Warnings: nsfw smut rough sex rough han soo dom han soo dirty talk explicit content manhandling choking light choking biting marking possessive obsessed jealous breeding kink size kink semi-consensual vibes angst undertones uniform kink (nurse reader)
Your blood-stained fingers press firmly against his hot skin. The bullet had grazed too close to his shoulder, and now the thread squeaked against his flesh, but Han Soo didn’t even flinch. He just watched you, dark eyes fixed on your bent face, as if he were memorizing every curve of your expression.
“You should let someone else take care of this,” he finally muttered, voice rough. “I don’t deserve these hands.”
“Don’t say stupid things. If I don’t stitch you up, you’ll end up dead.” You scold him softly, without taking the needle away.
A heavy silence settles, broken only by your breathing and the metallic smell of blood. Maybe it was the tension of the moment, or maybe your need to pull him out of his gloom, but you said it without thinking too much:
“Today I found out something interesting. A very important politician’s son… asked me to marry him.”
The reaction was instant. The muscles in his jaw tightened under the dim light. He didn’t interrupt, but the shift in his gaze was brutal: from cold to blazing, with a spark that mixed fury and contempt.
“And?” he spat the word like poison. “Are you going to accept? Be the doll of some rich boy with a big surname?”
You lift your eyes to meet his, raising an eyebrow.
“Do you think I’d want to be the submissive wife of a politician who can’t even wipe his own ass?” you tease. “No.”
A flicker of relief, almost imperceptible, flashes in his eyes. He doesn’t smile—Han Soo never smiles. But the way he exhales says it all: he believes you. And yet, he growls through clenched teeth:
“If he comes near you again, I’ll bury him myself.”
You finish stitching him, clean him up, and shut him up with a light slap to the chest. He doesn’t protest, just stares at you, as if that threat were already a promise written in blood.
Hours later, when you finish your shift, you see him in the street. He’s surrounded by men, smoking and whispering while handing out quick orders. That world of his, that one of crime and shadows, crashes against your nurse’s uniform stained with exhaustion.
“I’ll walk you home,” he says, leaving no room for discussion.
“I’m not a kid, Han Soo. I can walk by myself.”
“I’ll walk you,” he repeats, sharp, and simply falls into step beside you.
You don’t insist. You walk together to your house. And then you notice: he’s thinner, his neck sharper under his shirt, his cheekbones hollowed.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you ask while looking for your key. “Stopped eating? What kind of boss doesn’t even know how to take care of himself?”
He tilts his head, mocking.
“Since when do you care if I eat or not?”
“Since I’m the one who has to see you looking like a damn corpse.” You look him up and down, shameless. “No wonder you don’t have a wife and three kids running around.”
Han Soo laughs, a dry, low laugh.
“And who the hell would want a life like that? A wife nagging me all day?”
“Me,” you reply with irony as you open the door. “But don’t get excited, it’d only be to scold you and make you eat.”
You invite him in. He sits on the couch, legs spread, his good arm resting on the back, owning the space as if it were his. His eyes never leave you while you move in the kitchen. That gaze weighs on you, strips you bare, claims you.
On a playful impulse, you walk over, sit on one of his thighs, and look at him shamelessly.
“Today I’ll be an obedient wife,” you whisper in a mocking tone.
Han Soo raises an eyebrow, lips curling into a crooked smile.
“Obedient, you? I’d like to see that.”
You give him a quick kiss on the jaw and stand up again, leaving his hands empty and his skin burning with desire.
“Then you’ll have to wait while I cook you something decent.”
He stays there, watching you move between pots and plates, every gesture of yours turned into torture. The smell of food mixes with the tension, with the glances that spark each time you turn toward him.
And you know what comes after.
The inevitable spark that always ends in an explosion.
The sound of cutlery is the only thing breaking the silence. Han Soo eats slowly, but he does it—and that’s already a victory. You watch him from across the table with your arms crossed.
“You know… I never imagined you like this,” you say with a crooked smile. “Obedient, eating like a good boy just because I told you to.”
He lifts his gaze. The darkness in his eyes pierces you like a bullet.
“Don’t get it twisted,” he replies calmly, setting the chopsticks down. “I eat because you do. And because you stare at me like I’m about to drop dead.”
“Maybe it’s because I care.”
Silence. That word is dynamite. Han Soo’s gaze locks on you, something between anger and confusion. He doesn’t say anything, but the tension in his jaw gives him away.
“Or maybe I just like pissing you off,” you add, sipping from your glass with feigned innocence.
He lets out a low, dry laugh and sets his plate aside.
He can’t take it anymore. In two strides he’s in front of you. His fingers dig into your chin, forcing you to look at him. The closeness is brutal, the air thick.
“Do you know how long I thought about you since the army?” his voice is a low growl, dripping with restrained rage. “Not one damn day did you give me peace. And now you mock me like you’re untouchable.”
You hold his gaze, heart pounding, but with a defiant smile.
“Maybe I just like watching you lose control.”
That was enough. His mouth crashes against yours, rough, hungry, like he’s trying to rip the air out of you. You push him back for a second, only to provoke him more.
“Easy, Han Soo…” you whisper, brushing your lips against his. “Didn’t we say I’d be like an obedient wife?”
He laughs against your mouth, a dark sound.
“Obedient… you don’t even know what that word means.”
He lifts you from the chair effortlessly, gripping your hips hard and throwing you onto the couch. His weight pins you against the cushions, his lips devouring your neck while his hands run over your waist, rough but desperate. You moan between laughs, still playing.
“You look pretty needy, boss.”
“Shut up.” His voice is a blade, but his hands tremble faintly as they explore your skin.
Clothes disappear between rough touches and broken whispers. Your teasing turns into moans when he takes you with the urgency of a man who never learned patience. His rhythm is rough, relentless, almost violent, but there’s something in the way he looks at you, as if he feared you’d vanish into time again.
You scratch, you bite, you cling to his back as if you wanted to tear him apart. He laughs between heavy breaths, but his thrusts grow harder, deeper, until he drags out cries that fill the room.
“You said you’d be obedient,” he growls against your ear, drowning in sweat and rage. “Then obey.”
Your nails sink deeper, your body arches to meet his without the slightest resistance. The fury, the obsession, the years of repressed need condense in that instant, until nothing remains but the sound of two bodies colliding and names broken between teeth.
And when it’s over, he doesn’t let go. He keeps you trapped under his arm, breathing hard, his eyes still dark but with a different glint.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” he mutters, barely audible, like an order disguised as a plea.
You look at him, fingers tracing his scarred face, and smile with that insolence that always disarms him.
“You’ll have to earn that, Han Soo.”
He laughs low, incredulous, and tightens his grip around your waist.
Author's note: here's more from him...I hope you enjoyed it, please comment if you'd like to be added in the future.
Tags: @luvpinkvv @meadowfics @anillodepapel @namglinggg @alwayscrackingnamgyu @n4mgyulover @mari-18s-world @@lunaryoongie @midnightmusets @lkzyuki @xank0ku @nuttybeans @anyspagy @dennsfz @n4mgyulover @faeryluxe @dovediva @wanna-plan-world-domination
