where the palace glittered far above the city.
You weren’t ready to give up yet.
After purchasing some trinkets to bring home to your father and your lousy advisors, your footsteps take you further beyond the market. The flower crown sat a little lopsided on your head, but you made no move to fix it as you settled onto the edge of the city square’s old stone fountain.
Reya laid down beside you with a content grunt, his chin resting on his massive paws as his tail flicked idly across the cobblestones. A warm breeze blew, catching the scent of fresh bread and sun-warmed stone. Pigeons cooed and strutted about the square like they owned it.
One of them hopped closer, cocking its head.
“Well?” you asked it. “I don’t have food but you get conversation. Fair trade?”
The pigeon blinked, unimpressed. You’re not who usually feeds us. Where’s that baker girl with a soft voice and flaky biscuits?
“Hm. She’s got better treats and a softer voice,” you laugh. “You birds have standards.”
Another pigeon joined the first, eyeing Reya suspiciously. Why do you always drag around that oversized tiger? He looks like he eats things like us for fun.
Reya rumbled low in his throat without lifting his head. Keep talking, feathers. I haven’t had lunch.
The pigeons flapped backward in alarm, cooing indignantly.
Savage! Barbarian! You wouldn’t dare—
“Ignore him,” you said, stifling a smile. “He likes pretending he’s scarier than he is.”
Reya huffed again, this time clearly offended.
One pigeon scoffed. He nearly ate one of us the last time you were here.
“And one of you tried to steal his jerky. Actions have consequences.”
You sat there for a few more minutes, chuckling quietly at the birds' gossip—half of it nonsense, half of it accurate enough to be alarming—until you heard a voice behind you. Gentle and familiar in a distant, unexpected way.
“May I join you, Your Highness?”
You turned your head, and nearly gasped.
Standing just beyond the sun-dappled edge of the fountain was a boy you hadn’t seen in years. No—not a boy anymore. He was taller now, broader at the shoulders, his dark hair falling just past his collar. Instead of court finery, he wore a pared-down version of Renxing armor: travel-worn, softened at the edges, the pauldrons stripped away and the gold embroidery dulled by dust and sunlight.
You blinked, almost laughing from the sheer surprise of it all. “Minghao! Stars, it is you.”
“It’s good to see you again, Princess.” He caught your hands when you reached out—steady and familiar.
But before the moment could settle, Reya let out a low growl, rising onto all fours. His ears are pinned back, blue eyes locked on your old friend with unmistakable suspicion.
“Oh, stop that,” you said, stepping in to soothe him with a hand on his head. “Reya, Hao’s a friend. Not lunch.”
Something’s wrong, he growled, muscles coiled beneath your touch. He smells like fire and blood.
You hesitated, fingers buried in Reya’s thick ruff as his growl faded to a low, vibrating hum. His tail didn’t flick, his gaze didn’t waver.
Fire and blood…
Minghao probably did smell like both, even if you couldn’t catch the whiff. Maybe in the way old battlefields did. Burnt magic clung to his clothes like smoke. His hands bore the marks of sword work, knuckles darkened with bruises that hadn't fully healed. Still, he was a fire elemental. And the general of the Renxing army. What else was he supposed to smell like? Roses?
But hostile as he was, Reya had never reacted like this before.
You gave his ear a scratch, more for your comfort than his. “He’s just being dramatic,” you said lightly. “Doesn’t like surprises. Or anyone who’s taller than me.”
Minghao smiled. “I could kneel, if that helps.”
“Don’t tempt him.”
He chuckled, stepping closer with a graceful ease that didn’t match the war-weathered armor. “Did he say anything interesting?”
“No,” you lied smoothly, straightening up. “Just a lot of growling and wounded pride. Why? Worried he’s giving away secrets?”
“Only curious,” he said, voice soft. “It’s not every day a celestial tiger growls at me like I kicked his favorite moonstone.”
“You did once steal a peach tart from my plate. He never forgot.”
“I regret nothing.”
You looked him over, still stunned. The years had sculpted him into something sharp and striking. There’s a faint scar curving along his forearm, and the unmistakable presence of someone used to command. But his eyes… his eyes were exactly the same.
“I didn’t even know Renxing was sending delegates.”
“Technically, soldiers,” Minghao amended. “My father offered support in fortifying your kingdom’s defenses. He sent me and a small contingent to assist in training.”
“That’s the official reason, isn’t it?” you teased.
He chuckled. “You’ve grown sharper.”
“And you haven’t changed at all,” you interject with a beaming smile. “Do you still carry that lopsided bow you used to train me with?”
Minghao grinned. “I retired it years ago. But I remember those lessons well. You nearly took out my eye once.”
“It was one time,” you said, rolling your eyes. “And you moved too close to the target!”
Reya, however, didn’t find this reunion nearly as delightful. He rose behind you, placing himself between Minghao and your side with a deliberate flick of his tail.
You gave him a dry look. “He taught me archery, Reya. If he meant to hurt me, he’s had a ten-year head start.”
“I must’ve offended him in a past life.” Minghao chuckled, giving a short, respectful bow towards the tiger.
“He just doesn’t like being left out of things,” you said, motioning for Minghao to sit with you by the fountain again. Some of the pigeons scattered as Reya circled, settling beside you with an annoyed huff. You pretended not to notice the way he kept one sapphire eye trained squarely on your old friend.
“It’s strange,” you said, watching the breeze stir the trees across the square. “I feel like I should’ve known you were coming. Or that I would’ve felt it somehow. We used to be glued to the hip during all those summer visits.”
“We were children,” Minghao replied gently. “But I remember it, too. I was glad when my father chose me to come here. I hoped I’d see you again.”
You flushed, just a little. “Well… you have. And I’m glad. Really.”
“I’ll be staying at the castle with the soldiers,” he told you. “We begin drills in a few days. Until then, I thought I’d take a walk through the city. See what’s changed.”
You grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not much. The pigeons are still rude.”
A few feet away, one of them let out a coarse squawk. You’re the one talking to birds like a madwoman. Can’t even find a husband.
You lobbed a pebble at it. “You eat garbage.”
Minghao watched in silent amusement as you finished your not-so-private argument with the town’s most opinionated pigeons. When you finally noticed his expression, you offered a sheepish grin.
“I missed this,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging up.
You raised a brow. “The pigeons?”
“You,” he said, laughing softly. “You’ve always had a… unique way of handling the world.”
“You say that like it’s a flaw.”
“It’s not.” His gaze lingered, warm and thoughtful. “It’s just—very you.”
Reya let out another displeased noise. But you were too caught up in the moment to notice the way his muscles stayed coiled beneath his striped coat, the faint bristle in his fur. He didn’t like this reunion.
But you? You were just happy to see an old friend.
Back at the castle, preparations for your guest had moved quickly. One of the east-facing guest rooms—typically reserved for visiting dignitaries—was swept, polished, and perfumed with lavender water. Minghao’s soldiers were escorted to the royal barracks, where Ancarrian efficiency met them with warm cloaks, strong cider, and a welcome that was formal but kind.
By morning, the dining hall was bathed in golden light, sunlight spilling through the tall arched windows. The table had been set with a surprisingly casual spread: flaky breads still warm from the oven, crisp autumn pears, spiced porridge, and thick cream served in polished stoneware.
You were already there, hunched slightly over a steaming cup of tea, still groggy but determined not to show it. Reya was helping himself to whatever lavish breakfast the castle chefs had laid out for him, utterly absorbed in his bowl. From the way his ears twitched with contentment, your tiger was clearly pleased. You only looked up from your own food when you caught the quiet rhythm of approaching boots.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” Minghao said, bowing first to your father, then offering you a softer nod. “Princess.”
“You’re early,” you replied, smiling into your cup but it drops the moment Reya starts baring his teeth at your friend again. “Reya. Knock it off.”
Your father chuckled. “He tells me his men were stretching at dawn on the south field. Quite the commander.”
“Discipline is second nature in Renxing,” Minghao said, lowering himself into the seat next to yours with smooth, princely ease. “Though I’ll admit—your lands make it easier. Crisp air. Clear skies. Even my men look taller here.”
“Flatterer,” your father said, grinning. “Careful, or you’ll find yourself a permanent guest.”
“That would be no punishment,” Minghao said, his eyes catching yours for the briefest moment, light with mischief.
You bit back a laugh and nudged the basket of pastries toward him. “Try the honeyed ones. They’re dangerous enough to make you not want to leave.”
He did, and the way his face lit up made you grin. “You weren’t exaggerating.”
Across the room, Soonyoung and Siwon stood with the servants near the door, their posture still and unreadable—save for the way Soonyoung’s brow lifted slightly when you leaned in, listening to something Minghao murmured beneath his breath.
You talked like it had been days, not years. He spoke of Renxing’s northern reaches—wild coasts and glass-shelled beetles that migrated through frozen rivers. Of teaching a recruit to read by bribing him with hawthorn sweets, only for the boy to repay him in river crabs. Your father listened with gentle amusement, but it was you who laughed the most
And then, without warning, the thought crept in like smoke curling under a door.
What if it were him?
The match with Jeonghan had been sealed long ago, your fate marked in ink and crown and ritual before you could even attend council meetings officially. But what if it hadn’t? What if you hadn’t spent your whole life dodging destiny like it was a creature waiting to pounce?
What if love was simple?
A shared pastry. A soft story. Warm hands over tea and morning sun.
You looked at Minghao again—his easy smile, the grace in his posture, the power quiet and controlled beneath the silks and steel. And in that stolen, treacherous heartbeat, you let yourself wonder.
What if it had been him instead?
Before your thoughts could wander dangerously, however, your quiet meal was interrupted.
You noticed the change before you heard it. A flicker of movement by the door. A servant, breathless and wide-eyed, darted toward Soonyoung and Siwon. She was whispering something too fast for you to catch.
Minghao was still speaking beside you, animated as he described a night march through an ancient canyon in northern Renxing where their footsteps echoed like ghosts trapped in a glass cage. His voice was smooth and warm, and you wanted to listen, truly you did—but your gaze kept slipping back to the door.
Soonyoung’s arms were folded now. Siwon murmured something in return to the servant, nodded once, then approached the table with the quiet stride of someone who only ever brought important news. The king glanced up at the shift in mood, and you followed his gaze as Siwon stopped just behind your chair and bent slightly at the waist.
“Your Highness,” he said softly, his eyes flicking toward you, “Prince Jeonghan of Seraphia has just arrived. He’s asked to speak with the princess at her earliest convenience.”
There was a beat of stillness.
Minghao’s story paused mid-sentence. He looked toward Siwon with faint curiosity, but said nothing. Your father gave only a slight nod, an order to let him join breakfast, and returned to his tea as if this were a perfectly ordinary disruption. But your hand, still resting near the plate of fruit, curled into a quiet fist.
Moments later, the doors opened with their usual hush, but somehow it felt louder this time. Jeonghan stepped in, haloed in sunlight through the high windows. He was still draped in Seraphian silks, still unfairly beautiful.
His hair was brown now, swept back with a soft curl falling over his brow in a way that seemed carefully unintentional. He moved with that same effortless poise you had grown up watching and (grudgingly) admiring.
Minghao, ever-so gracious, stood as Jeonghan approached, offering a nod before shifting seats to the other side of the long table. It left the space beside you open intentionally.
Jeonghan slid into the empty chair like he’d belonged there all along. “Good morning,” he greeted, his voice dipped in velvet, his smile almost disarmingly warm. “I apologize for the surprise visit. I was in one of my moods and thought—why not go see my future wife?”
You gave him a withering look, but it faltered when he leaned in just slightly and added, “Joshua sends his regards. He’s recently been engaged himself, you know.”
“Oh?” the king said, lifting a brow. “Congratulations are in order.”
“Yes,” Jeonghan said with a calm nod. “The daughter of one of our royal mages. She isn’t of noble blood, but she’s well-versed in magic and negotiations. My brother’s always had a soft spot for strategists.”
“Sounds like he inherited that from someone,” Minghao said mildly.
You raised a brow. Jeonghan only smiled, utterly unbothered. “Hardly. I prefer my companions predictable. Less likely to start a war over breakfast.”
A chuckle moved around the table.
Then Minghao tilted his head and said, almost idly, “And he’s not using magic, still?”
Jeonghan blinked. “Pardon?”
“Joshua,” Minghao clarified with a small smile. “Both of you, actually. Last I heard, neither of the Seraphian princes had taken up their birthright. The royal bloodline in Seraphia is known for its strength in enchantment, no? And yet you keep it buried, still?”
You stiffened a little. Not in shock, but because the question came from nowhere. Your spoon hovered above your tea. Magic was always a strange subject between nations. But the abstention of Seraphia’s recent royalty was somewhat a hot topic among the surrounding kingdoms—Ancarra included.
Minghao, for his part, was infamous across empires as a fire elemental prodigy. The youngest to command a regiment of war mages in Renxing’s history. His aura carried that same warmth now, flickering low like a hearth. Reya, beside your chair, shifted uneasily. His icy blue eyes fixed on the man across from him like a second set of judgment.
Jeonghan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Our magic is not the crown’s priority. Seraphia thrives through diplomacy, not flames.”
Minghao leaned back, folding his hands. “A shame, really. I always wondered what it would look like—royal Seraphian magic unleashed.”
You didn’t miss the slight tension in Jeonghan’s jaw.
And that, more than anything, gnawed at the back of your mind as Minghao took another sip of tea. You sat there in your seat with perfect posture and a polite smile, but the thought slipped into your skull like a splinter.
You’ve never seen Jeonghan use magic.
Never seen him spark even a flicker of it. Never caught a rumor, never heard a whisper. Not even from the palace gossip mill, which had happily speculated about the color of his undershirts once and still hadn’t shut up about the time he laughed too hard at a coronation toast.
And you would’ve asked. You should’ve asked.
But that would’ve required speaking to him longer than a required greeting, longer than the bare-minimum exchange you both had perfected over the years—smiles for the court, ice behind closed doors. You found out about Joshua’s affinity by accident, really. He’d once stopped to admire a hedge maze in your gardens, and when he touched a dying stalk, it bloomed again beneath his hand. Simple and gentle, much like the boy himself.
But Jeonghan?
Nothing.
No elemental surge. No runic marks. No rumors of illusions, or voicecraft, or even basic wards. Either he had nothing—or he was hiding something so carefully, so deliberately, that no one had been able to name it.
And now Minghao was here, a walking blaze of power, and Jeonghan was smiling like none of it even mattered. You reached for your teacup, mostly to keep your hands busy.
You didn’t like mysteries. Especially not when they sit beside you, pretending to be harmless.
The silence stretched just long enough to begin tasting uncomfortable. Minghao’s smile didn’t falter. Jeonghan’s posture remained infuriatingly elegant, but you could tell—if only because you’ve spent years learning how to read him—that he’s ready to change the subject.
It’s your father who spared him the effort.
He cleared his throat and gently set his goblet down. “And how long will you be staying with us this time, Prince Jeonghan?”
You turned slightly toward the head of the table, grateful for the break in tension. Jeonghan flicked his eyes toward the king and answered smoothly, “Just a few days, Your Highness. I was passing through the border en-route from the east and thought it best to pay a visit.”
“An unannounced visit,” Soonyoung muttered under his breath from his post by the door. Siwon nudged him with an elbow.
The king chuckled, brushing past the remark. “It is always a pleasure, no matter how sudden.” Then he glanced toward you. “Perhaps you and my daughter might walk the gardens this afternoon? The roses have finally bloomed this year.”
You almost choked on your tea.
Jeonghan nodded with a faint, serene smile. “Of course. It would be an honor.”
Your spoon clinked against porcelain just a little too hard. Reya emitted a low growl from under the table, whether in protest of the plan or of Minghao’s lingering presence, you can’t tell.
Minghao, to his credit, simply sips his tea again. But his gaze flicks to you, then to Jeonghan, curious. Assessing.
And for the first time in a long while, you can’t tell which prince unsettles you more.
You didn’t get far from the dining hall before your hand shot out to catch Soonyoung by the sleeve, dragging him into the shadowed archway beside one of the tapestry alcoves. Siwon followed of his own accord, arms folded neatly behind his back, expression already knowing.
“I’m asking this plainly,” you whispered, eyes flicking back toward the corridor. “Are we absolutely certain Jeonghan doesn’t know what we’ve been up to?”
Soonyoung blinked. “As in the matchmaking campaign?”
You stared at him.
“Right, yes, that,” he amended. “Then no. I mean yes. As in, he doesn’t know. I’m almost sure of it.”
“Almost?”
Soonyoung’s smile twitched. “Prince Jeonghan is… difficult to read. Cheerful as he is, he doesn’t quite let anyone be privy to his intentions.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “What if he’s just biding his time? Waiting until I’m alone before springing some awful, ‘You’ve dishonored our families’ speech and demanding we set the wedding date?”
“Princess,” Siwon said gently, “he’s had nearly a decade to pull such a stunt. And he hasn’t. Don’t start doubting the quiet now.”
You glanced up at him, voice lower. “But what if Minghao's presence stirred something? What if he sensed it, somehow—that I’m searching for someone else?”
Siwon regarded you with the patience of a man who had outwaited a thousand royal tantrums and twice as many council disputes. “Prince Jeonghan is many things. But petty is not one of them. He’d confront you if he had suspicions, not toy with them.”
“Not petty, huh?” you muttered, “I’m not so sure about that…”
Soonyoung scratched the back of his neck. “We did keep the search quiet, Princess. Every servant sworn to secrecy, every meeting arranged through as discreetly as possible. If Prince Jeonghan knows, he’s clairvoyant. Or just very, very nosy.”
You sighed and pressed a hand to your forehead. “This whole morning felt cursed. Reya was uneasy the whole time. I—gods above, I liked being with Minghao again. That’s the worst of it. I liked it, and Jeonghan probably sensed that.”
“So?” Soonyoung said, baffled. “You’re allowed to entertain visiting nobility, especially if they’re your friends. Prince Jeonghan doesn’t own your breakfast companions.”
“But he’s my betrothed!”
“In title only.”
Your shoulders sagged, and you gripped the edge of the column beside you. “I felt like I’d been playing a game I didn’t know the rules of. And everyone else was holding cards I’d never seen.”
Siwon’s gaze softened. “That is the nature of court.”
A sigh escaped your lips. “I’m supposed to walk the gardens with him soon.”
“Try not to trip into the koi pond again,” the older advisor added.
“That was once,” you scowled. “And it was raining.”
Soonyoung grinned. “Still your most graceful fall.”
You shook your head and pushed away from the column. “Pray for me.”
“I’ll light a candle,” Siwon said dryly.
“I’ll start digging a moat,” Soonyoung chirped.
You waved them off and stepped back into the corridor, spine straightening with every step. Whatever awaited you in the garden, you would meet it with dignity.
The royal gardens stretched out before you, awash in morning light where sunlight filtered through the trees that swayed with the breeze. You walked slowly along the mosaic path, hands clasped loosely before you, Reya trotting a few steps ahead. He hadn’t growled once—not even when Jeonghan fell into step beside you like a ghost slipping from a dream.
“It’s been some time since we walked here,” Jeonghan said plainly.
You didn’t meet his eyes. “Has it?”
“I suppose not that long,” he amended with a soft chuckle. “But long enough to miss the scent of the roses. Your gardeners have always done them justice.”
You glanced toward the flower bed just ahead—wide as a banquet table and brimming with tangled stems of roses. Their leaves are a lush, lacquered green, buds curled tightly on the branches like secrets not yet told. A few bold blooms had already unfurled—deep crimson, velvet-soft, catching the morning light like drops of spilled wine.
“They’re late in blooming this season,” you murmured.
“Maybe they’re waiting for a sign,” he said. “Something worth blooming for.”
You didn’t respond. There was always something slippery about him—how his compliments wore the face of riddles, how his tone was too gentle to grasp without suspicion. You didn’t trust softness when it came from him. Not when you’d spent half your life bracing against it.
Still, he continued beside you, hands tucked behind his back in perfect princely grace. His eyes scanned the gardens, the trees, the rooftops just beyond the horizon.
“I heard your father’s invited Renxing to join our military councils,” he mused.
You stiffened, just slightly. “He has. Their soldiers arrived yesterday.”
“And Minghao is their prince and general?” Jeonghan added lightly, almost amused.
That makes you pause. “You’ve met?”
“A long time ago,” he said. “I doubt he’d remember it, but he does seem aware enough of my existence to want to pick a fight with me .”
You huffed. “You make it easy for anyone to want to pick a fight with you.”
Jeonghan didn’t deny it—just offered a knowing smile, the kind that curled at one corner of his mouth and made you want to both slap it off and stare a little longer. You walked in silence for a few steps. The wind stirred the trees again, rustling petals onto the stone path, and somewhere nearby, water trickled over the lip of a marble fountain.
Then he said, almost offhandedly, “He likes to speak first. Draw lines before anyone else has a chance to set the terms.”
You glanced sideways at him. “You mean Minghao?”
Jeonghan nodded. “He’s clever. Knows exactly where to place a cut for the deepest bruise.”
“Well, he’s a general. He’s trained for that.”
“He’s also a prince,” your fiancé pointed out, tone light but edged. “Which makes it harder to tell when the blade’s diplomatic.”
You didn’t answer. Not because he was wrong, but because you were surprised he noticed. Still, Jeonghan wasn’t looking at you. His gaze wandered, serene and distant, as if this was just another quiet stroll instead of a conversation tensed on the knife-edge of politics.
“For what it’s worth,” he added after a moment, “I’ve never liked men who think precision is the same as power.”
That caught your attention.
You studied him for a beat longer. His posture, as always, was deceptively relaxed—too smooth, too practiced. But something had shifted. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the fact that Reya brushed gently against his side as he passed, tail flicking once before moving on. Jeonghan looked down at the beast, a faint smile twitching at his lips.
“He’s warming up to me.”
You scoffed. “He’s tolerant, at best.”
He tilted his head with a lazy smile. “Still better than hostile.”
It was. You hated that you agreed.
Days drift by in a hush. You expect tension, expect something grand to stir. After all, two foreign princes now share your roof, both with their own legacies, their own shadows trailing behind them. And yet, the palace breathes as if nothing has changed. No great disruptions, no clashing tides.
The soldiers in the barracks adjust to the presence of Renxing’s warriors with the wary politeness of men trained to kill side by side, and the kitchen staff still sends up too many pastries at tea. Minghao spends most of his days in the training yards or reviewing your kingdom’s defenses with the captains. He is gracious when he joins you at court, always with a smooth word or charming smile. Reya still watches him like a hawk from afar—but the tension has settled into a sort of cold awareness, like two great cats pacing the edge of each other’s territory.
Jeonghan, on the other hand, has made it his personal mission to haunt your every quiet moment.
He never speaks of the conversation in the garden again, but you can feel it hanging in the air whenever he appears. You pass him in the corridor, and he gives you a smile. You leave the solarium early, and he’s somehow in the hall just outside, pretending to admire a tapestry. You ask the cooks to surprise you with something new for breakfast, and he comments idly at the table that you’ve always liked tart things with honey.
It’s maddening.
By Thursday, you’ve had enough.
You marched down to the archery range before breakfast, bow in hand, and jaw set with razor-tight focus. You haven’t had time for this in weeks, and it shows in the tension of your shoulders, the crackle in your spine. You notch your arrow, draw back your arm, exhale—
“Good morning, Your Grace!”
You startled a little too dramatically. The arrow sailed in a wide arc and landed somewhere in the hedges with an unceremonious thwack.
You spun around to find Jeonghan standing at the edge of the range, hands clasped like he’s arrived for a morning stroll. Beside him was Soonyoung, who gave you a guilty, wide-eyed look before mouthing I’m sorry and quickly stepping out of the line of fire.
Your voice came low and clipped. “Are you following me?”
Jeonghan only lifted a brow. “Why, of course not. I was merely enjoying the views that the Ancarran castle has to offer. As your future consort in alliance, I should know the corners of your kingdom, don’t you think?”
Soonyoung took one careful step back, and from his perch under the nearby tree, Reya let out a snort that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Jeonghan didn’t even bother making himself look like he didn’t purposely startle you at all.
You sighed and retrieved another arrow. Next time, you’ll aim for him.
You notched it, shoulders tight with barely restrained irritation. Behind you, Jeonghan and Soonyoung settled onto the bench near the range like they have every right to be there. Which, technically they do, but that didn’t stop your fingers from twitching with the urge to send an arrow through the wood beside Jeonghan’s ear.
Another shot—closer to the bullseye this time. Still not enough to stop your pulse from thrumming too fast.
“You’re good,” Jeonghan said, his tone easy and observational, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Shua and I weren’t trained like this in Seraphia. As you know, our court prefers diplomacy and dance over daggers and bows.”
You didn’t turn, but you heard the amusement laced through his voice. Soonyoung gave a small, sympathetic shrug from beside him. “It’s true. I once saw him faint at the sight of blood.”
“Exaggeration,” Jeonghan replied airily. “I merely swooned with elegance.”
You let out a slow exhale, notched another arrow, and fired. This one landed square in the center of the target. You heard a low whistle from your advisor and—more infuriatingly—a small, approving hum from Jeonghan.
“It’s rather convenient,” the prince mused, crossing one ankle over the other. “My future queen being so fearsome with a bow. I daresay I won’t need to lift a finger. You’ll protect me, won’t you, Princess?”
The arrow you’d just pulled from the quiver snaps between your fingers.
“If I protect you,” you said coolly, “it’s only because I don’t trust anyone else to finish the job of ending your miserable existence cleanly.”
Soonyoung looked away, coughing suspiciously into his sleeve.
But Jeonghan? He beamed like you handed him a bouquet. “How romantic,” he sighed, resting his chin on his hand as if admiring a painting. “You do know how to make a consort feel cherished, after all.”
Your heart pounded, and it’s not from the archery.
The morning was clear the day Jeonghan left.
A soft breeze combed through the courtyard where his carriage waited, draped in the white-gold sigils of Seraphia. The horses pawed the cobblestones impatiently, as if mirroring the mood of the man they wait for—restless and infuriating to the very end.
You stood beside your father beneath the marble archway, cloaked in the formal grays of a diplomatic farewell. The king’s voice was kind when he spoke to Jeonghan, and your fiancé was all grace and bows and eloquent farewells. Even Minghao lingered beside you with an inscrutable smile, hands behind his back like a soldier at ease. You’re aware of the others watching too—Siwon and Soonyoung among the entourage, the guards, the servants—all witnesses to this perfectly polite departure.
It’s nearly done.
But then Jeonghan stepped forward to take your hand in his. He kissed it, gently and reverently, all according to protocol. And then he leaned in too close for comfort.
“I look forward,” the prince murmured into your ear, warm breath brushing your skin, “to the next time I get to ruin your aim.”
You jerked back before the blush could spread to your ears, willing your face into a mask of court-trained calm. Every lesson you endured under the glare of etiquette tutors saved you in that moment—your shoulders straight, your smile pleasant, your tone as composed as a glacier.
“Have a safe journey, Prince Jeonghan,” you said, eyes narrowed in the most ladylike way possible. “Do try not to miss me.”
His smile could set cities alight.
“Oh,” Jeonghan began, stepping back toward his carriage, “I intend to do exactly that.”
You resisted the violent urge to throw something at his head.
He’s gone before you could reply, the carriage wheels rolling across the stones like the closing of a storybook chapter.
Only, you suspected—no, you knew—he’ll be back soon.
By the time Jeonghan vanished beyond the gates, you'd already gathered Siwon and Soonyoung in the war room—not for military strategy, but something far more treacherous:
Court-approved matchmaking.
“We’re at a consensus then,” you said, tapping your finger once against the map of Ancarra. “Prince Minghao is not a viable option. Even if I wanted to—”
“Which you actually do,” Soonyoung cut in with a pointed look.
“Even if I did,” you repeated with force, “it would be a diplomatic nightmare. Calling off an engagement with Seraphia for the prince of Renxing? We’d be lucky if we only lost trade ports and not entire border towns.”
Siwon chuckled. “I’m surprised you’re willing to pick the task up again, Princess. You looked… quite dejected after your trip to the Boo Estate.”
You had to pin Soonyoung down with a glare to keep your advisor from saying anything that will raise your blood pressure to dangerous levels. “Failure is part of the journey to true love. Hasn’t anyone told you that, Siwon?”
Your father’s advisor hummed, his spectacled gaze skimming the interior list of nobility you’d had scribes compile over the past few weeks. “So the suitor needs to be from Ancarra. Someone who can cause enough gossip, enough scandal, enough public affection to make it plausible you fell wildly in love and couldn’t help yourself.”
Soonyoung grinned. “Which means we need a boy you could realistically kiss in public without gagging. Oh, and someone that won’t run when Reya so much as growls at them.”
You glared at him. “You’re on thin ice.”
Your advisor raised his hands in defense. “What? I’m just saying—you do tend to scowl at most men like they’ve insulted your bloodline. Same goes for your beast.”
Siwon, ever the calmer tactician, cleared his throat. “We’ll approach this with structure. Let’s narrow the list to eligible bachelors who meet the following criteria: loyal to the crown, reasonably attractive, tolerable by Reya, and—preferably—already a little in love with you.”
You tapped your fingers again, faster this time. “It doesn’t need to be a real romance. Just enough of a performance to convince Seraphia the engagement fell apart because of me, not them. If I’m the reckless one, Jeonghan saves face. Everyone’s happy.”
Soonyoung leaned back, arms behind his head. “You really think Prince Jeonghan cares about saving face?”
“…No,” you admitted, remembering the smirk he wore as his carriage departed. “But Seraphia might. And the court definitely will.”
“Then we manufacture a heartbreak,” Siwon said simply. “We choose someone charismatic, familiar, close to the palace—enough that no one questions why you spent time together. You’ll laugh too loud at the gardens. Leave flowers in his rooms. Maybe even—gods forgive us—write a poem.”
Soonyoung winced. “That’s low.”
“All is fair in love and politics,” you muttered. “Or at least, in fabricated love.”
You glanced out the window, where the sun slipped behind the edge of the tower, casting long shadows across the floor. Jeonghan was gone, and your future hung on the next name you circled with ink and lied through your teeth about.
War you could prepare for. But this? This was treasonous theater. And it didn’t help that the world kept sending you warning signs left and right.
It began with Lord Doyoung of the northern territories—a bookish type with a gentle voice and decent bone structure. You think, Yes, this one might do. But the very morning he’s due to arrive in the capital, his carriage overturned on a clear road with no other travelers. His horse? Spooked by a pigeon. A pigeon wearing what the guards swear was a tiny gold ribbon.
Suspicious.
Then there’s Jaehyun, a second-born noble who helped manage his family’s glasswork business. Intelligent, considerate, and crucially uninterested in politics. You traveled discreetly to a manor on the coast to meet him. However, the moment you arrived, he was gone. Apparently left the day before to pursue an urgent pilgrimage after receiving a mysterious letter from a "reputable Seraphian monastery" asking for his divine insight.
But the worst, the true collapse of your sanity, came when you tried to court a commoner. A sweet, curly-haired apprentice scribe from the capital. You met by accident—he dropped his stack of scrolls, Reya frightened the life out of him, and you ended up laughing like someone in a romance novel. You arranged to meet him again secretly by the statue of the winged lion after dusk.
And guess who’s already there?
Jeonghan leaned against the base of the winged lion like it was a throne carved just for him. The dusk painted him in gold and shadow, and he looked utterly at home—one ankle crossed over the other, arms folded loosely, a single wildflower tucked behind his ear like he’d stolen it from a love-sick dream.
“You’re early,” he said lazily, as if he’d been waiting minutes rather than hours. “I almost thought you weren’t coming.”
You stopped dead. “You’re not him.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I’m certainly better-looking.”
“You—” You took a sharp breath, rage tightening behind your eyes. “Where is he?”
Jeonghan tilted his head. “The apprentice? I believe he’s having a lovely evening at home. His mother made delicious stew, and he felt it’d be rude to miss it. Or so the note said.”
You stared. “You intercepted him?”
Your fiancé smiled, all teeth and wicked charm. “Technically? I intercepted the opportunity. You never said this was an exclusive audition.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“And yet,” he said, stepping into the moonlight, that damn wildflower still tucked behind his ear, “you keep trying to replace me with men who don’t know the difference between a sword hilt and a dinner spoon. Truly, you wound me, Your Grace”
You didn’t realize your fists were clenched until your nails dug crescent moons into your palms.
Your fists were clenched so tightly your arms shook, your breath short and ragged. The statue's winged shadow barely concealed you from the open square, where lanterns were being lit one by one, their warm glow spreading like a slow-burning fire.
And Jeonghan just stood there.
Mocking you with that unbearable calm, his eyes full of all the things you hadn’t said in ten years. The flower behind his ear was ridiculous. His shirt collar was crooked. His entire existence was meant to push you to the edge of insanity.
“You’re infuriating,” you snapped.
He smirked. “Then stop chasing ghosts and—”
You didn’t let him finish.
Your hand fisted his lapel and pulled hard, slamming your mouth against his before your brain caught up with your body. It wasn’t soft or sweet or measured, but raw, full of teeth and fury and years of words swallowed down in silence. You’d meant to shove him, maybe slap him. But somehow, your lips found his instead.
And the worst part—the truly damning part—was how good it felt.
The warmth of his mouth. The way he froze for the barest second, then exhaled against you like he’d been holding his breath for a lifetime. And then he kissed you back.
Jeonghan didn’t just return it. He answered it.
His hands slipped to your waist, slow but sure, like he’d dreamed of this and was finally awake. He kissed like he knew every inch of your stubbornness, every sharp edge, and loved the way you cut him open. One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your face, deepening the kiss—and it became something molten, dangerous, entirely public.
Somewhere behind you, Reya snarled like a warning. You weren’t alone. The statue’s shadow didn’t hide the way Jeonghan’s hand curved around your hip, the flush in your cheeks, the hunger in the space between your mouths.
You tore away first, panting and wide-eyed as your heart thundered in your ribcage. Jeonghan looked at you all while swiping that tongue of his across his bottom lip.
“Was that part of the act?” he asked softly, lips still red, voice dangerously close to tender.
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because if you spoke, you might admit it wasn’t the kiss that terrified you.
It was how long you’d wanted it.
By unspoken agreement, neither of you addressed the kiss behind the statue. Not in words, anyway. But everything afterwards shifted.
Jeonghan began appearing in Ancarra with alarming regularity—always with a perfectly valid excuse. Delivering letters from Seraphia. Attending diplomatic luncheons. Touring agricultural reforms that absolutely did not require a prince’s attention. And every time he stepped through the gates with that lazy smile, your blood pressure spiked.
He was still insufferable. Still poking at you like a child with a stick and a beehive.
“You missed me,” he’d say, voice low in the hallway.
“I was hoping you’d gotten arrested,” you’d reply without looking at him.
“You dreamed about me again.”
“Reya dreamed about biting you. I just watched.”
But no amount of sarcasm could undo the heat that had settled between you like a splinter you couldn’t dig out. And while your verbal battles raged on, your bodies fell into an entirely different rhythm—one of breathless tension and stolen moments.
A quick kiss when no one was looking. A lingering touch at your waist beneath the pretense of helping you onto a horse. A late-night visit to the library that ended with your back pressed against the cold wall of a forgotten corridor, his mouth hot against your throat.
You hated him.
You hated how good he was at knowing when to push you. You hated how you let him.
One day, Jeonghan found you in the west wing solarium—alone, for once, dressed in something plain for the heat. The moment he stepped through the arched doorway, you already knew he was going to do something reckless.
You tried to keep your tone sharp. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I wasn’t,” he said innocently, approaching anyway. “I was remembering how you kissed me first.”
“I kissed you to shut you up.”
“Well,” he murmured, stepping behind you, brushing your hair aside to press a kiss just below your ear, “it didn’t work.”
You didn’t stop him when his hand slid beneath the hem of your dress, fingers trailing up your thigh with infuriating patience. You should’ve. You always told yourself you should’ve. But instead, you exhaled through your teeth and leaned back into him, fists clenching the edge of the table as he teased his way higher—his touch maddeningly sure, maddeningly soft.
And when his fingers finally slid inside you, you didn’t even pretend to resist.
Because for all the years of distance, all the fire and anger and scarred memory between you, Jeonghan still knew exactly where to find the weak spot beneath your armor.
“You’re shaking,” the prince murmured against the shell of your ear, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Didn't know you could be so delicate.”
“I will break your nose,” you hissed, breath catching as his fingers curled just right. “Shut up and get it over with.”
He chuckled. “You say that like I’m doing this for me.”
“Gods, I hate you.”
“You don’t sound very convincing.”
You bit down hard on your lip to stop the moan rising in your throat. His hand moved with a maddening rhythm—confident and precise, like he’d learned you in secret. Maybe he had. Maybe Jeonghan had always known how to find the cracks in your walls, the fault lines in your resolve.
Your knees nearly buckled when he dragged his thumb over your aching clit. The spot that made your vision flicker, made your breath stutter.
He caught you before you fell.
“Oh,” your fiancé said with mock sympathy. “Is this where the princess begs?”
You turned your head, eyes glittering with fury and heat. “You’re so lucky I’m unarmed.”
“Am I?” He dipped his head to kiss the corner of your jaw. “Because right now, I feel like the one being conquered.”
You made a sound—part growl, part gasp—as the pleasure crested higher. You hated how easy it was for him to pull you under, hated how your body betrayed you, trembling at his touch even as your mouth spat venom.
But gods, it felt good.
It felt like revenge, like surrender, like twelve years of wanting something you swore you’d never let yourself need. He played your body like an instrument only he knew how to tune—drawing out every gasp, every tremor, until the fire in your gut finally, finally broke.
You clutched the table edge like a lifeline, moaning his name as each wave of your orgasm shuddered through you. You felt sticky and unclean, and Jeonghan thought it to be a good idea to smear the mess he’s made of your cunt across your inner thighs.
As if to mock you even further, he leaned in, lips brushing your cheek as he whispered, “You’re going to think about this tonight. When you’re all alone.”
You whipped around and shoved him—half-heartedly, breathlessly.
“Get out before I feed you to Reya.”
Jeonghan grinned, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to your knuckles like a knight, of all things. “I’ll come back when you miss me.”
“I never do.”
He was already gone by the time you realized your legs still hadn’t stopped trembling.
Thankfully, Jeonghan left before lunch. That meant you could change your ruined dress and have a meal in the peace and quiet you deserved after that daunting encounter in the solarium.
You sat between your father and Minghao in the smaller sunlit dining chamber—the one reserved for informal meals and less scrutiny. Sunlight poured through the windows, glinting off the crystal decanters and catching in the honey glaze of the roast pheasant. The servants came and went like shadows. Minghao poured you some tea without asking, which you would have appreciated, if you weren’t so wrapped up in your own mind.
“So,” Minghao says casually, “how’s the treason?”
You glanced sideways at him. “Treason?”
He smiled. “You’ve had that look on your face since you walked in. Like someone who just burned a letter and buried the ashes under a rose bush.”
Before you can answer, it began.
The birds.
You heard them before you saw them—three magpies nestled like gossiping witches along the arched windowsill. One of them fluffed her feathers and gasped loud in your skull.
She was scandalous with a man just this morning!
Your eyes widened. No one else reacted. Of course they didn’t. Only you could hear them.
Back in that room again, another cooed. Pressed up to him like a heat-starved mare—
I told you, the third interrupted with a huff, she’s betrothed to him. It’s legal. The king said so. Even if she climbed that prince like a ladder, it would still be state-sanctioned.”
You nearly choked on your tea.
Your father paused mid-sentence. “Something wrong, bug?”
You covered your mouth with your napkin, glaring furiously at the birds. One of them winked.
“Just… feeling a little hot,” you muttered.
Oblivious to your internal unraveling, thye king picks up his fork and says, “We should start finalizing your name-day celebration soon. Twenty-five is a milestone.”
“I vote we skip it,” you said darkly, eyeing the window again. The birds have not left.
Minghao hummed. “You’ll have to get used to celebrations. Especially now that your wedding with Prince Jeonghan is not far behind.”
You hesitated just long enough for him to notice.
“...Unless it’s not happening?” the general asked jokingly.
You didn’t know how to explain it. How every time Jeonghan visits, he kisses you like he wants to ruin you. How your body remembers the curve of his smile before your mind catches up. How you tell yourself it’s a temporary madness—just lust, just unfinished business, just war-born tension—but your hands keep betraying you anyway.
And now the damn magpies were singing it to the skies.
She moaned his name! one of them cackles, beak open wide. She gripped his hair like—
“Excuse me,” you said sharply, standing up so fast your chair skitters back. “I need some air.”
Your father looked mildly concerned. Minghao raised an eyebrow.
“Should I send someone with you?”
“Only if they can shoot birds,” you mutter, already turning toward the hall, cheeks blazing.
Behind you, you heard one final chirp:
Reckless princess. She’ll marry that boy or die trying.
The weeks leading up to your twenty-fifth name-day blur into a storm of brocade, guest lists, and mental breakdowns.
What was once meant to be a modest royal banquet has spiraled into a full-blown spectacle at your father’s behest. The ballroom has been draped in gold silks and strung with imported glass lanterns, and couriers from neighboring kingdoms have arrived daily, bearing gilded gifts and stomach-turning compliments. You’ve had to write nearly a hundred invitations by hand—because of course you did, since your father insisted that nothing but your own pen would do for a celebration of this scale.
Four gowns. Four. In one night. Each more elaborate than the last, all designed by different tailors to reflect “the four faces of the princess.” (Whatever that means.)
And looming behind the lace and laughter and godforsaken gemstone embroidery is the other event everyone is whispering about: your wedding.
To Jeonghan.
You tried to keep a mental list of reasons to loathe him, just to stay anchored. He’s insufferable. He flirts with everything that looks his way. He laughs when you’re mad. He kisses like he owns the air you breathe and gets away with everything because his face is tragically symmetrical.
And worst of all?
You’ve started to imagine what it would be like to marry him and not hate it.
The very thought sent you into a tailspin of self-loathing and denial. But no matter how many times you told yourself you didn’t want this, something traitorous inside you fluttered every time he looked at you with those unreadable eyes and said your name like he’s always known it.
By the time your name-day arrived, you’re equal parts exhausted and vibrating with tension. The maids were still pinning the final layers of your first gown—a deep rose silk trimmed with silver thread—when someone knocked at your chamber doors.
“Princess?” one of the guards called. “Prince Jeonghan and Prince Joshua request to see you.”
You nearly groaned aloud, but waved them in. “Fine. But if they mess up a single pin, I’m going to skewer them with it.”
The door opened, and the two Seraphian princes entered like they own the place—Jeonghan with his usual amused swagger, and Joshua with a more subdued grace you haven’t seen in months.
You didn’t rise from your seat as your maids were still halfway through adjusting the fall of your sleeves. but you did narrow your eyes when Jeonghan swept in with a smirk and a flourish. The new color of his hair wasn’t lost on you either—deep burgundy red. You still had no idea how he changed its color like the seasons.
“Happy birthday, Your Grace,” Joshua greeted warmly, offering a polite half-bow.
“Thank you,” you replied, eyes softening. “It’s good to see you again. I thought you’d be too busy planning your own wedding.”
Joshua’s smile flickered, but he was quick to recover. “Ah. Well. Some things are in motion, others… less so.”
You raised a brow. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”
“It’s complicated,” he said, then adds with a small laugh, “But I’ve learned from Jeonghan not to overshare.”
His brother leaned against the wall with a lazy smile. “I’m an excellent role model.”
You snorted. “You’re a warning sign carved into a cliff face.”
Before either man could reply, a footman appears in the doorway, whispering something in Joshua’s ear. The younger prince bowed again before excusing himself, promising to speak with you again before the night is over.
And then it’s just you and him.
Jeonghan eyed the gown you’re still being pinned into with a mock-solemn look. “Do I get to see all four today, or is this one the final form?”
“Don’t act like you care,” you quipped, trying very hard not to shift under his gaze.
“Oh, I care. I’ve always loved watching you suffer.”
“Wonderful. Then you’ll enjoy what happens next,” you told him coolly, gesturing for the maids to step back. “Because if you’re going to keep staring at me like that, I’m going to assume you came here to be mauled.”
As if on cue, Reya let out a rumble of noise from where he was being pampered by one of the braver palace maids. Ferocious as he was, he always did like getting his claws clipped, as well as wearing his favorite collar if the occasion permits.
Jeonghan closed the distance between you with infuriating calm, eyes never leaving yours as he flashed a wicked grin. “You look beautiful when you threaten me.”
Your pulse did that annoying thing it always did when he looked at you like that—like you were something worth chasing, even when you were bristling with knives. You rolled your eyes so hard it nearly dislodged the Dawning Crown pinned into your hair.
“And you look like a scandal waiting to happen.”
His grin widened. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Before you could come up with something scathing in return, Reya padded over, nails clicking softly on the polished floor, his gleaming coat freshly brushed, a ridiculous silk bow tied around his collar. He stopped beside Jeonghan and huffed, as if unimpressed with the theatrics.
Jeonghan crouched smoothly to scratch behind Reya’s ears. “Ah, my true supporter arrives. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from her wrath.”
Reya growled, just faintly.
You smirked. “He’s siding with me, clearly.”
“I’m wounded,” Jeonghan said, rising with mock offense. “Betrayed by beauty and beast alike.”
Then he extended his arm to you. “Shall we?”
You stared at it for a beat, suspicious. But Reya nudged your leg gently with his snout, and you sighed, slipping your hand into Jeonghan’s. “Fine. But if either of you embarrass me tonight, I’m feeding you to each other.”
“Romantic and resourceful,” Jeonghan said with a wink. “You’ll make an excellent queen.”
You didn’t dignify that with a response. But as you walked down the corridor, Reya flanking your other side like a silent shadow, the three of you looked like a tableau of something unspoken and inevitable.
The ballroom was a gleaming vision of excess: golden drapes spilling from vaulted ceilings, glass lanterns casting slow-dancing light over a sea of jewel-toned silks and polished marble. An orchestra played on a raised dais, their melody light and sweet, but charged with the weight of spectacle.
You stood beneath the tallest chandelier, Reya sitting loyally at your side despite the sea of legs and perfumes swirling around him. The first toast had long since passed. You’d curtsied, smiled, and performed your gracious-lady routine so many times your cheeks hurt. And then the master of ceremonies called your name.
A hush fell.
Your father approached with a dignity that made your throat tighten. He was dressed in deep blue, embroidered with your kingdom’s sigil, and he extended a gloved hand with gentle formality. You placed yours in it, and let him lead you into the center of the floor. The music swelled.
Your first dance had been rehearsed, of course—weeks of steps and spins and graceful nods. But when he whispered, “You’ve grown into someone I’m proud to call my heir,” you missed a beat. His voice was low, almost shy. “And I know… it’s time to let my little girl go.”
You blinked hard, eyes stinging. “Father…”
“I asked too much of you, bug. Pushing this match before you were ready.” He exhaled, voice heavy but warm. “But Jeonghan… for all his faults, he’s steady in the ways that matter. If you’ve come to accept him, then maybe I wasn’t entirely wrong to hope.”
You didn’t correct him. You couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that—like someone trying to make peace with the things he had broken, and still dared to believe he hadn’t ruined everything.
The dance ended in soft applause, and you embraced him tightly before slipping away into the crowd. You barely had time to exhale before another hand reached for yours.
Minghao.
He wore black trimmed with crimson thread, Renxing’s crest gleaming like bloodied gold on his shoulder. His touch was precise, his posture perfect, but his eyes held a steadiness that grounded you. Your heart warmed even further.
“I’ve never liked these things,” he murmured as he led you into the dance. “The court politics. The pageantry. Celebrations of this caliber are rare in Renxing.”
You gave him a dry smile. “And yet you came anyway.”
“I came because I’m loyal to the alliance between our two kingdoms,” he said simply. “And to you.”
That steadiness—his quiet presence, his unwavering calm—had always comforted you. Minghao was the shield between Ancarra and the unknown. For months, his men had trained your country’s footsoldiers and honed them into formidable warriors. You felt safe with him, the way one does with stone walls and drawn blades.
But then he added, almost as an afterthought, “It’s a beautiful kingdom. Shame what war does to beautiful things.”
You glanced at Minghao, frowning faintly. “We’re not at war.”
“No,” the general said, still smiling. “Not yet.”
The song ended, and he bowed with courtly precision. You blinked after him uneasily. But there was no time to dwell—another partner was approaching.
Of course, it had to be him.
Jeonghan offered his hand with a dramatic flourish, his red hair far too striking to ignore. “May I steal the final dance of the night?”
“Only if you promise not to talk,” you muttered, taking it.
He did not promise. Of course not. He pulled you in with the confidence of a man who knew every beat of your rhythm, every angle of your resistance. His hand rested lightly on your waist, the other guiding you effortlessly into the waltz’s pattern.
“You cried,” he said smugly.
“I did not.”
“You almost cried.”
You glared up at him. “If I did, it was because I had to dance with you.”
His grin softened, just slightly, something real shining through the mischief. “You’re beautiful. Not just the dress. You. I thought you should hear that without a punchline attached.”
You blinked.
It unsettled you more than his teasing ever had.
The song slowed, spiraling toward its final note. For a moment, your fiancé held you still, one breath closer than necessary. The world spun in candlelight and cello strings around you, and you hated the way something in you leaned toward him instead of away.
“I won’t always be an enemy, you know,” he said quietly.
“I know,” you replied, just as quiet. “That’s what makes you dangerous.”
After the dances, your stomach practically growled in protest.
Dinner was winding down into a soft haze of candlelight and velvet laughter. The tables glittered with the remains of a decadent feast—glazed meats, sugared fruits, wine-stained napkins folded like petals. Reya lay at your feet, gnawing contentedly on a thick strip of jerky, a gift from Soonyoung (via the royal kitchens, of course). Every so often, his tail thumped against the marble with a low rhythm, as if to remind the room that he was still on guard.
You barely had time to sit between greetings, pulled into conversations and compliments from all sides. There was Yeri, a childhood friend turned court mage, who gave you a vial of bottled starlight as a name-day gift. And Seulgi, the clever young ambassador from the coastal isles, who kept trying to guess which gown was your favorite. You laughed freely for the first time all night, warmed by the company, the flicker of candles, the slow-blooming sense that maybe everything might be all right.
Until it wasn’t.
Near the center of the ballroom, Jeonghan stood facing Minghao. It looked almost casual, but only on the surface.
Then Jeonghan said, loudly enough for the conversation to die around you, “Tell me something, General. How many times have you tried to kill your own father and emperor now? Was it three?”
Minghao’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a bold accusation to make in public, Seraphian.”
You stood up from your seat, heart jumping to your throat. Minghao stepped forward, his voice still even, but you could hear the warning beneath it. “I serve Renxing with my blood. My father knows this.”
“Does he?” Jeonghan tilted his head. “Or did you send his last stand-in home in pieces, too? Or was that an ‘accident’ like the rest?”
A cold, electric silence followed.
“I’ve seen the way you linger at the map of Ancarra when no one’s looking,” Jeonghan added. “The way your men move when no orders are given. You’re not here to serve the alliance. You’re here to watch it rot.”
Minghao’s hand twitched. Just a flicker. Just enough to make Reya growl.
You shoved back your chair and moved, fast. “Jeonghan, stop—”
Too late.
“I should’ve cut your tongue out the moment I knew what you were,” Minghao hissed.
“And I should’ve told her what you are days ago,” Jeonghan snarled, and without waiting for another word, he punched him. The impact rang through the ballroom like a crack of thunder.
Minghao didn’t fall. Of course he didn’t. But his head jerked back, his lip split—and when he turned back, he looked every bit the general people feared. Cold and murderous. You stepped between them before another blow could land.
“Enough!” you said, chest heaving. “This is a royal banquet. On my name-day. You will not spill blood here.”
Reya pressed his flank to yours, snarling low. Behind you, guards surged forward—but no one dared act before you gave permission. Jeonghan wiped his knuckles on a napkin. “You should tell your father. Or don’t. Doesn’t matter. The truth always shows eventually.”
Minghao didn’t speak. But his silence was louder than anything. And just like that, the celebration fractured. Not with a scream, not with blood—but with the breaking of something deeper.
Trust.
It was several hours past midnight when you heard three gentle but firm knocks on the door to your bedchambers.
Annoyed, you stared at the collection of unopened gifts stacked high on your vanity. From delicacies imported from neighboring kingdoms to the most expensive cosmetics in all of Ancarra, your guests had certainly spared no expense in trying to curry your favor. But not even their lavish presents could dispel the pure vexation that had made your blood boil the entire evening.
You didn’t bother to answer the door. Instead, you swept yourself into the plush seat tucked beneath the dresser mirror. There was only one half wit currently residing in the castle brave enough to disturb you in the dead of night, and with how miserably tonight’s festivities had gone, you were in no mood to extend your hospitality to anyone—least of all Seraphia’s exasperating, insufferable, scheming—
“Isn’t it a little too late to be testing out swatches, Your Grace?”
You tried to ignore him. The way his silken dress shirt dangled half untucked from his trousers. The self-satisfied look on his face when he noticed you fumbling with the cherry red rouge you’d been applying to your lips.
But try as you might, you couldn’t ignore Jeonghan when he reached a hand in front of you, nimble fingers wiping off the excess color you’d accidentally tinted just a few millimeters past your lip line.
Not when his smoldering stare held yours captive in the image reflected in your gilded mirror. Not when you couldn’t even find it in yourself to resist when he gently grabbed your chin and forced your gaze to marvel at the man himself.
“Sulking again, Princess?” Jeonghan sneered, and you wanted to hate him for it, but you couldn’t. “I saved you from a man charged with treason three times in a single decade. Why are you pouting at me like I took away the love of your life?”
“Because you’ve made it your life’s purpose to make mine miserable,” you snapped, lacing each word with venom. “Minghao isn’t a traitor. If he was, he wouldn’t become the general of the Renxing army. He wouldn’t even be daring enough to live in our castle for months.”
He sighed, sounding almost sympathetic—but you’d long seen past the ruse. “Poor little thing, still being played like a fool all because you abhor the idea of one day becoming my wife. Tell me, didn’t you find it odd, how persistent he was in pursuing a woman who’s already spoken for?”
“Minghao is not pursuing me, and I am not spoken for,” you hissed, trying not to crumble from the way his thumb dabbed lightly at your lower lip. “Not by you. Not by anyone. Father gave me a choice—”
“Yes, of course. Everyone knows the story of the Ancarran Princess chained to a troublesome foreigner. So troublesome that she had to beg on her knees just to get the king to reconsider,” Jeonghan cooed, his face inching closer to yours.
“But as it turns out, all the other men you’re trying your damnedest to replace me with are even worse fiends than I.”
Your lungs burned as if they’d been set aflame, and Jeonghan was merely fanning the fire. “You’re despicable.”
“And you, Your Grace, are far too gullible,” he chuckled, each breath searing against your skin. “I’d say just give it up and surrender, but you’ve been fighting me since we were children. Ending our relationship in such a boring way wouldn’t make for a good story, now would it?”
You remembered something Soonyoung once told you in passing: how Jeonghan loved deeper than anyone expected. He loved his homeland. He loved his family. He loved his people. And with how tirelessly he kept pulling you back into this engagement, anyone would assume he loved you too.
But how were you supposed to believe that someone like him was capable of love when all he did was thrive off your misery?
“This new rouge you’re testing,” he murmured, as if he hadn’t just stomped on your last nerve. “It’s the kind that takes days to remove once it dries, isn’t it?”
“In what way does that concern you?” you gritted out.
The despicable prince simply hummed. “Oh, nothing. I’m just curious about its actual longevity.”
Your heart practically stuttered to a stop when he closed the distance between you—only a hair’s breadth separating your mouth from his. You didn’t know how it happened, but your fingers were suddenly coiled in the fabric of his shirt. Searching for purchase. For solid ground.
But you should have known better than to anchor yourself to someone as volatile as Jeonghan.
“If someone were to ruin it in the next ten seconds,” he whispered, his voice all heat and danger, “would you be even more furious than you are now? Or would it have the opposite effect? Would you finally melt into their arms? Would you let them tear all your defenses asunder?”
Your pulse roared in your ears, and suddenly, you couldn’t remember how to breathe. His intense gaze pinned you in place no matter how badly you wanted to flee. The scent of expensive champagne lingered on his lips, and to your horror, you found yourself craving a taste.
But you couldn’t. You couldn’t want that. You couldn’t want him.
This was the man who had made your life a waking nightmare for as long as you could remember. The man you’d be cursed to sit beside in the throne room if you didn’t act soon.
You knew these facts perfectly well, and yet…
A scream ripped through the corridor, sharp and blood-chilling.
Jeonghan snapped his head toward the door. The sound of shouts followed, heavy footsteps, the unmistakable ring of steel against steel.
“What was that?” you breathed, your voice brittle with disbelief.
Jeonghan was already on his feet, eyes narrowing as he reached for the dagger he always kept hidden inside his coat. “Trouble,” he said grimly. “Exactly the kind I warned your father about.”
Another cry echoed down the hall—this one closer.
Then the door burst open.
A castle guard staggered inside, crimson soaking the front of his uniform. His mouth opened, a desperate warning hanging on his tongue, but it was too late. A blade sliced across his back, and he fell with a gasp. Behind him came two men clad in obsidian armor trimmed in blood-red. Their faces were obscured by masks, but the crest etched into their chests was unmistakable.
Renxing.
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Jeonghan swore violently and grabbed your wrist. “We have to go. Now.”
He yanked you into motion. Your bare feet slapped against the cold stone floor as he led you out the side passage and into the corridor beyond. Chaos bloomed all around you. Servants scattered, guards fell, and the dark-clad invaders moved with deadly precision through the castle.
“Jeonghan—what is happening?” you gasped, stumbling to keep up with him as he veered toward the grand stairwell.
He didn’t look back. “The Renxing Empire. Minghao. He’s making his move.”
“No,” you said, heart lurching. “No, he wouldn’t—he’s still here, he’s been living here—”
“He’s been watching you. Learning the gives in your defenses. Counting how long it takes for your soldiers to mobilize.” Jeonghan’s voice was hard as steel. “And now he’s using it all against you.”
Around the corner, a blur of motion caught your eye.
Reya came barreling through the hall—his snow-white maw stained crimson. He pounced with his teeth bared, knocking one of the Renxing soldiers clean off his feet, and with a snarl, clamped his jaws around his neck.
You let out a cry. “Reya!”
The tiger lifted his head, ears twitching, and bounded back to you, fur bristling, blue eyes alight with fury. Jeonghan cursed under his breath.
“I knew it,” he spat. “I knew that bastard wasn’t here to play diplomat.”
He grabbed your hand, fingers firm and unyielding. “We have to find the king. Now.”
The three of you sprinted through the castle, Reya leading the charge with a guttural roar. The corridors grew slick with blood. Familiar faces—servants, guards, nobles—lay scattered and motionless. The once-gleaming halls of your home were being razed from the inside out. When you finally reached the king’s bedchambers, the massive oak doors were already ajar. The scent hit you first—metallic and thick. Then you saw him.
Your father lay slumped over the edge of his bed, blood soaking through his embroidered robes, pooling beneath his lifeless hand. And standing above him, eyes cool and unrepentant, was Minghao.
His sword dripped with red.
You stumbled backward in disbelief. “No…”
Jeonghan stepped in front of you, shielding you instinctively. “So this was your grand plan, was it?” he growled, tone deadly. “Cozy up to the Ancarran throne and strike the moment our backs are turned.”
Minghao didn’t even flinch. “You were never naïve, Jeonghan. That was always your problem. But the princess…” His gaze flicked to you, unreadable. “She wanted so badly to believe in goodness. It made her easy to control.”
Your heart shattered. “Why?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Why do this?”
“Because peace is a lie,” Minghao said, voice cold and resolute. “Ancarra has grown weak. Soft. You live behind silk curtains and delude yourselves with choices you were never truly free to make.”
He stepped forward, sword still glinting in the torchlight. “I came to study my enemy. And now I’ve buried your king. The only thing left to do… is take the rest.”
Jeonghan snarled and drew his blade. And behind him, Reya let out a thunderous roar, low and full of rage. You stood paralyzed between the past and the future, your kingdom falling apart in front of you—betrayed by one you’d defended, protected by the one you’d hated. Your hands shook at your sides. Jeonghan wasn’t a warrior, he’d said it himself. You were unarmed too, but even with your weapons, your down spiral into grief would make it impossible to wield.
A sudden blast of cold tore through the chamber—sharp as shattered glass, singing with elemental fury. The air cracked as a jagged beam of frost magic erupted from the doorway, striking toward Minghao with blistering speed.
He parried it without hesitation, raising his palm as searing fire spiraled out from his fingers. The two magics collided midair, frost and flame meeting in a violent, hissing explosion that shook the floor beneath your feet and bathed the room in blinding steam. You staggered back, stunned—not by the impact, but by the magic itself.
You knew that spell. You’d seen it only a handful of times, in hushed moments of practice behind closed doors. Only one person cast frost magic that way.
Siwon.
The king’s most trusted advisor, robes singed at the edges, his eyes blazing not with panic but with purpose. He emerged from the ruined entrance, frost still crackling at his fingertips.
“There’s no time,” Siwon said, voice hoarse but commanding. “You have to go. The southern gates have already been breached—Soonyoung and Prince Joshua are waiting with a carriage at the old postern tunnel.”
“No,” you gasped, still frozen in place. “I’m not leaving him. I can’t—”
“Princess,” Siwon cut in, harsher now. “The king is gone.”
You shook your head, the burn in your throat rising with each breath. Your eyes remained fixed on your father’s body—his crown toppled, his blood soaking the carpet your mother once chose. It felt impossible. It felt wrong to leave him here alone. But Reya had already made his decision. With a deep growl, your tiger stepped forward, nudging your side with his enormous head. His low whine was almost mournful as he lowered himself to the ground, offering you his back.
“Reya…” you whispered.
He growled again, firmer this time, nudging you harder. And then—miraculously—he allowed Jeonghan to climb on behind you, his tail lashing with urgency. Jeonghan didn’t question it.
“Let’s go,” he said, gripping your waist as Reya tensed beneath you, muscles bunching like coiled springs.
“Don’t let him take the throne,” you whispered to Siwon, your throat raw.
He gave a single nod, eyes heavy with something far more complicated than grief.
And then Reya bolted.
You clung to her as she raced down the blood-soaked halls of the royal wing, Jeonghan’s arms around you, the wind screaming in your ears. Behind you, the flames of Minghao’s betrayal burned hotter than ever, and you knew this was only the beginning.
The wind had long since dulled into a low, steady whistle as Reya carried you through the winding woods beyond the outer citadel. The scent of smoke clung to your skin. The copper taste of blood still lingered at the back of your throat. But you felt none of it. Not until his paws hit the forest floor and slowed, the ground beneath him trembling slightly with the echo of distant explosions. The rendezvous point was just ahead—a small ridge overlooking the secret passage that led to the waiting carriage below.
Reya knelt again.
You slid off his back slowly, your knees buckling the moment they touched the ground. You didn’t cry out. Didn’t speak. Just curled your fingers in the dirt and stared at them like they didn’t belong to you. Jeonghan dismounted after you, quiet for once. He took a step forward, maybe to say something, maybe to steady you—but you turned away, shoulders trembling with the weight of everything you’d tried to keep inside.
The tears came then. Finally. Hot and merciless, carving tracks down your cheeks as a sob tore itself from your throat. “I should have known,” you whispered. “He was here for months. And I didn’t see it. I trusted him. I trusted—”
Your voice cracked, the image of your father’s lifeless body flashing in your mind’s eye again. “Father told me I had a choice. And I chose wrong.”
“You didn’t choose wrong.” Jeonghan knelt beside you, gently pulling your hands away from your face. His teasing smile was gone. All that remained in his eyes was something gentler. “You chose to believe someone could be better than the world made him. That’s not a flaw, Your Grace. That’s who you are. It’s why people love you.”
“But the kingdom... M-My father, Siwon—”
You shook your head, overwhelmed with memories of Siwon making ice sculptures for you in secret, of your father lifting you into the air when you were small, telling you that Ancarra would someday be yours. That all the land the sun could touch was worth protecting.
“I was supposed to protect them,” you said, voice raw. “But I couldn’t.”
A rustle in the trees cut the air like a blade. Then another. And another. Jeonghan rose to his feet instantly, hand going to his waist where his blade was sheathed. You scrambled up behind him, Reya growling low in his throat as shadows stepped out from the dark.
Renxing soldiers.
Half a dozen at least, clad in black and red, their armor glinting beneath the moonlight.
“Well, well,” one sneered. “The little princess, right where we want her.”
“You think you’re getting out of this alive?” another added. “You let your kingdom fall from within. You let us in. And now you want to run? After everything?”
Their words twisted in your gut like poison. You didn’t speak. But beside you, Jeonghan went terrifyingly still. And then—you saw it. A glint in his eyes, sharp and inhuman. Something reptilian. Slitted pupils. A golden gleam, cold and ancient. It vanished a second later, but it made your breath hitch.
Before you could question it, Reya stepped forward, positioning himself between you and the soldiers. His tail lashed. His fur bristled. But most startling of all—
Go.
Your eyes widened. Reya never spoke like this—rarely ever with such clarity. But his voice rang clearly in your head, steady and resolute. I’ll hold them off.
“No,” you gasped aloud. “Reya, no—”
He turned his massive head toward you briefly, his frost blue eyes impossibly calm.
Ancarra will never die as long as you live.
Then he charged.
“Reya!!” you cried, arm outstretched, but Jeonghan grabbed you from behind.
“We have to go,” he said firmly—though you knew he hadn’t heard a word your tiger said. Somehow, he still understood.
You stumbled after him, barely able to breathe, heart threatening to break clean in half—but you ran. You ran, tears blurring your vision, Reya’s roar behind you echoing in your bones as you and Jeonghan raced for the ridge where Soonyoung and Joshua were waiting.
You didn’t look back.
Because looking back would break you beyond repair.
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE
⟢ end notes: oh mein gott... after two years, i finally put this baby out of my system and into existence. HELLOOOOO lovely people of caratblr, i missed you all so terribly!!!!! this story has been camping in the back of my mind the entire time i was gone, and i'm so happy to finally get to share it with you! the entire thing is 40k ish in total, and i've been told tumblr gets EXXXTRA cranky if i even dare to dump everything in one go, so here we are, chopped into two parts :( i will probablee have the next part up next week just to keep you guys on your toes heh. i hope you liked reading this as much as i loved writing it. i miss jeonghan so terribly, and this fic got me to blow off that steam SIGHHH.
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DRABBLES ˎˊ˗
upcoming
SHORT STORIES (under 10k) ˎˊ˗
new year, same trouble ♡ — 2.5k
ㅤㅤㅤJeonghan screams trouble every time you look at him, you knew that from the start. Still, you let yourself fall for him, and now you regret it as you watch him kiss a different woman on the New Year's party you both attended. Thankfully, New Year means new chance, and Jeonghan will do anything to prove you how much he cares about you.
ㅤㅤㅤ↣ situationship!Jeonghan x fem!reader
ㅤㅤㅤ↣ friends w benefits, alcohol consumption, smut
play date ♡ — 1.2k
ㅤㅤㅤ↣ boyfriend!Jeonghan x fem!reader
ㅤㅤㅤ↣ smut
ㅤㅤㅤ↣ part of kinktober event
old habits die hard ౨ৎ♡ — 5.2k
ㅤㅤㅤJeonghan hates your guts. He's always did. Ever since he was little, it was the only emotion he felt towards you — hate. And he doesn't plan on changing that, not even now that you're back in town, deciding to mess with him again.
ㅤㅤㅤ↣ coworker!Jeonghan x fem!reader
ㅤㅤㅤ↣ rivals to ??, coworkers, previous academic rivals, jealous!jeonghan, yearner!jeonghan, smut
ㅤㅤㅤ↣ part of izzy's stupid cupid
Synopsis ✨ You love your husband with all your heart but the man has one major flaw. He is disgustingly lazy. And he's gotten used to you putting in all the effort in the bedroom. Sadly for him, he's about to find out the hard way just how much you do for him.
Genre ✨ Established relationship, married au, smut, fluff, a touch of angst
Warnings ✨ cock warming (more of an argument whilst she sits on him tbh), sort of Dom Jeonghan but he just a filthy mouth and his a little mean with it, angst (OC feels neglected), he wakes her up with his fingers, vaginal fingering, cum play, nipple play, p in v sex, love making, cum eating, he cums on her stomach, he's a cutie when he's not being an ass
Word Count ✨ 4.8k
a/n ✨ I was watching old eps of going seventeen and was hit with how much I missed Jeonghan, so this is the result of that haha (: also, just before posting this I saw a tiktok that it's only four more periods before he's back!! I can't believe how fast it's gone!!
Your husband was the greatest person you’d ever met. The day you married him is still the happiest day of your life. And when you married him, you knew he liked his home comforts, knew he was a little on the lazier side, but you didn’t mind it. It was what made him, him.
But recently he’d gone too far.
Sex with Jeonghan was great, it always had been. But he was taking laziness to a whole new level. He wants to eat you out? You’re sitting on his face then he can lay down. Having sex? You’re riding him. Gone are the days when he’d make you kneel in front of his standing figure and use your mouth for his every whim. No. Now you were the one doing all the work and he was about to learn just how much you actually do for him.
You’d picked out new lingerie, black lace with red accents, which, even though you say so yourself, made your tits look incredible. The thong was barely there, and you’d even done your makeup perfectly, wanting to look your absolute best for him.
It’s no surprise where you find him. He’d come back from a long day at practice, saying he’d been dancing all day and so needed to nap before dinner. You’d have believed him and left this little plan for another day if you hadn’t received an annoyed text from Seungcheol at lunch time, telling you your husband had been complaining all morning about you keeping him up all night and so only did a basic practice today. The nerve of the man when he’d dosed off at 9pm and didn’t even move around in his sleep until he woke up at 8am this morning. And yet here is, back on the bed, scrolling through his phone with his hand behind his head. Not a care in the world.
You stand at the end of the bed, waiting for him to notice and it doesn’t take long.
He glances at you, offering you a half assed greeting, before doing a double take and dropping his phone.
His eyes eat you up, flitting between the fact your thong is barely covering your pussy and the way your tits are spilling out of the push-up bra.
“What’s all this honey?”
He doesn’t even look at your face, just licks his lips staring at your tits. He may be high maintenance compared to most men, but at the end of the day they’re all the same. They see tits and they lose all thoughts in their heads.
“I wanted to treat you.” Your words are sweet on your tongue as you crawl towards him, placing yourself on top of him, his hands coming up straight away to hold your hips.
“These are nice,” his eyes move down your body, “are they new?”
“Yes. You bought me them today as a gift.” You weren’t going to spend your hard-earned money to teach him a lesson.
“Is that right?” his smirk is wicked, his cockiness will only make this all the sweater, “I chose well then. You look beautiful honey.”
You might be teaching him a lesson, but his compliments still shoot straight to your heart like they always have.
You lean forward placing delicate kisses along his jaw, his eyes closing in contentment automatically, as you lower your kisses down his neck. He moves his head a little to allow you more room for your tantalising little pecks and you lift his t-shirt up to take it off. Jeonghan leans forward a little so you can take it up and over his head, his perked-up nipples drawing your attention straight away.
You glance at him, his smirk still plastered on his lips, before you lower your head down and take one of his nipples in your mouth. His back arches off the bed slightly when he feels your teeth glide over it teasingly, wanting you to bite down on it like you know he loves. And so, you do, you want him to feel like he’s being spoilt and that this is all about him, the moan he lets out sends a spark straight to your pussy and you feel his dick hardening slightly beneath you.
You turn your attention to his other little bud, a sigh leaving him as he feels your tongue running tight circles around his nipple before you bite down on it. His hips move a little beneath you, you can tell he’s almost fully hard just from this.
“You’re so good at that.”
“Of course I am,” you giggle a little, “I know what my perfect husband likes. What he needs.” You look down at him, moving his hair back off his forehead as you take in the beauty of him. He might be fucking annoying, but you could never say he wasn’t truly beautiful.
“What do you need?”
Now that’s a question he isn’t going to like the answer to, in the long run.
“Want you inside me. Been thinking about it all day.”
“Then don’t let me stop you, honey. Take what you need, let me feel you.”
So, you do. You take off his pants and underwear, freeing his dick as you go. Now fully hard it sits against his toned stomach, tip pink and just waiting for you to take him. He makes no attempt to move, because why would he?
You move back to straddle him, there’s no point in taking your thong off, it barely covers anything anyway, instead you move it to the side and run your fingers through your wet folds, collecting some of your essence on your fingers, your husband eying you hungrily. You were going to use the wetness to lube up his dick slightly but he’s staring at the clear strings of you on your hands with such hunger that you give in.
“Open.”
He does. Because he’s lazy but he’s a good boy when he wants to be, and you stick your fingers in his mouth.
He hums at the taste, tongue swirling around your two fingers with his eyes closed in happiness.
You take the opportunity to line him up with your aching core, this might be pay back but fuck you’re always ready to take him. Normally there’d be a little more foreplay, him never wanting to hurt you with no prep, but you’ve got yourself so worked up all through today at the thought of having him inside you, of making him squirm, that you’ve been dripping for your husband, for hours.
The tip pushes through and you slowly lower yourself down onto him. Jeonghan moans around your fingers, sucking them even more eagerly, from the way your gummy walls swallow his now throbbing dick, making him even more needy.
He’s filling you up so nicely and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to ride him like you’ve never ridden him before. But sadly, for you and him. Now. You wait.
You don’t move, try not to clench, don’t even grind yourself down on his perfect dick once. You just sit there.
His sucks your fingers for a few more seconds before his eyes open slowly, peering at where your body connects with his, eyes wide, with your fingers still in his mouth.
It’s clear he’s pretty fucking confused. Good. He should be.
He takes your fingers out of his mouth, still looking at where your pussy meets his groin, not really knowing what this is all about. You’ve always had an active and exciting sex life, so why are you just sitting there?
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
He looks even more confused. Have you organised another person to join you? He’s always told you he’d hate that, he can’t bear other men and women glancing at you, let alone touching you.
“To have sex.”
“We are.” He’s baffled. His eyebrows knit together and he looks up at you like a lost puppy. “Is that not what my dick in your cunt normally means?”
Normally his vulgar language would turn you on, but now you’re just willing yourself not to clench around him and let him know you liked that.
“It does.”
“Then move _____.”
Lazy, lazy man.
“You see, honey, I looked up the word sex in the dictionary. And it says nothing about it being an act where only one person does something to make another person feel good.”
“What are you even talking about? Why are you looking up rude words in the dictionary, are you 10?”
Dickhead. You’ll drag this out even longer just for that comment.
“No, I’m not 10. But are you 102?”
“What do you mean by that?!”
His dick twitches slightly as he raises his voice and you will yourself not to move. You won’t be beaten by this beautiful, petty man.
“It means, honey, that this is what happens when you don’t pull your weight.”
He stares at you, eyes wide in horror. The penny may just have dropped.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Am I?!” You laugh sarcastically, the unknowing clench you make around his dick causing him to moan, “Because it’s a pattern, isn’t it Jeonghan? You just lying there whilst I do all the work.”
“That’s not true, I fucked you in the shower two days ago!”
“I rode you in the shower two days ago. You had that shower deigned so big that it warranted a ledge being built in, so your lazy ass could sit down in the shower.”
His mouth opens and closes, having been thoroughly caught out.
“And so now this is what’s happening. I’ll wait until you can be bothered to fuck me like you used to.”
Your resolve crumbles a little when his dick twitches again, but you stay strong.
“It won’t work _____. You’ll get bored and I’ll go soft and you’ll have waisted that fucking slutty outfit on nothing.”
You know what’s doing.
“That won’t work Jeonghan. Say what you like, I won’t give in.”
A look of mischief flashes through his eyes. His competitiveness kicking in. But sadly, it’s a trait you both share.
“What won’t work? Me telling you that you’ll have missed out on feeling my fat dick hitting that perfect spot deep inside your pussy, if you don’t start fucking moving right now?” his teeth are gritted, trying to will you to move.
You don’t move though. Your cheeks redden, but you don’t move.
“I can see what you’re doing, desperately trying not to move your pussy, but your pussy is what’s giving you away baby. I can feel you trickling down my balls. Even just sat there, pretending to be in charge, your pathetic little hole is giving you away.”
Ok, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Because he seems to be thriving, dick getting impossibly harder as he sees you reacting to him against your will, whilst you’re struggling more and more.
“Thought you could teach me a lesson? And this is how you choose to do it? Don’t get me wrong baby, you look fucking hot, but you could’ve just told me how desperate you are. How much you need to be fucked so hard that you forget your name. Because that’s what you’re missing, isn’t it baby? Talking about the fucking dictionary when your cunt is talking more sense than you.”
You hate him. You hate how he knows your body and mind so well.
“Move ____!!”
You don’t. Your hands come to rest on his stomach, your resolve dwindling, but you don’t move.
“Fucking stubborn.” He sighs, looking around the room before finding your eyes. “You’ve made your point. Move.”
“No.”
“If you don’t start fucking yourself on me right now, I’ll……I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Do something?”
Ha! Well played, the cocky shit doesn’t have a way out of that.
Maybe not.
He flicks your clit with his finger. Minimal effort, maximum effect because your pussy clenches down on him so hard that it causes him to throw his head back in pleasure.
He scoffs but glares again when he realises it hasn’t made you start moving.
A good two minutes must pass by of you just glaring at each other. You’d find it quite funny if you weren’t so hell bent on teaching him a lesson and making him show you that he wants you.
“This is very childish ____.”
“I don’t care. Your lazy ass has been making me do everything for months. I’m surprised you’ve not just had me use my dildo in front of you then you don’t actually have to touch me.”
This shocks him and for the first time you let out the true emotion behind all of this. Him making you do everything, whilst he just lays there was making you feel like he was just doing it out of duty. That it was what married couples had to do but he wasn’t really into it.
His stubbornness disappears quickly after that. He always wants to touch you, he always wants you near him. He didn’t think this was that deep, he thought you were just being petty and trying to get a rise out of him. He didn’t know it was about anything as serious as this.
“_____,” his voice is soft now, not wanting to upset you anymore than you seem to be.
“I get that we’ve been together a long time Jeonghan, but when you won’t even go down on me without me having to be on top of you, it makes me feel like I’m forcing you to do it. You don’t even seem to want to cuddle afterwards, just fall asleep occasionally holding my hand. You say I’m desperate? Well yeah, I am! I’d rather be desperate for my husband than completely disinterested.”
His heart cracks. He’s never disinterested in you. Why have you been feeling like this on your own instead of talking to him?
You can feel his hardness softening inside you and see no point in carrying on this charade. You climb off him, just wanting to shower and go to sleep. And your heart breaks when he doesn’t stop you. Just lets you walk off and stays on the bed.
Half an hour later you walk back into the bedroom, get into bed and turn off your beside light. If he wants dinner, he can, but you just want to sleep, and you don’t see why you should use one of the spare rooms because he’s decided he’s not interested in you.
And to be honest, you’re embarrassed that even your antics tonight couldn’t get him to do something. To show you how much he wants you.
He stares at you, your back more specifically because you’ve turned away from him facing the far wall.
How does he fix this? How has it come to this?
“Honey?”
His voice is soft as he tentatively rubs your shoulder.
“____, baby. Come on, at least look at me.”
And you do. Because you love him and you hate hearing distress in his voice. You turn over and face him. He’s just in his underwear under the covers and he looks almost ethereal with just one lamp on in the room.
“How long have you felt like this?”
You face each other, close but not touching.
“A month or so I think, maybe a little longer.”
He can tell you’re trying to remain strong, the fact you feel like you need to, makes him feel even worse.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I shouldn’t have to Jeonghan! Do I really not warrant at least a little effort?”
“Of course you do! I didn’t realise I was doing it. Work has been so busy with the comeback.”
“You didn’t do shit today, Seungcheol messaged me saying you’d said I’d kept you up all night.”
He stares at you, now realising he’s been caught out.
“Yes, today I said that to Cheol but it’s because I was genuinely so tired from the day before. I can’t get these steps down and it’s stressing me out and so I just wanted a break from everything. So, I sat out most of today and watched the guys, I thought it might help me get them down.”
“You need a break from me too?”
“No never _____. Marrying you was the best thing I ever did. And I know you work hard and I don’t deserve the amount of effort you put into this marriage but please believe me, I want you. Always.”
His hand cups your cheek and he’s relieved when you let him.
“I hate that I called you desperate, I didn’t mean it in that way, it was just in the moment. I thought it was a bit in what you were doing.”
“It was…. I think. I don’t know, it just hit a nerve when I realised you genuinely weren’t going to move. Like you’ve always been lazy but not even doing anything when we’re having sex just makes me feel like shit. Even when I cuddle up to you on the sofa it feels like you’re just putting up with it.”
“I LOVE CUDDLING ON THE SOFA,” he lowers his voice when he realises its so loud, “you know that!”
“Then tell me you do Jeonghan! Initiate something instead of just expecting it! If I behaved like you, we’d both just sit there at opposite sides of the living room!”
“Oh baby.” He scoops you into his arms, your leg hooking over his hip like it always did. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. But it’s getting tiring loving you on my own.”
“I get that, I’ll do better. Be better.”
“And don’t use me as an excuse to get yourself out of trouble with Cheol. Man up! The man is more scared of you, than you are of him!”
He snickers against your hair, noting your breathing slowing now you’re against him, as you drift off to sleep.
“I will honey. I promise.”
You’re not unaccustomed to wet dreams. Your husband is away for weeks at a time on tour and things can get desperate at times. But this one feels almost real, you can feel yourself nearing orgasm just from imagining your husband’s fingers. But then a particularly harsh suck on your nipple jolts you. That’s too real to be a dream.
Your eyes open slowly, it’s morning but barely, the sun only just seems to be rising through your thin linen curtains.
“Jeonghan?”
His head lifts from your breast, his beautiful features holding a soft smile, just for you.
“Morning honey,”
His fingers move slowly over your soaking pussy, two of them landing on your clit to rub soothing circles over it. God, you’re dripping, how long has he been doing this?!
“What are you doing?” you ask him softly, a small sigh leaving you because his fingers feel so good on your clit.
“What I should’ve been doing all along, making sure you know how much I love you, how much I want you.”
“That feels good,” you sigh again when he kisses your neck as his fingers apply a little more pressure on your clit.
“Good. I want you to feel good. Always.”
His fingers move down to your entrance, two fingers slipping back in where you’d imagined them in your dream. He moves slowly, almost thoughtfully, pumping his long fingers in and out of you. You feel his wedding ring on your skin, he’s that deep inside you, curling his fingers slightly, knowing exactly where he needs to hit to get you to cum all over his fingers. His palm applies just the right amount of pressure on your clit as his fingers keep a smooth steady pace pumping in and out of your dripping hole. He’s really taking his time, no overly punishing pace, he just wants you to enjoy this, to know he’s got all the time in the world to make you feel good. And it isn’t that he’s being lazy, for once, he just wants you both to be with each other, to enjoy this and to show you how much he loves you.
“Does it feel good honey?”
“Hm-mm,” you nod, bottom lip between your teeth as you bring one of your hands to run through your husband’s hair
“Good. You deserve this. You deserve the world. I’m so lucky to have you.”
His fingers keep moving, curling into you so that you’re teetering on the edge of your orgasm, his palm moving up and down on your clit slowly.
“I’m close..”
“Yeah?” he smiles down at you, kissing your lips quickly before kissing your neck again. “Cum for me baby. Let go, you deserve this.”
A couple more pumps of his magical fingers and you come undone on his hand, your orgasm being drawn out for longer than normal from the way he’s carefully applying just the right amount of pressure and still pumping his fingers in and out of you to ride you through it. Warmth spreads through you and you hold onto your husband to steady you as your body shakes, airy moans escaping as pleasure over takes you, but he’s there for you. Holding you close, kissing and caressing your body as his fingers finally come to a halt once you twitch in overstimulation.
You open your eyes to find him licking his fingers clean, a satisfied hum sounding at the taste of you.
His soft lips trail up your body, kissing everywhere they come into contact with, goose bumps erupting in their wake. Delicate kisses are placed all over your breasts and pert nipples until he reaches your face. Then, he pauses.
“I’m really sorry baby, I never want you to feel sad about anything, let alone something I’ve done.”
“I know that, I think I just need reminding every now and then.”
He hums as your fingers run through is hair, leaning up to kiss his lips.
“How did you get me out of my pyjamas?”
He giggles against your lips before kissing you once again and pulling back slightly.
“Oh you were fast asleep, I did worry when you stopped snoring for a second that I’d woken you, but then you mumbled something I couldn’t make out and started snoring again.”
He knows he’s about to get an ear full and pre-empts it by kissing you before you can start complaining that you don’t snore, you just have bad sinuses.
Your hand moves down to his hard dick, noting happily that he’s completely naked with you, as you begin to move your hand slowly up and down his throbbing length.
“Don’t do that baby,”
He’s groaning into your ear, pulling away slightly so you can’t touch him. You’re confused, does he not want to have sex right now?
“Don’t worry, I want you,” he truly knows you so well, “it’s just it took you so long to wake up, I’m certain you came once in your sleep already. I was getting more and more desperate the wetter and wetter you got. I want to be in you before I cum, make you feel good first before I can cum.”
Fuck, he’s always said you were a deep sleeper but actually cumming in your sleep is both worrying and impressive.
Lost in thought you don’t notice him lining himself up with your still needy entrance, your breath hitches when he thrusts into you slightly. You may have been together years but there’s still a little thrill that shoots through you that you’re about to have sex with Jeonghan, he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and the fact you’re lucky enough to be the one person in the world that sees him like this still makes you as giggly as a school girl.
“How do you always feel so good? Always so perfect for me.”
Your heart flutters almost as much as your pussy as he bottoms out, waiting for a few seconds before he starts moving. It isn’t a ferocious pace, it’s slow and caring, and you can feel every ridge and vein that lines his perfect dick. He’s breathing deeply in your ear, holding your hands in his just about your head , gazing down at you with nothing but love.
“I’m such an idiot,” a kiss to your ear and a little nibble to the lobe, “I have the most beautiful woman in the world, always so full of love for me, and I act like a selfish prick.”
He’s still moving in and out of you slowly, hips grinding down into you like he’s willing your body to know how much he wants you, just through the way he’s fucking you. Though this has gone way past fucking, this is love making. The way two people who know each other so deeply that they don’t need to do anything other than feel each other and be near each other, to show how much they love each other. And that’s what he’s doing, he has all the time in the world to make sure you know that you’re his and he is yours and he loves you more than anything.
His dick rubs repeatedly on that spot deep inside you that makes you scream when you fuck fast, but this isn’t fast and so your body shakes every time he hits that spot with his slow, smooth rut of his hips, making you clench just right around him.
“Everything about you is perfect honey, every part of this beautiful body is perfect, I could spend hours tasting you, showing you, watching how your beautiful tits move every time my dick moves in and out of your perfect pussy.”
You clench down on him, a deep groan ringing in your ears from your husband.
“Are you close honey?”
You just nod, squeezing his hands that have yours secured in his own.
“Then cum for me _____, cum around my dick. It’s yours just like I am.”
And you do, your body shakes and warmth spreads through your body as your pussy flutters around Jeonghan’s swollen length, him keeping a steady pace to make sure you get to enjoy it for as long as possible. You don’t even find it in you to moan, it’s just so peaceful and calm and right that the only thing you can do is throw your head back onto your pillow, bottom lip between your teeth as Jeonghan’s constant presence brings you back down to earth.
Jeonghan pulls out of you, staring down at your messy pussy, it only takes him a couple of tugs and he cums all over your stomach, white hot cum covering your skin and your pussy clenches a little as the final spurts of him land on you. You love when he does this, he’s always said it makes sure you know that you’re his, marking his territory almost.
“That’s better,” he throws himself onto the bed next to you, one hand on your waist and the other holding his head up as he leans on his side, “now you can see who you belong to. Just how it should always be.”
You gaze at him, a silly smile on your face, not a care in the world for the fact your lower half is covered in his cum.
“What are you doing?” You can’t help but giggle when he draws a heart in the cum that’s on your stomach.
“Love is everywhere _____,”
You can tell he’s very pleased with his cheesy line from the proud grin on his face, but it turns dark once he lifts his cum covered finger into the air and moves it towards your mouth.
“Open.”
You roll your eyes but open your mouth regardless, licking the little amount of your husband off it, the familiar taste over taking your senses.
“I am sorry. And I will do better.”
“I know you will.”
He cups your cheek, his lips meeting yours once again.
“But,” he mumbles against your lips, “you are going to have to wear that lingerie for me again. I wasted the opportunity to fucking rip it off you last night, such an idiot when you’d chosen such a slutty set.”
Fuck you’ve already had two, maybe three orgasms but his switch up makes you want to jump on him. You won’t though because for now you just want to enjoy being with him, holding each other and being present for each other. Like it always should’ve been.
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