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You and Seonghwa have been married long enough now that you’ve stopped pretending anything about your sex life is tame. 

It started sweet, sensual, peeling back the layers on each other until you hit something deeper, darker and full of need. 

And over the years, he’s pushed you and you’ve pushed him right back. 

You’ve whispered dirty thoughts into the crook of his neck and felt the shiver ripple down his spine, and he used to blush, duck his head and smile at you like you were saying something wicked, but not now. 

Now, he listens. Cataloguing your needs with quiet intensity. 

So, six years into marriage, when you tell him you want him to wake you up with sex, you clarify that you mean it for real. You don’t want romantic morning sleepy sex, you want it when you don’t expect it, you want it when he wants it. 

It doesn’t surprise you in the least that he doesn’t take you up on it right away. 

He spends weeks asking questions, clarifying your boundaries until you could say them back in your sleep, which in a way, you do. 

Curled up after a particularly intense session, you confess more about what turns you on, more about what you want – “I want to struggle,” you say it into the hollow of his throat, “I want to fight, to wake up to it,” 

“Wake up underneath me?” His breath is warm on your temple and wanting. 

You tell him yes, God yes. You want to feel him already inside, you want to try to wriggle away, you want to fail. You want to lose. 

The way he groaned after you said it tells you everything. 

So you start sleeping without underwear, as close to naked as you can get without outright throwing yourself at him, but for weeks he doesn’t touch you. 

When it comes, it’s on a night you’re not expecting it, after drifting to sleep with your head on his chest and a long, exhausting day behind you. 

And - 

You wake slowly. 

You’re not startled into consciousness, it’s just a change in awareness, a change in lucidity. A sensation, and then another; a hand on your waist, a drag of breath on your shoulder. And then? Stretch. 

You’re already wet, already open, and when you shift your hips just a little you feel him. The deep, thick ache of Seonghwa’s cock buried inside you, his hips flush to your backside, his palm splayed across your stomach to keep you in place. 

For a split second it feels romantic, being spooned, caressed, but then your cunt flutters around him and you make a soft, sleepy noise, and his hand covers your mouth gently. 

“Shh,” He breathes, a slow grind of his hips up, “let me have it, jagiya, go back to sleep,” 

Your eyes blink open, slow and disoriented in the pitch dark of your bedroom, but everything clicks into place all at once. 

He thrusts properly this time, the hot wet slide of his cock pulling back and pushing in again, full and unrelenting. 

You had asked for this, begged for this. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. 

Your body jerks naturally, trying to catch up to your mind’s acceptance of what’s happening, and his grip tightens immediately. 

“Go back to sleep, baby,” His voice is hot, breathless, laced with something tense and starving and you wonder how slow he had to move to ensure he didn’t wake you. How long he edged himself getting you wet before he pushed inside. 

You whimper against his hand. 

He drives his cock again, pushing your hips into a tilt to get the angle tighter, deeper. 

You jerk, pushing back with a twist of your hips, this time intentional and baiting, a reminder of your full fantasy. 

“Not even awake and trying to fight me?” Seonghwa huffs a laugh against your cheek, “Sweet,” 

You make a noise against his palm. 

His teeth catch against your ear, a pointed thrust driving deep, “Color?” 

His hand lifts for just a second, and you gasp in a breath of air, blinking fast to clear the residual sleep and how soft your brain feels, but you find it in a second, “Green.” 

His hand locks back tight, “That’s my fucking girl,” 

You shiver, and then he moves. 

Seonghwa tips you forwards with a hard hand on your shoulder, maneuvering you quickly until you’re flat to the mattress, locked prone under his body while he sits heavy and hot inside you. It spins you, the pressure of his body over yours, the heat of his breath against your hair, and then the steady drumbeat of his body as he sinks into you, grinding deep with every thrust. It’s overwhelming, and it’s meant to be. He’s not teasing, he’s taking, and you’re exactly where you begged him to be. 

Your cunt clenches around him with needy flutters. 

He fucks you like he’s starving for it, focused thrusts that drag his cock along every nerve ending inside you. He fucks you like you’re his obsession. 

A sob cracks out of your uncovered mouth, “Please,” you manage it, head pressed to the mattress where he has you pushed down, “stop, please, please, Hwa,” 

“No,” His voice is final, absolute, and pleasure rolls inside you. 

He holds you down tight, pinned and pliant, your pelvis flat to the mattress under the weight of his thrusts, one arm trapped beneath your chest, head held, one of his other hands hard and bruising on your hip. 

“You’re coming first,” He breathes hard against your ear, his voice rough, “coming around my cock,” 

“I don’t,” Your words die. 

He grinds deep, punishing, his whole body hot and slick against your back, “Yes, you do,” he thrusts again, “you always want it, always. Even when you cry, even when you say no,” 

You’re throbbing, every connection of his cock inside you driving you higher. 

“I know your pussy, jagi. I know you.”

His hand pushes under you, finding space between your clenched thighs for his fingers on your clit, slippery and dripping, and the noise that bursts out of you is a ragged, panicked kind of pleasure. 

“Don’t,” You beg again, fighting the way your thighs want to open for him, “please, don’t do it, don’t do it,” 

You fight, you twist your hips, trying to pull yourself out of his hold, but he’s bigger, he’s heavier, and he lets his weight do the work. 

“Shh,” He kisses your hair hard, “just let me make it good for you, let me make you come.” 

“Please!” Your voice is strangled, tight. 

“Take it,” His hips roll in time with his fingers, “I feel you squeezing me, baby, just let it happen,” 

Your whole body shakes under him, your fingers clawing helplessly at the mattress. He has you so close so fast you feel dizzy with it. 

“Fucking come.” 

Your orgasm rips through you with sudden sharpness, a sudden tumble over the drop off into pleasure, your body locking as your muscles tighten against the mattress. Your mouth falls open in a choked sob as your cunt pulses around him, and he groans, raw and low in your ear. 

“Fuck,” He shudders, his hips stuttering just once before he starts his pace again, “fuck, sweetheart,” 

Your mind is swimming, body limp beneath him as his cock drags you through your aftershocks, his hips connecting with your ass again and again. 

“Baby, baby,” Your words a tight sob, “stop,” 

“Need it,” He collapses over you, holding you close as his arms wrap around you, hips rolling, “have to come inside you, have to, color, color,” 

Your nails dig into his forearm where it’s wrapped around your front, “Green,” 

His teeth dig into your shoulder as he groans. He sounds delirious, almost desperate, taking your breathy consent like a gift. He doesn’t need to ask permission anymore, or pretend, he’s just chasing it now for himself, the feeling of your body fluttering around him, squeezing him tighter than ever before. 

“Coming in you,” He whines, “take it, take it,” 

Heat floods your core, his fingers rolling again over your clit as he says it. Your brain fires, hot, fast, “Don’t,” you whine, “please god, don’t, don’t,” 

“Mine,” He breathes, his thrusts sharpening, driving his cock as far as he can, “you’re mine,” 

You’re crumbling again, orgasm rolling through you with no chance to stop it. 

“I can’t pull out,” He pants, sweat slick skin slipping, his chest, your back, “need to fucking fill this pussy,” 

You sob beneath him, legs kicking weakly under his weight, but it’s over. He’s gone, lost in it, possessed by the feel of you, soaking and trembling and speared open around his cock. 

“Take it,” His voice breaks. 

He spills inside you with a sharp, hot cry, his hips rocking as he pulses inside you. He empties himself inside you in hard, stuttering bursts, his muscles drawn tight with strain as he ruts once, twice, getting his cum as deep as possible. 

You both still for a long moment, breathing ragged and hot. 

His hands are shaking, his breath hitching hard in his chest. You’re wrecked under him, body trembling, ruined. 

And finally, finally, he exhales. 

“Fuck,” He kisses your shoulder, his voice a whisper as he lifts off some of his body weight, “baby, are you with me? 

All you can do is nod.

He doesn’t move at first, not until your breathing slows and until you stop twitching under him like you’re still in headlong freefall. 

But when you do, his hands start to move slow, gentle now. He eases his weight off you properly and smooths his touch down your sides, brushes back the damp hair from your cheek

“I’ve got you,” He repeats softly, kissing the spot on your shoulder where he bit down as he came, “I’ve got you now, you’re safe. You were so perfect for me, love,” 

You’re still floating, still hazy and soft, and so all he does is sit with you, breathe with you. 

When he finally pulls out it’s slow, letting your body adjust to the change in sensation. 

You whimper from the ache, but also the loss of him. 

“There we go,” He murmurs softly as he slides you over onto your back, “talk to me, love.”

You tell him you’re okay, you’re here, present and feeling soft, but the minute he sees your eyes really clear he sinks against you. 

His forehead against yours. 

He holds you like a prayer. 

He murmurs his love as he guides you through cleaning up, a warm shower and fresh sheets. 

It’s still the middle of the night, and once he settles you again, you’re curled against his chest, your body still humming and warm from the aftermath. 

You drift again with his lips against your ear as he rocks you in his arms – “You’re everything, everything,” 

Body sated, sore, held. 

You sleep.