As the new social season approaches, your rising anxiety increases tenfold.

It has been four years since you were introduced to society, which is deemed far too long to be unwed for a lady like yourself. Your mother is nearly chewing her own arm off in anticipation of you finding a husband. She definitely would have married you off to the first gentleman caller by now, but luckily for you, your father refuses to tie you to another man unless you provide your stamp of approval. He possesses a soft spot for his only child that your mother never understood.

Unfortunately, the pool of suitors is extremely lacking, forcing you to pass by season after season with no husband in sight.

“Perhaps this year will be different,” Yerim coos. “They say Mrs. Kim’s son is particularly eye-catching.”

“He’s also a right bore,” you grumble, locking your arms together as you stroll into Mrs. Kim’s soirée. You’ve heard many tales of her son, Doyoung, and how he’s finally ready to settle down and take a wife. However, you also heard he is unwilling to sit for a conversation for more than an hour, and how his expectations for his wife are skyrocketing through the roof. “Maybe I shall just put him out of his misery and marry Lee Donghyuck.”

She struggles to conceal her laughter. “I would love to see that.”

The night carries on as expected, with you and Yerim spending your time near the wall while the other ladies dance around the floor. You deny multiple requests for your hand, conjuring up excuses of a strained ankle or an upset stomach.

It is not until the end of the night when you are confronted with your lie.

“A poor tummy, hm? Perhaps you should have stayed home in case you heave all over Mrs. Kim’s beautiful floor,” Jeong Jaehyun says as he approaches you.

You roll your eyes. “I imagine you find it quite hard to mind your own business, Lord Jeong. I would rather not be subject to hearing your grating voice if it is not deemed necessary.”

Out of all the gentlemen in the ton, Jeong Jaehyun is the one who has stooped low enough to classify himself as a proper rake. A man who preys on the hearts of women and lacks commitment — a rake is not a man that a lady would ever want to associate herself with. They do not take the concept of marriage seriously, and you shall likely find them in the bed of another woman before they grace your own.

Jaehyun smirks at you in the way he knows will dig underneath your skin. He has been out in society just as long as you have, and every year, he never fails to irritate you to no end.

“No luck for you tonight? Tell me, what could possibly be wrong with the wonderful men gracing this room? How have they wronged you so that you have denied every single one of them?”

You try to look for an escape, but Yerim has already made an early departure and the rest of the ladies refuse to mingle with you in fear of also being dubbed as a lonely spinster.

“I did not know you were paying attention to me so ardently,” you bite back, and this has Jaehyun’s ears blooming bright red. You smile in satisfaction.

“I-I was not doing anything of t-the sort,” he stutters. “It is simply hard not to notice when you are the only lady actively rejecting possible suitors. If you really want to drive them away, you should just open your mouth and talk to them. That shall have them running for the hills.”

You narrow your eyes and wonder how much of a scolding you shall receive from your mother if you threw your drink in his face. He guesses what you must be thinking, cupping his hand over your glass and handing it to a nearby staff member.

He continues, stepping closer into your personal space. “Soon enough, the only ones who will be left in this ballroom will be me and you.”

“I loathe the day,” you hiss. “It would personally be my worst nightmare.”

He winks at you. “Trust me, you shall not find a gentleman better than me.”

You hear someone clearing their throat and you both glance over to see Kim Doyoung standing in front of you. You immediately drop to a curtsy at his presence, and you hear Jaehyun scoff at the fact that you did not grant him the same etiquette.

“I hope I am not interrupting, Miss,” Doyoung says.

“Of course not, Lord Kim,” you reply. “Lord Jeong was just telling me how he plans to retire early for the night.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at you and you return his bewildered expression with a heated glare. You would be very content if he made himself useful somewhere else, likely with his hands underneath another maiden’s dress.

“Yes, it seems I have another obligation to head to for the night,” Jaehyun says through gritted teeth, displeased by your dismissal of him. “I shall thank your mother for being a spectacular host before my leave, Lord Kim.”

Doyoung nods once. “It would be much appreciated. Thank you, Lord Jeong.”

Jaehyun departs with one more scathing look thrown your way. You grin to yourself, happy to be rid of his presence, until Doyoung starts speaking and ruins your night.

“I have heard from your mother that you are in search of a husband. I find myself in a similar boat, and I would much enjoy it if you were to accept my offer for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

You could say no. It would not be hard to make up another excuse, but your mother would be absolutely livid to discover you have turned down an offer from Doyoung, especially after she practically handed him to you on a silver platter.

One afternoon of tea shall not kill you.

“That sounds lovely. I look forward to our discussion.”

When you turn to beeline for the exit, you catch a pair of eyes peering over at you, and you swear you see a flash of Jaehyun’s hair before he disappears into the crowd.

Hm. You must be seeing things.

—

Your mother acts as if afternoon tea with Doyoung equates to an audience with the king.

She dresses you in a gown she brings out for special occasions and has your handmaidens spray perfume on you until you are drowning in the floral scent. When she accompanies you to the tea parlor, she lists out your annoying habits that you should try to avoid.

You were not made aware that you possessed so many.

“And the way you look at him, darling, it is extremely unflattering. He can tell you hate him by the way you desire to burn him alive with your gaze. Stare at him with conviction. Make his loins stir from one simple glance at you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Mother, I shall say that I find this advice to be highly unhelpful.”

She growls at you. “You are nearly four and twenty without a single acceptance for a suitor’s hand in marriage. You shall adhere to any advice I am willing to offer you.”

Doyoung helps take out your chair like a gentleman, and you thank him while your mother sits one table behind you, eavesdropping on your conversation.

He cuts straight to the chase. “What traits do you envision for your future husband to possess?”

Your grip tightens around your teacup. You wonder what to say to ward him off, to get him to move onto the next lady.

“A man who will let me maintain my own hobbies and interests. I want to have children on my own time, not on the timeline my husband sets for me,” you answer, knowing that it is not the typical response a lady of your breeding is supposed to say. You are supposed to submit to your husband’s preferences instead of prioritizing your own. “I ask that he respects my wishes and swears his loyalty to me. I will not, in any circumstances, marry a rake.”

“This one is all bark and no bite, Doyoung. I would not take her threats to heart.”

You clench your jaw when Jaehyun approaches your table with a wide smirk on his face. He appears to be dressed for tea as well, but you see no partner by his side to accompany him. He must be here simply to intervene in your meeting with Doyoung.

“Lord Jeong,” you greet in clear distaste. “I was not aware you had been frequenting tea parlors as of late.”

“Ah, you must not be enlightened of my many passions then,” he replies with a cheeky smile. You resist the urge to slap it off of his face. “The madam who runs this shop has a fond affection for me. I always like to drop by and grab a free pastry.”

“How kind of you to take from the hard work of the common people at no charge,” you challenge with the tilt of your head.

Doyoung clears his throat when he senses the tension between you and Jaehyun rising with every scathing remark. You glance back to see your mother staring at you in abhorrence, and you quickly straighten your posture and adjust your tone.

“I apologize, Lord Jeong. I have been enjoying my time with Lord Kim. I am certain you have somewhere else you need to be.”

Jaehyun, to your chagrin, pulls up a chair. “Actually, my schedule is wide open for the day. I would love to join you.”

Doyoung stares at you, wordlessly asking if this is normal behavior, but you are too pissed off to respond. If Jaehyun wanted to cause a scene, he could have done so when you are not trying to prove to your mother that you still care about searching for a husband.

Your fingernails dig into the corner of the table and you lean forward to hiss at Jaehyun.

“Are you positive you have nowhere else to be?”

He smiles. “Absolutely. Now, catch me up on what you two were discussing. I would love to throw my hat into the conversation.”

Evidently, you and Doyoung have yet to be on the same wavelength for what you should and should not bring up in front of Jaehyun.

“I was asking her what she looks for in her future spouse.”

Jaehyun turns to you with a smirk. “Oh, is that so? Well, please, do not silence yourself on my behalf. I would love to hear the answer.”

“I already gave it to him,” you say in exasperation. “Maybe we should turn the tables on you. What does a rake like Jeong Jaehyun look for in a wife? Likely one that easily spreads her legs?”

You hear a gasp from behind you, and you know it is your mother’s shock at your candor. But you shall not allow Jaehyun to get the better of you and humiliate you in front of Doyoung. You hardly care if this statement will earn you a reputation for your crass nature.

The corner of Jaehyun’s lips twitches in amusement, only fueling fire to your flame.

“I would like for my wife to challenge me. It is not as fun when they comply with my every demand,” he says, and you fail to realize how the distance between you has closed in your heated spat. “I like a lady who knows how to speak up for herself, to voice her thoughts without concern for anyone else’s feelings.”

You scoff. Where in the world is Jaehyun going to find a lady like that?

“Good luck with your search, Lord Jeong. I have conviction that there is at least one lady out there who is meant to be with you.”

“I really should be going,” Doyoung says, standing and nearly toppling over the table.

You glance up at him in alarm. “Oh, I am sorry, Lord Kim. Let me just gather my things and-”

“No need, Miss. It must have slipped my mind that my mother asked for my presence back at home. I hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

He scurries out of the tea parlor as if the place had been set to flames. You stare after him with your jaw dropped, offended by his poor excuse to leave you behind.

You growl at Jaehyun. “Oh, you have seriously done it now, Jeong.”

“Come on. Do not tell me you were actually considering that man to be your husband.”

Your mother’s figure looms over you and you shyly look up to meet her judgmental gaze head on.

“I believe it is time for us to return home. We hope you have a wonderful evening, Lord Jeong.”

You’re dragged away by the crook of your arm, glaring at Jaehyun while your mother dishes out the biggest scolding you have ever received in your life.

—

“Your mother has brought me a proposal that I think may be in your favor.”

Your father is hesitant when he enters your study, catching you reading books by the fire. It is often the pastime you favor when your mother is upset with you, which has become more frequent in the past year. Your father is the one who searches out for you to try and talk you down, amending your qualms with your mother for a harmonious household.

“I shall not marry Kim Doyoung, father,” you say with the shake of your head. “He embarrassed me in front of the entire ton today! I will not be able to stave away the mortification for days.”

He sits next to you on the chaise lounge and looks at you solemnly.

“I have not come to converse about Kim Doyoung. I am speaking about Jeong Jaehyun.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What does Lord Jeong have to do with this? He is the reason why Lord Kim fled from me in the first place.”

Your father wrings his hands around nervously, and you speculate on what has him so antsy. He is usually very candid with you about your behavior, which means you must have crossed a hard line if he’s withholding information from you.

“Lord Jeong’s mother came around this afternoon after your incident at the tea parlor. She thinks her son is acting far too reckless and wants him to settle down. She is considering sending him to his uncle’s house in the country if he does not start listening to her wishes.”

“That does not sound like a bad idea,” you reply with a giggle.

He offers you a strained smile. “Yes, your mother was thinking the same thing. Except she was imagining it for you.”

You leap out of your seat. He must be lying. Your mother cannot possibly be entertaining the idea of shipping you off to her brother’s house. He lives on acres and acres of land without a soul in sight except for the farm animals he cares for.

It would be your absolute nightmare.

“Father, please tell me you objected to this,” you plead, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach.

“Of course I did, darling,” he sighs, assuring you. “But then your mother and Lord Jeong’s came to an agreement that I could not oppose. I saved you from being shipped off, but in a few months’ time, you shall find yourself married to Jeong Jaehyun.”

You gasp. “F-Father, you cannot! You promised that I would get the final approval!”

He takes your hands in his and pulls you back towards his side. You are trembling at the picture of you and Jaehyun living as husband and wife. You would fight everyday and drive yourselves into a haze of madness.

“Darling, there shall never ever be a man good enough for you. I knew it from the day you were born, but your mother’s insistence on this matter has forced my hand. I think Jaehyun is a fine young man. You may not grow to love him, but he shall never put you in harm’s way. It is the most important quality a father can ask of his son-in-law.”

You start to tear up. “Please, father. Do not do this. Do not make me marry him.”

He pities you. “We shall start slow, darling. He shall be your escort to Mrs. Park’s upcoming ball and we shall ease into announcing your engagement. If he does anything untoward or compromises your virtue, I swear to you I shall back out of this deal.”

“But why can you not back out now?” You whine, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. “Why can you not save me now?”

He winces as if your pain physically brings him harm. You understand your father has bailed you out of your mother’s many propositions before, but you honestly cannot let this one slip through. Jaehyun is the exact opposite of who you envision yourself marrying.

He has to be just as horrified by this proposal as you are. You have no doubt he’s sitting in a similar situation to you, arguing with his mother over her ultimate decision to alter the course of his life. This must be the first agreement you have landed on in history.

“You shall not realize it now, but I am saving you from a lifetime of heartache, trust me.”

You spend the rest of the night weeping in your bedchamber, burdened by Jaehyun’s constant overbearing presence in your life. You think back on all of the memories you have of him, and if this changes the way you feel about your inevitable coupling.

—

When you first met Jaehyun, it had been your first season out in society. You were optimistic back then, drinking in the fairytales of finding your one true love at your first ball.

You were not the only one jaded by love as many of the other ladies your age had fantasized about their first ball as an eligible lady for years. You would gossip to each other while promenading around the veranda, dreaming of the young bachelor who would swoop you up in his arms and make all your dreams come true.

You had known a few of the men from growing up with them as noble families. They were usually brothers of your closest friends, and your nose would twist in disgust at the thought of being courted by them. You were stubborn about your choice in a husband even back then.

Jaehyun had been the talk of the town that year. He already made an impression on the older ladies, winning them to his side with his dimples and classic charm. You heard of him through Yerim and how many of the other ladies were vying after the massive amount of wealth in his estate. He was one of the richest bachelors of the season, and any lady who was wed to him would automatically be elevated to a higher social status.

You assumed that because of his upbringing, he would act in a more gentleman-like fashion than the rest of his peers. You were proved wrong by his display of behavior at your first ball.

“Is he planning to dance with every lady in this room?” You asked Yerim, watching as Jaehyun once again swept through the floor with a different lady latched onto his arm. “I mean, every dance card in this place has his name written on it.”

She laughed at you. “Can you blame him? He has a lot of prospects. Everyone knows he’s the first pick of the season.”

“It is disrespectful. He is toying with their feelings for his own amusement. I do not like it.”

She poked you with a twinkle of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “No, you do not like that he has not asked you. You want a chance with him, do you not?”

You scoffed at the assumption. “Absolutely not. I have my sights set on a much higher man than Lord Jeong.”

You were so adamant on your superiority over him that when he approached you later that night for a dance, you swiftly rejected him.

“I think you have had enough dances for the night. Would you not agree, Lord Jeong?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, likely wondering what he had done to already get on your bad side.

“One more shall not bring me harm. Unless your dancing skills are not up to par, Miss?”

You grinned at him. “My dancing skills are meant for a man who shall actually appreciate my talents instead of using me to cross another name off his list.”

That was the first time you had drawn Jaehyun’s interest.

—

Your mother had not been so gracious with you by your second year.

You had fumbled through a shoddy proposal from Kim Jungwoo, who was far too nervous to actually place a ring on your finger. You unfortunately injured his ego way too far for him to recover, and he quickly withdrew his proposal with his tail tucked between his legs.

Your mother blamed you for the ordeal and ordered at least five new dresses for you to present yourself in your second season. Luckily, Yerim had not caught any gentleman callers either, and you two began flocking together at every event.

By then, Jaehyun’s infamous status as a rake had spread across the ton.

He had been spotted slipping out of brothels late at night, flirting with married women when their husbands were away, and escorting random ladies to balls just for the fun of it. You never possessed a single ounce of respect for him.

Despite this, Jaehyun would not seem to leave you alone.

Every time you turned a corner, he would be there, waiting to surprise you with an insult or tease you about your almost-marriage with Jungwoo.

“Must we keep meeting like this?” He said after the season was nearly halfway over and you had just turned down another suggestion to dance. He stalked you all the way to the bowl of lemonade while you tried to ignore his grating voice. “No one here is up to your caliber?”

“What do you want, Jeong?” You spat out, tired of his nonsense. “I thought you would be halfway down the street by now, searching for an open brothel.”

He chuckled at your jest. “They have put up warning signs about me to all the women. Apparently I caused a few too many internal fights over my rugged good looks.”

You rolled your eyes. “I find it more likely that they figured out you are sexually impotent.”

“There is only one way to find out for yourself, hm?”

“I would rather gauge my own eyes out.”

“What’s the matter? Am I not as pretty as Jungwoo?”

Johnny Suh had been the one to rescue you, asking you for a dance, which was the first offer you accepted that night. You would glance to the side from time to time to catch Jaehyun’s gaze following you around the floor, but you preoccupied yourself by staying near Johnny, preventing the loathsome creature from approaching you again.

—

Johnny had gotten married to Lady Joohyun by the next year, leaving you without a regular dance partner in your third season. Many believed he would propose to you, but you knew that he had only wanted to make Joohyun jealous after his confession to you one night.

Jaehyun, surprisingly, did not bother you whenever you were with Johnny. He had been noticeably absent from any ball where Johnny was your escort.

You believed your luck had taken a turn until your first appearance after Johnny’s marriage.

“Well well well,” you heard his drawl from a mile away. Yerim looked at you hesitantly after you tensed by her side. “Look who has decided to make an appearance on her own.”

At the time, you were giddy about your chances of a husband that season. Many noblemen had returned from vacation with friends and distant relatives accompanying them, nearly doubling the pool of gentlemen at your disposal.

You were absolutely not going to allow Jaehyun to ruin the year for you. You decided to play civil, to hopefully make amends and let bygones be bygones.

“Lord Jeong,” you greeted with a curtsy, which had Jaehyun stifling a chuckle. “How lovely to see you here.”

“Is it?” He replied with a raise of his eyebrow. “If I recall, you compared me to a horrid bug staining the bottom of your shoe just a few months ago.”

Yerim pursed her lips to prevent a cacophony of laughter from slipping out. You squeezed her arm with a scolding glance.

“That was the old me, Lord Jeong. I am a new woman, so you see. I am about to become a bride after all.”

“A bride? To whom have you been betrothed to? I have heard no news of your engagement,” he said in a flurry, his eyes flashing with a panic for reasons unbeknownst to you.

“You have not heard news of my engagement yet,” you emphasized. “The night is young and I am a very willing maiden. Therefore, if you’ll excuse us-”

“If you are so willing, then shall you entertain me with a dance?” He questioned as he held out one hand, challenging you.

You clenched your jaw in frustration. You were all in favor of extending an olive branch, but dancing with him at the first ball of the season was a tad too far. You did not want to be making a statement for yourself by befriending Jaehyun’s company.

The ladies would assume you held no dignity for yourself and the gentlemen would be appalled by your association with him.

“I have already promised my first dance with Lord Lee,” you lied through your teeth. You knew Donghyuck would not mind dancing with you just to save you from Jaehyun. “I shall see you around, Lord Jeong.”

If you had known better, you would have caught the dejected expression on Jaehyun’s face after you refused him. But all you could remember from that night was his teasing smirk and the playful lilt in his voice as he mocked you.

—

Your memories of Jaehyun do not assure you in the slightest that your parents have made the right decision.

Yerim comes over the next morning after the news of your forced marriage, soothing your cries with warm pastries and fresh tea. She rubs your back while you lay in bed, moaning for your misfortune.

“It is not that horrible,” she says in an attempt to pacify you. “At least he is good looking.”

You blink up at her. “Are you serious? I hardly care about his looks, Yerim! He is deplorable! He does not have a single redeeming quality. My mother wants to ruin my life, I am positive about that fact. How could any other suitor ever want me again once I have been tainted by Jeong Jaehyun?”

She chews on her lower lip. “I know you are not fond of him, but he may not say the same for you.”

Her statement has you peeking over your pillow, curious to hear more. She catches your gaze and exhales sharply.

“Have you ever noticed that he attends events when he knows you plan to be there? Or how he talks about you to everyone who will listen? He may have a reputation for being a rake, but you are the only lady he has asked to dance with since our first season.”

The information slowly dawns on you, but Yerim must be imagining things. Jaehyun has never felt any real romantic feelings towards you. You remain faithful that you share this conviction with him.

You shake your head. “He is deluding you as well. Trust me, Yerim, I know where Jaehyun’s true feelings lie.”

She eventually helps you get out of bed and you fail to exchange a single word with your mother while you break your fast. Yerim nudges for you to say the first word but you refuse.

Your mother only acknowledges your presence later in the night when you are due to be escorted to your first public appearance with Jaehyun.

“You are not dressed.”

You brush your hair in front of the mirror, humming softly to yourself. Yerim left to prepare herself in her own home, but you wish she had stayed to help you fight this battle with your mother.

“That is because I am not going.”

“Whatever game this is that you are playing, I do not find it amusing in the slightest. Lord Jeong will be here within the next hour and I expect you to welcome him downstairs with a proper gown and your best smile.”

As your handmaidens help you into your dress, they exchange knowing glances with each other until you grow tired of their mind games.

“May I inquire what has piqued your interest?” You ask in a bored tone.

Seulgi, your handmaiden of over five years, smiles gently at you. She has been dressing you since your first season, and is very aware how irritated you can get during times like these.

“The staff have just been discussing, Miss, since your mother announced your plans for engagement. We have been in communication with the staff employed at Lord Jeong’s household.”

You perk up slightly. “Is that so? And what have you discovered?”

Seulgi beams at you. “Lord Jeong is positively delighted by your coupling. The staff has never seen him more alert. He has been placing orders for brand new decor for your wing of the house and has requested for his staff to research your favorite delicacies to stock the cupboards. It is quite endearing.”

You frown. Jaehyun has wormed his way into the minds of your handmaidens too. His ability to manipulate others should honestly be lauded.

“How sweet of him,” you say through gritted teeth, holding back your true feelings. Although they spend more time with you, your handmaidens are employed by your mother, which means anything you say in front of them could be parroted back to her.

You devise a plan while they continue to adorn you in jewelry and work at pinning up your hair. If you could get Jaehyun to call off this marriage, you are certain his mother would relent. Your cries may go unanswered because you are simply a woman who was born into the right family, but Jaehyun will run his own household after he is married, which means he has superiority over his mother’s decisions.

You hear his voice filter from up the stairs when you walk out of your room.

“It is honestly my pleasure, madam. Your daughter is a gift that I promise to treasure.”

You huff. Where does he keep pulling these lines from?

As you walk down the steps, you take in the scene unfolding in your foyer. Your parents are speaking to Jaehyun with radiating smiles, laughing at every little thing he says. His mother stands closely behind him, joining in on the laughter with a chuckle here and there.

When your heel hits the last step, they turn to you. For the first time, you identify the twinkle in Jaehyun’s eye that tells you he’s excited to see you.

Could Yerim be right? Does Jeong Jaehyun like you?

“There she is,” your mother says, tugging you over and pretending she wasn’t upset with you an hour ago. “She is beautiful, is she not, Lord Jeong?”

“Stunning,” he whispers, and you desperately want to punch him in the face.

“Let us head out, shall we? We do not want to run late,” you say, itching to remove yourself from the spotlight. Jaehyun nods in agreement, outstretching his arm for you to take it, and you reluctantly wrap your fingers around his bicep. You lead the way to the carriage waiting outside, murmuring loudly under your breath so Jaehyun can hear you. “You are so dead to me, Jeong.”

He helps you into your carriage, and you don’t miss the pained look in his eyes as he forces a smile onto his face.

—

Jaehyun never wanted to fall in love.

He has witnessed enough of his friends losing their sanity over the matter, finding themselves on the receiving end of their mother’s meddling into their lives. Some of them have found happiness while the others have settled for what they were given.

Although Jaehyun is the only child and he knows he must marry to continue his lineage, he never imagined he would marry for love. He would likely find a well-bred lady, one who would simply finish her duty in childbearing and leave him alone otherwise.

Before tying himself to her, he desired a little recklessness in his life. He tugged on the heartstrings of the ladies in the ton and stopped by brothels when he was searching for something quick and fast. It earned him a reputation but he hardly cared about what other noble families thought of him. He knew at the end of the day, they prioritized the wealth of his estate far more than his outside trysts, which means he would have no issue in securing a wife when he wanted to.

He really was not intending on taking an interest in you.

His mother had educated him on the ladies of his season, so he knew a little of your background. You are also the only child in your family, but being born a daughter means you must get married to receive an ounce of your father’s wealth. Still, this fact never seems to spur you on in your quest for a husband. He has noticed other ladies approach him quite confidently yet you stay sidelined at every ball, waiting for the gentlemen to come to you, even though you refuse most of their offers to dance.

And he shall admit that your adamant refusal to dance with him has him intrigued.

Although the other ladies are appalled by his reputation, they remain courteous enough to accept a dance or two, mingling with him when they see fit. Since his first season, Jaehyun has made it his own personal mission to get you to join him on the floor, come hell or high water.

He just never expected forcing you to marry him as being the catalyst for you to adhere to his wishes.

“You shall tell your mother that you want to call this marriage off,” you say as soon as the swell of the music starts and you take to the floor.

He takes a step towards you with a raised eyebrow. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I am positively certain I will make your life a living hell if I become your wife. You may not favor me now, but you shall surely detest me once I am finished with you.”

But as you twirl around the floor, he fails to find his voice to tell you that he does not harbor any hatred for you at all. You may play those parts in public and it may be true for you, but Jaehyun has never thought of you as the chip on his shoulder.

The rest of the ton stares at you with wide eyes, whispering to one another about the sudden closeness between you.

“Is marrying me such a stain on your character? What, am I not on par with the likes of Kim Jungwoo and Johnny Suh?”

It infuriated him to no end when Jungwoo was courting you. The man did not even know a single thing about you! He was lured in by your pretty face, and Jaehyun snickered to himself when Jungwoo soon discovered that you have an independent mind, judging the man whenever he uttered the wrong thing. Jaehyun was over the moon when Jungwoo ended your courtship.

Johnny, however, was a player that Jaehyun was not expecting. The man was tall, handsome, and could definitely handle your sharp edges better than Jungwoo. Jaehyun worried that you two would actually marry so he shipped himself off for a vacation to avoid seeing you walk down the aisle. He was content when he returned home and learned you were still single.

“Marrying you would tarnish my reputation. I cannot imagine the other ladies respecting the woman who ties herself to the world’s most infamous rake.”

He falters at the insult from you. When his mother had approached him with the idea to marry you, she expected him to swiftly turn it down, so it came as a surprise that he accepted the deal fairly quickly. He honestly could not stand the thought of you marrying the boring Kim Doyoung. The man would not understand how to entertain you, how to keep you on your toes and humor you.

He would never say it out loud, but the prospect of you becoming his wife satisfied him. He could already picture you running his estate with an iron fist, organizing the awful ledgers he has to sort through and checking if each member of the staff is well taken care of.

He wants it. He wants to wake up next to you. He wants to dance with you when there is no one else around. He wants to bury himself into you, listen to your sweet little moans as he tangles a hand through your hair-

He shakes his head to ward away the lewd thoughts threatening to crawl forward. The music slowly comes to a lull, and before he can stop you, you are darting out of his grasp and heading towards the balcony.

He sees your mother attempt to follow you but he stops her with the raise of his hand. He shadows you, keeping his eyes trained on the floral pattern of your gown.

He stops when you saunter out, slamming the doors shut behind you as you lean over the railing to catch your breath. He observes you silently, watching as you sigh and run your fingers through your hair, taking it out of its neat updo.

He waits a little before joining you in the open space.

“I did not realize I would become such a burden for you,” he whispers as you stand side by side.

You scowl at him. “How did you think I would react? Did you think I would jump into your arms and you would carry me off into the sunset?”

“You hate all of the gentlemen in the ton. You have to concede to this fact. And I understand I am not better than the rest of them, but you know me. I would never bend your will or coerce you into submission. You will be free to do as you please, I will not prevent you from your happiness.”

“But you are preventing me! Does this not register with you? I do not want to marry you. You must feel the same way, do you not?”

He hesitates, and the brief second seems to confirm your answer. You exhale and your hands tighten their grip on the railing.

“How long?” You ask in a small voice.

He swallows. “I do not know.”

“I cannot marry you, Jaehyun.”

“I shall inform my mother of your decision tonight. I apologize for causing you grief.”

You spin and saunter back into the ballroom, leaving Jaehyun’s heart crumpled into a mess on the floor.

—

Jaehyun plans to escape his troubles by embarking on a year-long vacation.

Perhaps it is enough time to move on from you, to stop worrying about you all the time and wondering who you might be with. His announcement to the staff about ending your engagement before it has even come to life has his mother in tears. They were instructed to halt all preparations for your wing of the estate and to eat whatever stock of food they had purchased for you.

He’s barely holding himself together as he packs up his things, intent on leaving and not coming back until he is ready to face high society again.

“Lord Jeong, you have a visitor at the door.”

“I am fairly occupied,” he says without missing a beat, grabbing any article of clothing he can find and throwing it into his suitcase.

But then they tell him that you are the one waiting by the door, and that has his feet moving swiftly.

You are fidgeting in the foyer, squirming as members of his household staff walk around you, carrying pieces of the decor that was meant for your bedroom.

“Lord Jeong,” you say with a curtsy, and his eyebrows furrow from the contrast of your behavior last night to today.

“How may I help you?” He asks coldly, desperately wanting to distance himself from you. You never make any task easy for him.

“I wanted to continue our conversation.”

“I did not think there was much more to say. You made your feelings very clear.”

“May we speak in private?”

He guides you into his office, leaving the door open an inch in an effort not to compromise you. You clear your throat once you are alone.

“I have thought it over and have decided to accept your proposal.”

He narrows his eyes. “You have decided to accept? Forgive me, but the last time we spoke, you distinctly voiced your opposition to marrying me. What has changed?”

You look away, your mouth twisting in the way it does when you are particularly peeved by him.

“You are right,” you admit begrudgingly. “I do not like any of the gentlemen in the ton, and I fear I never will. At least with you, I shall still have my freedom and get my mother off my back. I cannot stand another season of this — the balls, the dresses, the constant dancing. I am tired and I just want to live.”

The tension in his shoulders starts to fade. It is not exactly what he wants to hear, but he will take your acceptance if it means he does not have to leave for a year just to forget you.

“So we are carrying through with this?”

You purse your lips. “I cannot fall in love with you. Not in the way you want me to.”

He nods. “T-That is perfectly fine. I was not expecting you to.”

“And we will forgo childbearing until it is absolutely necessary.”

“That sounds plausible.”

“And Yerim is allowed to come over whenever it suits her.”

“Of course.”

You chew on your bottom lip and he resists the urge to take it in between his teeth.

“Where is my ring?”

He blinks twice. “Forgive me?”

“My ring. You must have one picked out.”

He pats his pockets but blanches when he realizes he’s not carrying his mother’s ring with him.

“Can you wait here for a second?”

He sprints upstairs to his mother’s room, startling her handmaidens when he pounds on her door. She opens it with wide eyes.

“Jaehyun, what-”

“Where is your ring?” He asks breathlessly. “The one that father gave you?”

“In my jewelry box. Why?”

“May I have it? Now? Please?”

She fumbles around to look for it, and Jaehyun bounces on the balls of his feet while he waits, fearful that if he does not get that ring on your finger, you shall disappear through the front door and he will never see you again. As soon as his mother hands him the band, he runs back down to his office, relieved when he sees you still standing by the window.

He drops to one knee in front of you and you stare back at him, unamused. He decides to skip the speech in case you change your mind, slipping the ring on your finger as you admire the diamond sparkling in the light.

“It is beautiful,” you murmur, and he thanks the heavens for your approval. You lower your hand as you state, “I shall not attend another lousy ball just for show. We shall wed as soon as we can and negotiate the details after.”

Like a puppy chasing after its tail, he submits to your every request, dreaming of you and him under one roof.

—

The next week is chaos in the Jeong household.

Members of the staff rush left and right, preparing themselves for a wedding they thought had been called off. The favorite gossip of the ton have been surrounding your wedding, pertaining to why you were getting married this quickly, how you went from despising one another to falling in love, and if tying the knot would finally promote Jaehyun from being a rake to a proper lord.

Jaehyun is keen to sit back and watch it all unfold. He has barely seen you as you have been wrapped up in dress fittings and moving your belongings into his home.

It is only the night before your wedding that you rush to his office in a panicked state.

He is startled when the door swings open and you stand there in nothing but your nightgown. You hold a candle in your hand as you scurry to his side.

“What-” he starts, wondering what could be troubling you.

“My mother has divulged to me what a husband is meant to do to his wife on the night of their wedding. I shall inform you that I do not approve of such indiscretions, if that was not made clear before.”

His cheeks flush red when it dawns on him what you must be referring to. Yes, he has conjured up many fantasies late at night, but he never assumed you would willingly lie with him on your first night together as husband and wife.

“Y-Yes, that is understood.”

“Furthermore, I shall not become the wife who sits idly by while you run to a brothel to satisfy your needs. You shall only lie with me, when I feel I am prepared and ready to accept you.”

He leans back in his seat, one eyebrow raised. “Do you think so low of me that I would disrespect you in such a public fashion?”

You huff. “Jaehyun, I am astonished that you have not done so already.”

He narrows his eyes. Before he can retort, the door bursts wide open again and your handmaiden comes rushing in.

“I apologize profusely, Lord Jeong!” She cries. “We were not made aware of her destination. You are not meant to see her like this-”

“You do not need to apologize to him, Seulgi,” you interject with a sigh. “And he shall learn to see all sides of me soon enough.”

Your handmaiden stutters for a response but you poke your finger at Jaehyun with a stern gaze.

“Do not dare forget what I said.”

“How can I when you come traipsing through here in the middle of the night, disturbing me before the biggest day of our lives?”

You exit with a dramatic flair, slamming the doors behind you as your handmaiden follows after. He slumps in his chair, exhausted and wondering how far he has to go to earn your trust.

His mother wakes him the next morning bright and early, chirping happily for the marriage she has waited years for. He readies himself on his own, pulling on his stuffy suit and tie. He thinks about how you must be faring with the glitz and glamour.

His mother and yours had invited almost the entire population of the city to the wedding. People that Jaehyun has never met in his life greet him at the chapel, congratulating him for the momentous occasion. He thanks them with a nervous smile, worried if you will actually show up at the end of the aisle.

Thankfully, when the music plays and the doors open, you step out, dressed in a long, satin white gown. He loses his breath when he looks at you, the picture perfect beauty of a bride. You hesitate under the scrutiny of the ton’s gazes, tightening your grip around your father’s arm.

Jaehyun inhales and exhales slowly. His heart is beating so hard that he can hear the thumping echo in his ears. He can hardly believe this day has come, and even more so that you agreed to marry him.

You must be running through the same thought process, for when your father hands you over to Jaehyun, you stare at him wide eyed. He takes your hand in his, soothing you by running his thumb over the back of your wrist. It unwinds you a little when you stand in front of the priest.

The priest drones on and on about eternal love and the sacred vow between husband and wife. Jaehyun keeps his eyes trained on you, watching you from the corner of his eye to ensure you are faring well.

When you turn to him to seal your lips in a kiss, his heart stops beating.

“Breathe,” he whispers just before his mouth touches yours. He can feel you trembling in his hold.

“Why do they have to keep looking at us?” You murmur.

“Because you are too pretty for them to look away.”

“You are full of it, Lord Jeong.”

His tongue traces over your bottom lip before he can stop himself. A couple’s first kiss at their wedding should be a light peck, something God would approve of.

Jaehyun does not give a damn what God thinks.

There is a small gasp in the audience when his tongue slips into your mouth. You arch into him, calm for the first time in hours.

When you break away, you blink up at him, and his curiosity flares up. Did it feel good for you too?

The crowd erupts in applause and you step away from him, smiling shyly at them. Jaehyun kicks into autopilot, walking you back down the aisle as you laugh with the people surrounding you.

When you are escorted into the gardens for your reception, he swallows.

“Well, it is over.”

You purse your lips. “Y-Yes. That kiss was-”

Your mother comes around the corner, crying as she envelops you in a hug. You pat her back awkwardly as she sobs.

“Oh, darling, I am so happy for you! So, so happy!”

Then Jaehyun’s mother mobs him, cooing about how handsome he looks. You find yourselves on opposite ends of the large space, controlling the flock of people who demand to know the next steps of your marriage.

Jaehyun fields questions left and right that are clearly an invasion of his privacy.

“How many children do you two want to have?”

“I think the best time to start making babies is right after the wedding. It’s when your hormones are at their peak. Do you not agree, Lord Jeong?”

“My theory is that you should lock yourselves away for at least two months so the seed will sprout and grow. Does that not sound wonderful?”

By the time he finds his way back to you, you both are worse for wear.

“Lord Jeong, Lady Jeong!”

You grab Jaehyun’s hand and sprint into the hedge maze. He tries not to trip over your skirt as you weave through the walls of the garden, catching your breath once you find yourselves trapped in the middle.

“They are incessant vultures!” You hiss, ripping the veil from your hair and tossing it to the side. “I mean, honestly. Who granted them the authority to decide when and how I should have a child?”

“Lady Baek almost gave me advice on how her husband gets it up! As if I need to hear such disturbing counsel regarding a man about to turn seventy!” He grunts.

You shudder. “We shall camp out here until they have all grown too tired to stick around. What was my mother thinking when she invited that many people?”

You collapse on the ground together, paying no mind to the grass stains covering your dress or the dirt coating the bottom of his pants. You listen to the steady sound of each other’s breathing, grateful to be away from the incessant noise.

He clears his throat. “What were you saying earlier? About the kiss?”

You cough. “Oh, um, nothing. It was merely surprising, that is all.”

“Sorry if I did not live up to your expectations.”

“That was not what I meant,” you mumble, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. “I hardly expected you to kiss me so… passionately. In all of the weddings I have attended, the groom never devours his bride like that.”

“I did not devour you,” he corrects, flustered by your accusation.

A moment passes before you burst into a fit of laughter. He should be mad with you, but when he glances over to see you giggling into your palm, he finds the corners of his lips lifting upwards.

You settle into your harmonious laughter for a few minutes, riding on the blissful cloud of your new marriage. He did not think it had become such a huge burden on his shoulders, but he is relieved he no longer has to deal with mingling in crowded ballrooms, debating on whether he should ask you to dance or leave entirely.

The recollection has him springing to his feet. You stare up at him in confusion when he holds out his hand.

“Join me.”

“You cannot be serious, Jaehyun.”

He clicks his tongue. “I obliged to all of your rules. Come here and dance with me.”

You grumble as he helps pull you up. Once you are in his arms, he wraps a hand around your waist, holding you steady as you rest your hand on his shoulder.

The moonlight dances over your features and he swears he has never seen a sight more beautiful.

“Yerim was telling me something the other day that I found interesting,” you say.

He quirks up an eyebrow. “What did she say?”

“That you only attend balls when I am present. And that you will speak about me to anyone who will listen.”

“Do not let it go to your head,” he teases weakly.

You do not allow him to escape that easily because evidently, you love to embarrass him at any given chance.

“How long, Jaehyun?”

He thinks about the night out on the balcony when you were asking him this question with the intention to break his heart and never return.

“A long time,” he confesses. “Likely when we first met.”

You shake your head. “Why? Why me? Out of all the women in the ton-”

“The rest of the women in the ton could never hold a candle to you,” he swears, looking deep into your eyes, hoping you memorize every word. “I know you think of me as a reckless rake who will insert myself into any woman’s bed, but you must know how devoted I am to you. You are the only person I find myself laughing with, the only person who can keep up with me and drive me insane all at once. I dream of you. I understand this marriage is all a means to an end to you, but you are the only lady I have ever wanted.”

He nearly chokes when you pounce on him, smashing your lips together until he’s stumbling back into the hedges. His hands rest on your hips as you chase after him.

Your tongues fight for dominance and he realizes just how hungry he is. He has been holding himself back to preserve your dignity, but with God as his witness, you are now his wife and he gets to make you writhe in pleasure if it is his sole desire.

He bunches up your skirt, slipping his hand underneath the mountains of fabric. He growls when your corset gets in the way of the prize he really wants.

“Get this off,” he hisses, tugging at the tight strands that hug your bodice.

“Our mothers will come looking for us,” is all you can reply with.

“I do not care,” he says. “I need you.”

But a gasp interrupts your fervent entanglement. You jump apart to see his mother standing in front of you, appalled by the sight of you two.

“Jeong Jaehyun, I raised you to be a gentleman!” She scolds, approaching you and helping you look presentable again. You avoid her glare. “You both need a lesson in understanding what is acceptable for you to do in public. Just because you are married does not give you the right to behave like animals!”

She tugs you away with a huff, and Jaehyun’s head crashes against the hedge, his cock aching to be stuffed inside you.

—

You are avoiding your husband.

You do not know what has gotten into you. At first, you were loathing the creature you were forced to marry, hoping one day he would magically incinerate and you could avoid having to call him your husband. But then he was confessing to you, telling you everything a lady has always wanted to hear.

It is the first time you have ever experienced the spark of attraction to a gentleman. It is the first time you became content in getting married. It is the first time you felt… desire.

But you are not supposed to let Jeong Jaehyun get the best of you. You hide away in the daytime at Yerim’s home, brushing off her probing questions.

“It’s your honeymoon. Should you not be at home?”

You smile tightly at her. “And miss spending time with you? Of course not. Now, tell me all about Na Jaemin.”

You do not return back to the Jeong estate until supper, where you have a tense gathering with your husband across the dining table. True to his word, Jaehyun refuses to touch you until you initiate it first, which is driving you both mad with insatiable lust.

“How was your day with Yerim?” He asks stiffly, spooning soup into his mouth.

“G-Good. Sir Na has taken a liking to her. He lives in the countryside, however, and I selfishly do not want her to move away if they are to be betrothed.”

“Yes, it might be quite terrible if you were left alone in the presence of your husband with nowhere to flee.”

You narrow your eyes. “If you are insinuating something, Jaehyun, then please do not subject me to your mind games. I would rather you speak the truth.”

He smiles devilishly. “You first.”

You keep your mouth sealed shut for the rest of the meal. Even when you prepare yourselves to climb into bed together, your bedroom is filled with such unspeakable tension that you could cut with a knife.

You occupy yourself by opening a book, observing from the corner of your eye as Jaehyun turns on his side and blows his candle out. You tap your nails against the hardcover, blurting out your next statement before you can stop yourself.

“You never told me about your day.”

He muses over how to reply before he states, “I was lonely, craving a wife who wants nothing to do with me.”

You pout like a child. “I told you I am not going to fall in love with you.”

“I remember.”

It’s summer when Yerim and Jaemin get engaged. Yerim’s mother is so thrilled that she hosts a celebration party, where you and Jaehyun attend arm-in-arm, pretending to be civil with one another. You are bombarded with an onslaught of questions pertaining to how your marriage is faring, and if the ton can expect a new baby boy or girl to arrive any day now.

You stick with the excuse of, “We are trying,” to get them to go away.

Yerim pulls you aside to her bedchamber later that night, smiling widely. The joy in her expression has not left her face all night, and it comforts you to know she will be taken care of in the countryside, despite being so far from you.

“What a night!” She exclaims, falling on her mattress in glee. “I have never been this happy before, I swear it to you.”

“I can tell,” you laugh, patting her knee. “It satisfies me to know Jaemin has you this giddy.”

She chews her lip when she sits up, and she has the expression on her face that screams she has a secret.

“Can I tell you something? In the confidence of our friendship?”

“Of course,” you say, sitting next to her on the bed.

She twiddles her thumbs, clearly thrumming with nervousness. “The other day, Jaemin and I were alone.”

You gasp. “Yerim! You are not supposed to be with him unchaperoned until after you are wed!”

Her cheeks bloom a bright shade of red. “We did a lot of things we are supposed to do after we are wed.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and the prompt scolding you are about to give her dies down in your throat.

“W-What did he do?”

“Amazing things,” she exhales dreamily. “Do you know how good it feels when they put their mouth… down there?”

“Yerim!” You say, scandalized.

She giggles. “So you and Jaehyun still have not-”

“No,” you confirm with the shake of your head. “No, we have not. And we will not until we absolutely need to.”

She nudges your shoulder. “He is your husband now, you know. Not a rake who is looking to bed you just because he can.”

You clear your throat and rise from your spot on the bed. “We should head back downstairs. People might be searching for you.”

She’s slightly downcast by your quick dismissal but follows you without protest. You are warm from the brief discussion, imagining what Jaehyun would look like nestled in between your thighs, staring up at you with unadulterated hunger.

The vision abruptly leaves your mind once you land on the last step, spotting your husband being flanked by Sooyoung, a girl he used to be very friendly with. She is giggling at him, her hand caressing his bicep as she hangs off his every word.

You freeze, your throat growing dry at your husband openly flirting with another lady in front of you. In Jaehyun’s defense, he does not seem to be paying any attention to her, his eyes fluttering around the room.

When he finds you, you dart towards the exit, ignoring both Yerim and Jaehyun’s cries of your name. As you request for your carriage to be brought forward, a hand wraps around your wrist.

“You have made assumptions.”

You tear your hand away from Jaehyun with a glare. “I hardly care who you speak to. I am going home, the party’s over.”

He growls your name and the staff lingering nearby pretend to look disinterested.

“Do not behave like this.”

Once your carriage rolls up, you climb in, refusing Jaehyun’s help. You try to close the door behind you but your husband pushes his way inside, preventing you from making your dramatic escape.

“I do not possess any feelings for Sooyoung,” he sighs. “I never have.”

“I do not care! I am merely humiliated by the fact that you would display your affection for her in front of everyone! I know those people, Jaehyun, and I strictly told you before we were married that I would not become the wife who would stand idly by while her husband is wrapped up in an affair!”

“I am not in an affair!” You are both screaming too loud to hide your troubles from the outside. “I have never had an affair. I am devoted to you! I dream of you! How many times must I say this to you? Sooyoung approached me, asking me how I have been. I told her I was not interested in her folly and I was waiting for your return. What took you so long with Yerim anyways?”

You are riled up with anger and frustration. “She was educating me about how a proper husband takes care of his wife. Tell me, did you ever get on your knees for Sooyoung? Did you press your mouth in between her thighs?”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline, clearly not expecting you to quip back with that. You fold your arms across your chest, pouting and refusing to look at him.

You gasp when his hands suddenly pull up your dress and he sinks to his knees. You back yourself up against the wall of the carriage.

“Jaehyun, what are you doing?” You hiss.

“If you wanted to know what it feels like, you could have just asked.”

You glance around worriedly but the carriage still moves on, and the drapery covering the windows protects anyone from the outside to witness your husband wiggling his way underneath your dress.

You do not stop him, interested in how determined he is to prove himself to you. Your fingertips dart out to hold the sides of the carriage when his lips graze over your core.

You cup a hand over your mouth to keep your moans at bay. You have never dared to touch yourself in your most sensitive area. It’s unseemly for a lady of your status, and you feel as if you shall be damned to hell if you ever crossed that line.

But Jaehyun is your husband, so this must be allowed in heaven, right?

You lurch forward when his tongue runs over your folds. You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as he starts to lick at your dripping cunt. He laps at you as if you are his next meal and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You are entirely too sensitive that you could cry, your body shuddering as Jaehyun buries himself deeper into your pussy.

The carriage comes to a halt as you sob, your hands tangling into his hair as your peak washes over you. When he pops his head back up, he’s grinning with your slick covering his chin.

“How was it, my dear wife?”

“Get inside the house.”

The staff are flustered when you scramble past them. Jaehyun’s hands dig into the flesh of your waist as he leads you inside, dismissing the staff by hoisting you up on the singular table in the foyer, knocking down his mother’s favorite vase.

You bring his mouth to yours as the spark inside you bursts into flames. Months of tension finally unravel as he pushes your thighs apart, slotting himself in until he’s rolling down into your core.

“Jaehyun,” you whine. “Please.”

“Did Yerim tell you what men can do with their fingers?” He asks, his bottom lip dragging over your jawline.

“N-No.”

You squeak when he unlaces your corset, practically ripping it in half in his efforts to peel it off of you. His mouth is drawn to the swell of your breasts, taking your exposed nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud.

A maid comes from around the corner at the sound of the broken glass from the vase, but she chokes when she sees her employers dangling off a tiny table, enraptured in one another.

When he slips a finger inside you, you’re driven wild with lust. None of the noble lords and ladies would recognize you if they saw you now, encouraging your husband to use his teeth while sucking at your breasts and begging him to stuff more fingers inside your cunt.

“Dear God,” you sob when his thumb circles at your clit.

You have never felt pleasure like this in your entire life. Is this why women get married? Is this why they subject themselves to uncomfortable corsets and boring dances?

“You like it, do you not?” He questions in a mocking tone, hovering over you with a darkened gaze. “Imagine how we could have had this months ago if you had only swallowed your pride. Falling in love with me does not sound so horrifying anymore, does it?”

His teeth sink into the juncture of your neck as you chant his name. You cum when he inserts another digit inside your wet hole, curling his fingers forward, causing you to feel boneless in his grasp.

“I will not have our first time be like this,” he says, licking his fingers clean and carrying you in his arms.

“The bedroom is too far,” you reply, wanting to jump his bones immediately.

He chuckles. “You made me wait months. I think you can handle a few minutes.”

The room is spotless when you walk in, making you feel slightly guilty for ruining the staff’s hard work. But then Jaehyun drops you on the mattress and unlaces his breeches, and your focus hones in on his lower half. Your vision grows heavy when he reveals himself.

You never quite understood what gentlemen were packing down there, but you surely never would have guessed this. His member is long, thick, and veiny, startling you when he wraps a hand around his base.

“W-What are you planning to do with that?”

He laughs. “My wife, this is meant to go inside you.”

Your brain stops working for a second. He senses your hesitance, smiling playfully as he leans over you, kissing you gently.

“I shall take it slow. It shall feel good once you get used to the stretch.”

“Do you promise?” You say timidly.

He nods. “It helps that you are already so wet.” You scoff when he swipes his fingers over the wetness coating your thighs. He kisses every inch of exposed skin he can find, helping you loosen up to take his massive cock. “It is going to hurt the first time, but I swear it will get easier.”

“Who said we would be doing this again?” You inquire.

His chuckle vibrates against the shell of your ear. “Trust me. We shall definitely do this again.”

He lines himself up to your entrance, distracting you with a kiss. You never believed kissing could be worthwhile, but you find that you do not mind the act at all when it comes to your husband.

But Christ, is he trying to split you in half?

“Hurts,” you whimper as he gradually pushes in.

He stops immediately. “Do you want me to pull out?”

You shake your head. “No, no. Just… make it feel better.”

“You like it when I touch you here,” he says, returning his thumb to your clit, rubbing the nub in slow circles.

You close your eyes, powering through the overwhelming pain with the small windows of pleasure. Jaehyun does not appear to be experiencing the same issues, gritting his teeth when he bottoms out.

“You are squeezing me too tightly,” he groans. “Ease up a little, wife. I am going to finish before we have truly started.”

“I cannot! You are intent in destroying me!” You retort.

“Fuck,” he curses, dropping his head to rest between your neck and shoulder. “Tell me when I should start moving.”

“Moving?” You pale. “Is this not the entire thing?”

“I thought your mother explained this to you the night before our wedding?”

“She never discussed the specifics!”

His hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You blink back the tears threatening to spill and he smiles at you, assuring you that everything is going to be okay.

“Do you trust me? You must trust me a little at this point.”

“A little,” you grumble. “Don’t push your luck.”

He moves to sit on his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders and holding them in place while he thrusts into you. Initially, he’s apologizing for the pain, but you slowly adjust to his size and your wetness begins to emit a thwacking sound against the flesh of his thighs.

Moans spill out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“That is it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

You would not think that Jaehyun’s praise would have such an effect upon you. You are whining for him as his cock batters into your pussy, staining the sheets with the mix of your wetness.

“I shall not last,” he says through bated breaths. “You are squeezing me too tightly.”

Moments later, he spills into you, filling you with the warmth of his cum. He withdraws himself to replace his length with his fingers, swirling them inside your cunt until you are falling over the edge of your third climax.

He collapses next to you, his chest rising up and down. You gaze at him shyly.

“So when shall the baby come?”

He smiles at you. “It normally does not take the first time. We have to keep trying until you feel the babe start to grow.”

You narrow your eyes. “You are surely making that up.”

He winks. “Trust me. We shall practice until you acquire a taste for it.”

—

You and Jaehyun apologize profusely to the staff the next day for your behavior, but they simply smile and tell you to work hard in your baby making efforts.

You are both startled when you approach the breakfast table to see his mother sitting there, sipping on her morning cup of tea.

“M-Mother?” Jaehyun stutters. “What are you doing here? I thought you were away handling matters of the estate.”

She smiles knowingly at you, and you slink behind your husband’s back, feeling like a child who has been scolded for eating too many treats.

“I wanted to check in on you. I arrived last night.”

“Last night?” You and Jaehyun both question in shock.

You recall his messy display of fingering you in the foyer for everyone to witness. Did his mother see her son ravaging you? Did she watch you fall apart under his touch?

Her grin seems to convey your answer. She gestures to the chairs beside her.

“Come and sit. I want to hear all about my future grandchild.”

You return to your bedchamber after breakfast feeling mortified. Jaehyun tries to soothe your worries with a gentle hand at your back.

“It is very normal for a husband and wife to be intimate.”

“Not for a lady to expose herself in front of her mother-in-law and the staff!”

He winces. “I am certain that they found the scene to be arousing, if anything.”

You dig your head into the pillows, pouting. “You fail at lifting up my spirits.”

You feel him peppering kisses over your shoulder, his hands wandering where they should not be. You try to swat them away but he whines in your ear.

“She already knows about us anyway. Let me have a little fun.”

You turn on your side to face him, grazing your fingers over his cheek. You hate that Yerim was right — your husband is very handsome.

“When I said I would never fall in love-”

“It is fine. I understand.”

“No, no,” you correct, tracing his jawline. “I was going to say that I think I could. If you give me enough time and if you do not act like an insufferable rake, I could see myself loving you.”

He smirks. “I am quite flattered.”

You roll your eyes. “Can you do that thing with your mouth again?”

“Happy to oblige, wife.”

Hunger.

Others chewed on their thoughts; you chewed on the essence of people. You could taste emotion the way a tongue knows salt. Sadness lingered sour and metallic, like fruit left too long to rot. Anger burned—hot, peppered, alive. Fear, though—that was delicate, like thin slices of cold meat melting on your tongue.

People never understood how their moods had flavors, how every glance, every tremor in their voice, seasoned the air. They talked of empathy, of feeling what others felt. But you devoured it. You took it in, swallowed whole the ache behind their words, the trembling of their secrets.

Humans bare themselves like animals when they think no one sees. The body always remembers it has teeth; the soul, that it once knew how to bite.

“What the fuck?!”

Sunghoon almost screamed, the flashlight shaking in his hand before he nearly dropped it. The beam landed on you, catching the red smear across your mouth, the wet shine of blood dripping down your chin. For a second, he couldn’t move. Every hair on his body stood stiff as his brain struggled to make sense of what he was seeing—the body in front of you, torn open, ribs cracked, skin peeled back like something butchered.

His stomach twisted, a heavy wave of bile crawling up his throat. He had seen people die before—hell, he’d caused plenty of it himself. Death wasn’t new. Blood wasn’t new. He knew the smell of it, the weight of a body cooling under his hands. Killing was part of his work, orders are passed down and he will pull the trigger, he don’t think.

But this—this was different.

He couldn’t even call it killing. It was something beyond that, it was filthy and wrong in a way that made his skin crawl. He kept staring, his pulse hammering as the sound of you chewing reached him.

He’d been running for hours, hunted by the same men he used to work with, desperate to get away. He thought he’d lost them, thought he could sneak back and grab the stash of cash before disappearing for good. He’d even killed one of them on the way out, no time for guilt. But now... Jesus Christ! Now the man he’d killed was lying there, and you were crouched over him, tearing into the flesh like it was food.

Sunghoon’s throat closed up. His grip on the flashlight tightened until his knuckles went white. He wanted to back away, to bolt, but his legs wouldn’t listen. He just stood there, staring, the echo of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, thinking one single thing over and over again— What the fuck did he just walk into?

You just stared at him, eyes blank and unbothered, gnawing on the bone. Sunghoon crouched a few feet away, his legs shaking as he tried to steady his breathing. His eyes flicked between you and the corpse sprawled out in the dirt. He could see the knife in your hand glint faintly. For a second, he tried to figure out if he could knock it out of your grip, maybe grab some cash from the dead man’s pockets before getting the hell out of there.

But you didn’t even look at him when he slowly reached forward. You were too busy tearing into what was left of the man’s ribs, the wet sound of chewing filling the air.

“Uh… eat well,” he muttered weakly.

He froze when a distant noise broke the silence—boots trampling through the far end of the cornfield. His body stiffened instantly, his hand going straight to the gun tucked at his belt.

“Fuck…” he whispered under his breath, teeth clenched. He knew that sound. His old co-workers. The bastards were close, sweeping the area.

He glanced at you again, and to his horror, you were listening too, tilting your head toward the noise like some curious animal. You dragged your tongue slowly across your bloody fingers, sucking the red off one by one.

Sunghoon made a face, disgust crawling through him. “Yuck,” he hissed quietly. He had to go. The cash he’d grabbed was enough to keep him alive for at least a week, maybe two if he was careful. That should’ve been enough reason to leave you there and run.

He turned off his flashlight and started moving quietly, crouching low, every step careful not to draw attention. He counted his steps—one, two, ten, fifteen—trying to ignore the sticky sound of your chewing that still rang in his ears. But then, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he stopped. He stood there in the dark, breath shallow, before cursing himself.

“Idiot,” he muttered. He turned back.

You were still there, crouched in the dirt, eating. The sight made his stomach twist again. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then whispered harshly, “Hey. You’re gonna get yourself killed. Those guys—they’ve got guns. You should run.”

You lifted your eyes to him slowly, then looked down at the corpse again. “I’m still hungry,” you said.

He stared at you for a second, not sure if you were serious or just completely gone in the head. “Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit,” he muttered, but his feet didn’t move. He watched as you tried to crack the bone again, struggling with the angle, grunting quietly as your hands slipped.

“Fuck’s sake…” Sunghoon hissed under his breath. Against every bit of sense he had left, he knelt beside the body and grabbed the limb. The bone gave a wet snap as he pulled it free, the sound making him gag. The smell hit him harder this time, thick and rotten. He had to swallow hard to keep his stomach from turning inside out.

“Done. Let’s go,” he rasped, wiping his hands on his pants. You didn’t argue. He grabbed your arm and yanked you up, and for a moment you just stood there staring at him, blood still dripping down your chin. Then, as the voices in the distance grew louder, you both ran.

The two of you stumbled through the cornfield, the dry stalks slapping at your arms. Sunghoon’s breath came out ragged, his chest burning with every step. You clutched the bone close to you like it was something precious, refusing to let go. And neither of you looked back.

Dumb. Sunghoon is so fucking dumb.

He knew it from the start, but seeing you sitting there on that dirty bench just made it hit harder.

The morning sun was creeping up over the horizon. You sat there quiet, legs still, holding a cracked bone in both hands and sucking on it like it was breakfast. The blood had dried into dark stains down the front of your white-brown dress. You didn’t care. You just kept pulling at the marrow with slow, steady motions while the world around you started to wake up.

A few meters away, Sunghoon was finishing a deal with a man near a dusty motorcycle. The guy looked like the kind who’d sell his own mother if it meant getting a bit of extra cash.

Sunghoon tossed a folded stack of bills at him, impatience in his voice. “You sure there’s no damage here? This shit’s expensive. I’m the third person who’s gonna use this, and if you’re scamming me, I’ll fucking blow your head off.”

The man caught the money awkwardly, trying to smile. “It’s full tank, runs smooth, I swear. Still in good shape and, uh…” His voice trailed off when he noticed you on the bench. His face twisted a little, eyes narrowing.

Sunghoon stepped sideways immediately, putting himself between the man’s stare and you. “She’s in character for the Halloween party downtown,” he snapped. “Stop looking at my girl. You’re pissing me off.”

The man lifted his hands fast, muttering an apology, and handed over the key. Sunghoon didn’t even thank him. He grabbed the keys, turned his back, and walked toward you, jaw tight.

He regretted this already. Taking you along was the dumbest fucking idea he’d had in years. The smell of blood on your dress was pissing him off, the sight of you was pissing him off, and the memory of what he’d seen you do last night wouldn’t leave his head. He already had more than enough problems—people after him, a bounty probably already circulating, and nowhere safe to go. Now he had a quiet freak sitting next to him, chewing bones in daylight like it was normal.

He stopped in front of you and stared. You just looked up at him, face blank, eyes too calm for what you were. There was something almost childlike about it, which somehow made it worse. He’d heard about people like you—stories of lunatics, cannibals, cult weirdos—but never thought he’d meet one who looked so damn harmless. It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

He sighed hard, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look,” he said finally, “I can’t take you with me. I can’t afford to. We’re not even that far from the next town. You can walk there, maybe find someone who’ll help. Go back home, or wherever the hell you came from.”

You didn’t answer at first. You lowered the bone, your lips pressed tight, eyes darting to the side like you were thinking about something you didn’t want to say. Then, softly, “Can I… be with you?”

Sunghoon frowned, brow furrowing deep. “Are you fucking deaf? I said I can’t take you.”

“I have money,” you murmured.

He barked a short laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “The hell do I care about your money? Go back to your home.”

“The villagers are hunting me,” you said, voice even quieter. “They burned my house.”

Sunghoon froze for half a second. He almost said it—that’s what you get for eating people. But he stopped himself. He didn’t need to get involved. Whatever shit you were in wasn’t his problem.

Then you reached into the pocket of your dress and pulled out a small folded wad of bills, handing it to him with both hands. Sunghoon blinked down at it, dumbfounded.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered as he took it, unfolding it just enough to see the amount. “Ten bucks? You’re giving me ten fucking dollars?”

He stared at you like he couldn’t believe what kind of joke the world was playing on him. You only looked back with those wide, unbothered eyes, as if ten dollars really meant something.

Sunghoon cursed under his breath again, stuffing the crumpled bills deep into his pocket and staring down the empty road that stretched ahead.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at himself for what he was doing. Every nerve in his body told him to walk away, to leave you sitting there on that bench and never look back.

But somehow, an hour later, you were clinging to him on the motorcycle as he drove toward the city. Your arms were wrapped tight around his waist, your chin pressed lightly against his back. The smell of blood still lingered from your dress. It made his stomach turn, but he kept his eyes on the road and told himself it was only until he found a safe place to drop you off.

He didn’t talk during the ride. The wind was loud, the road rough, and every time he glanced at the side mirror, he saw your face — calm, eyes half-closed, hair flying around you as if none of this was strange. He wanted to shout at you, ask what the hell was wrong with you, but he didn’t. He just rode until the city outline came into view.

He stopped at a gas station on the outskirts, one of those rundown. Sunghoon parked the bike near the restroom and turned to you, wiping sweat off his neck. “Stay here,” he said. “Don’t follow me.”

He locked you in the bathroom before you could respond. You didn’t resist, just watched him through the small dirty window as he walked off. He came back after a while with a plastic bag of new clothes — jeans, a plain shirt, something cheap from the discount rack inside. Without saying a word, he tossed them through the door before unlocking it again. You came out quietly, dressed in the new clothes, but still holding the same damn bone in your hand.

He left the gas station and walked down a narrow service road until the sound of cars faded away. There, behind the trees where no one would see, Sunghoon dumped both your old clothes and his into a pile on the dirt. He poured gasoline from a small bottle and lit it with a match. The fire caught quick and you both stood there watching the flames eat away the blood, the dirt, everything that tied you to last night. The light flickered against your face, and you still didn’t move, your hand gripping the bone tight.

“Throw it away,” Sunghoon said, his voice sharp with irritation.

You turned to look at him out of the corner of your eye, not saying anything. Your gaze dropped to the bone, your fingers tightening around it.

“I said throw it away,” he repeated, louder this time.

When you didn’t move, he clicked his tongue hard, snatched it from your hand, and tossed it into the fire. The bone hit the flames with a small crack, the white turning dark as it burned.

You gasped quietly, your lips trembling as your eyes began to water. Sunghoon didn’t look back. He was already walking toward the motorcycle, his shoulders tense, his patience gone.

“Hop in,” he said over his shoulder, voice rough. “I’m tired. I want to rest. Stop wasting my fucking time.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and followed. The night swallowed the sound of the fire behind you as the two of you got back on the road. The bike roared to life, and neither of you spoke again.

Sunghoon had gotten used to surviving off scraps, pickpocketing strangers and trading whatever junk he could find in the city. It wasn’t easy, but he’d done worse before. The hard part wasn’t stealing or running from cops; it was switching places every few days, finding new cheap inns that didn’t ask questions, and keeping his head down.

What made it unbearable was you—always walking behind him like a quiet shadow, following him through the noise and the smoke and the stinking food stalls with that same blank, innocent look on your face. He didn’t know why he hadn’t told you to fuck off sooner. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was stupidity. Probably both.

A week passed, and somehow you were still there. You didn’t eat anything he gave you. He’d tried everything from bread to instant noodles to a street hotdog, waving it right under your nose, telling you to stop being so fucking weird and just eat something normal. You only shook your head, calm and blunt, eyes down, as if food wasn’t for you. He gave up after that. If you wanted to starve, that was your problem, not his. He told himself he wasn’t responsible for you, not anymore.

You didn’t talk much, either. Sometimes he wondered if you just couldn’t, or if you chose not to. When you did speak, it was short—your name, that one time, and nothing else. He told you his in return, and that was it.

After a few more days, he started thinking seriously about leaving you. He didn’t owe you anything, and you didn’t seem like you even cared where you went. He figured he could just ditch you somewhere safe, maybe by a bus stop or a marketplace, and you’d find your own way. The thought rolled in his head for a while until, one afternoon, as the two of you walked through a busy street, he decided it was time.

“Stay here,” he said, motioning to a bench near a line of parked bikes. “I’ll just buy something.”

You looked up, eyes blank but obedient. “Buy what?”

“Some shits,” he muttered, already walking off.

He could almost taste the relief as soon as he turned the corner. His chest felt lighter, his steps quicker. That was it. He was free. He didn’t look back.

He went straight to the inn he’d been renting, shoved his few clothes into a plastic bag, and stuffed them into his backpack. When he turned to the table and saw the dresses he’d bought for you folded neatly on the chair, his stomach twisted a little. He stared at them for a few seconds before shaking his head, muttering something under his breath he didn’t mean. Then he grabbed his things and left, ignoring the weight sitting in his chest.

He crossed into another town the next day, rented a new room, started picking pockets again, selling whatever stolen goods he could. Life went back to what it was supposed to be—simple, quiet, and ugly. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the thought out of his head. It crawled back every night when he tried to sleep, every morning when he looked at his reflection and saw the same tired face staring back.

Ten days passed. He couldn’t stop wondering if you were still sitting on that bench, if you had moved, if someone had found you. He told himself he didn’t care. You weren’t his problem. You weren’t his responsibility. You were probably long gone anyway. But something about it wouldn’t let go.

“Idiot,” he muttered, cursing himself as he kicked the bike into gear and turned the handle. The engine roared to life, loud enough to drown out the guilt in his head. He drove for hours, back toward the same city, the same street, the same damn bench.

When he arrived, his chest went tight.

You were still there.

You were in the same place where he left you. Same bench, same clothes, same blank look. It was like time hadn’t touched you at all. You sat still, staring at nothing, hands on your lap, hair a little messier, face pale. For a long moment, Sunghoon didn’t move. He stayed by the bike, helmet still in his hand, his throat tight and dry. He felt that familiar guilt crawl back up — sitting in his chest like a bad meal he couldn’t digest.

He muttered a curse under his breath, ran a hand through his hair, and finally took a step forward. You were really still there. He couldn’t decide if you were just dumb, stubborn. Yeah, you were definitely dumb, more than him.

Then, as if you’d sensed him, your head turned. Your eyes met his instantly, that same innocent gleam sparking up like it hadn’t dimmed once in all those days. Your lips parted, soft and surprised, a small gasp escaping as your expression changed. You stood up in a hurry, wiping your hands on your dress before waving at him, that strange smile spreading on your face. It was the first time he’d ever seen you smile at all. It caught him off guard — it looked so out of place, too pure for what you really were.

He didn’t even know what the hell came over him, but before he could think twice, he parked the bike and started walking toward you. His steps were slow at first, then quicker, and the next thing he knew, his arms were around you.

You made a small, high sound, shocked by how tight he was holding you. He didn’t care. He just held you, eyes shut.

“Sorry,” he said quietly against your hair.

You hesitated for a second before mumbling, “Back… you’re back…” Your voice shook a little as your arms awkwardly came up to return the hug. “Hungry… I’m hungry…”

He sighed into your shoulder, half tired, half relieved, feeling something heavy loosen in him. “We’re going to eat,” he said, finally letting go and looking down at you. “What do you want?”

You looked up at him with that same calm, innocent face and answered without thinking, “Happy people.”

Sunghoon let out a short laugh.

He didn’t say anything after that, just stared at the wall of the warehouse he'd found.

The night air was cold, the wind blowing through cracks in the metal sheets. You sat on the floor with your knees pulled close, watching him while he cleaned his knife again and again without reason.

He told himself he wasn’t doing this for you. He told himself that over and over as he went out that night, wandering through the alleys, looking for whatever would quiet the voice in his head that kept repeating your words. By the time he came back, hours later, he had a large case in his hand. He didn’t tell you what was inside, and you didn’t ask. You only looked at it with that soft, hungry smile that made his skin crawl.

When he dropped it on the table, you reached for it right away.

He turned away, sat on an old wooden chair, and pulled a worn book from his pocket. The paper edges were yellowed, the letters fading, but it was something to look at while you busied yourself behind him. The sound of you eating echoed in the background. He tried to focus on the words in front of him, but they blurred.

After a while the noises stopped, and the silence pressed down. When he looked up, you were walking toward him with something wrapped in a torn cloth. Your hands were shaking slightly, your mouth messy, your eyes bright. You sat beside him and pushed the bundle toward him like a child giving a gift.

“For you,” you said softly, then turned your head away, shy and uncertain.

Sunghoon stared at it for a long moment before shaking his head. “Keep it,” he said quietly, his tone flat. “You need it more.”

You hesitated, then set it aside and leaned a little closer to look at the book in his hand. “What’re you reading?”

He shrugged. “Some literary crap. Poems, stories, old shit.” He flipped it so you could see the lines printed on the page. “You read?”

You nodded, smiling faintly. “I can read.” Your voice was calm, almost pleased. “You like reading?”

“I used to,” he said after a pause. “I loved writing more. But that crap doesn’t feed you. It’s useless when you’re broke.”

You stayed quiet for a few seconds, then spoke again, voice small. “You could try again.”

Sunghoon huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Try again? For what? You think words are gonna pay for a room or buy food? Nah. It’s just nonsense.”

You watched him for a while, then smiled again, quiet and strange. “I love reading,” you said. “But I don’t have books.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, sighed, and pushed the old book toward you. “Then take this one. It’s not worth shit anyway.”

You touched the cover like it was something delicate, then nodded once.

Weeks turned into months, and the two of you never stayed in one place for long. You traveled from city to city, sleeping in rundown motels or abandoned buildings, always moving before dawn. People kept disappearing — faces shown on missing posters, names called out on the evening news — but Sunghoon never cared enough to watch. He knew how the world worked. The police would drag in some poor bastard to take the blame, the public would sigh with relief, and everything would go quiet again.

He did the killing; you did the eating. Later, when you were done, he cleaned up the mess — burning clothes, scrubbing blood from the floor, making sure nothing was left behind.

Sometimes, when the night was calm, and you were sitting by a fire licking the blood off your fingers, he’d think about what you said once — about writing again. He’d laugh to himself, realizing that somehow, you had become his weakness. You, with that small voice and strange gentleness that made him forget what kind of monster he really was.

Sunghoon was dumb, he thought. Dumb for feeling anything at all while watching you crouched over a body, eating piece by piece with that same innocent look. The sight should have made him sick, but instead, it made something in his chest ache in a way he couldn’t explain.

When you were done, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and looked up at him. “Thank you,” you whispered, smiling shyly.

He nodded and flipped a page in his book, pretending to read, but his eyes drifted to you again. This time, there was no blood smeared across your face. Only your lips were stained red, glossy and clean, like you’d been careful not to make a mess.

“Eat with me?” you asked, pointing to the body sprawled open on the floor, blood still dripping from the ribs.

He stared at it for a moment, then back at you. “No, thank you,” he said quietly.

You pouted, turning your head away with that same shy motion he’d seen so many times. “You want it cooked?” you mumbled.

He blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“I’ll… cook for you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “If you want.”

Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, your face shy and your lips still red from feeding.

Something in him twisted, the usual coldness breaking apart. Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers sliding to the back of your neck. He pulled you close and pressed his mouth to yours.

You let out a small sound of surprise, muffled against his lips, but you didn’t pull away. The warmth of his mouth caught you off guard. Your heart skipped wildly as his grip tightened, and he angled your face to deepen the kiss. His tongue traced your lips, tasting the faint metallic flavor that still lingered there. He groaned low in his throat, his breath hot against your mouth, and kissed you harder until you felt his tongue slide deeper, exploring you like he wanted to devour you whole.

A soft moan escaped your throat, and your hands clawed at his back, pulling him down until his chest pressed against yours. The air between you burned as the kiss turned desperate, messy, full of need. You could feel his weight on top of you, and still you wanted more. Your lips moved against his skin, finding the curve of his neck, biting softly until he groaned again and pushed himself closer.

“Sunghoon…” you breathed as his mouth found yours again. The kiss came slower this time but deeper, his tongue sliding against yours while his hands moved down the sides of your body, tracing the shape of your waist before grabbing the edge of your dress. He pulled it up without breaking the kiss, his breath mixing with yours.

You let your eyes fall shut as your legs parted on their own, your body giving in to his touch. The heat building fast under your skin and you could feel his fingers pressing against you through the thin fabric, teasing, dragging slowly until they found the wet spot between your thighs. The touch made your hips jerk, a soft sound spilling from your mouth into his.

Sunghoon deepened the kiss, swallowing every noise you made. You arched your back, grinding into his hand, trying to feel more of him. Each stroke of his fingers sent a shiver up your spine, and every time he pulled back to breathe, he came right back, like he couldn’t stop tasting you. Your breaths tangled, mouths opening and closing against each other.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between your bodies. His weight pressed against you, and you could feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest.

Sunghoon’s mind was a blur. He wanted to stop, to think, but he couldn’t. You ate people, but right now he wanted to eat you too — not with teeth, but with his hands, his mouth, his whole body. The kiss had been the first step of consumption, and God knows how much he craved it.

His fingers lingered on the curve of your thigh, feeling the tremor in your muscles, the heat of your skin. In the back of his mind, he thought about the strange balance between hunger and want, about how thin that line really was.

Sunghoon pulled away just long enough to strip the rest of your clothes from your body, his fingers trembling slightly as if he couldn’t decide whether to be gentle or rough. The air hit your bare skin, and his eyes drank you in with a hunger. His mouth parted, breath coming out heavy as he took in the sight of your breasts, round and flushed from his touch. He swallowed hard, a low groan escaping him.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your collarbone before his teeth found your neck. He bit down—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave the shape of his mouth pressed into you. His tongue followed, tracing the edge of the mark, soothing and claiming at the same time. You shivered beneath him, fingers digging into his shoulders.

When he heard the soft whimper escape your lips, something inside him snapped. His grip tightened, one hand sliding beneath your back to pull you closer, pressing you into him until you could feel every inch of his body.

You clung to him, your nails scraping down his spine as though anchoring yourself, yet the gesture only spurred him on.

You arched your back instinctively, offering yourself to him like a meal placed before the starving. He devoured every inch of you with his mouth—your throat, your shoulders, the soft curve of your breasts—leaving trails of warmth and sting wherever his lips went. Each kiss felt like a bite, each breath between them a growl.

You were open to him, like a wound that refused to close. He tasted you slowly, deliberately, savoring the salt of your skin as though it could feed him.

He took your nipple between his lips, sucking deep until your breath broke into a sharp sound that filled the room. The noise drove him mad; his tongue circled, flicked, and licked at your areola with unrelenting focus, the wet sounds between you are obscene and unashamed. Every gasp that escaped you made his body tighten, and when he groaned against your skin, you could feel it vibrate straight through your chest.

His hand never stopped moving. His fingers slipped lower, sliding along your thigh until he reached the heat between your legs. He pushed the thin fabric aside, and when he plunged two fingers inside you, your whole body arched. The sudden stretch made you gasp, and his name fell from your lips before you could stop it. He left your breasts with a wet pop, his mouth glistening, and then he pulled your panties down the rest of the way, tossing them aside before lowering himself between your legs.

When his tongue met you, it was filthy—slow and wet and relentless. He licked from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit, dragging his tongue through every fold before pressing his mouth flat against you. He sucked hard, drawing the taste of you into his mouth as if he couldn’t get enough. Fuck, he thought, dizzy from it. You taste so fucking good.

You could feel every flick of his tongue, every breath he exhaled against your skin. It sent jolts through your body, from your spine down to your toes, until your legs wrapped around his head and refused to let go. He didn’t fight it; he wanted you tight around him, wanted to drown there. His tongue worked faster, licking, flicking, sucking at every drop that slipped out of you.

Sunghoon was moaning into you, humming when your thighs trembled, slurping every bit he could reach as though feeding from you.

Then his hand moved again. You barely noticed at first, too far gone, until his fingers slid from your thighs up and found your nipple. He pinched hard and your body jerked against his face. The pain melted into pleasure so fast it made your head spin.

"Keep it loud, please." He said, he didn’t stop; his fingers rolled and twisted.

Your hips moved with their own rhythm, sliding against his mouth again and again, using him without restraint. He gripped your thigh tighter, urging you to squeeze, while his other hand kept playing with your nipple. His cock throbbed, ignored but straining, the need pulsing through him, but he didn’t care. He wanted this more—to taste you, to take everything you gave, to keep you open beneath him and devour every part of you that trembled.

You could barely breathe when the pressure started to build deep inside you, your body trembling under his mouth. “S-Something’s c-coming,” you whimper, voice breaking, hips moving on their own as if your body had already decided it couldn’t stop.

Sunghoon’s tongue doesn’t slow; he licks up and down your slit, his mouth open and greedy as he sucks and laps at you, chasing every sound that falls from your throat. The harder you shake, the more desperate he becomes, his tongue dragging through.

You cry out, your voice splintering into a scream as your whole body convulses, every muscle tightening around the heat of his mouth.

He doesn’t stop when you come. He keeps licking, sucking, and eating you out until you’re trembling uncontrollably, his mouth wet with everything you’ve given him. The sound of it is filthy—loud slurps and low moans—and he doesn’t care how obscene it gets. He wants to crawl inside you, lose himself there, mold himself into your heat until he can’t tell where you end and he begins.

He pulls away, breathless and flushed, his face glistening with your slick. Without a word, he strips off his pants, his hands trembling slightly as if the need in him has turned to ache. He leans over you again, his mouth finding yours in a rough, hungry kiss.

You moan into him, still trembling, whispering against his lips, “So good.”

He grinds against you, his cock sliding through your wetness, the friction making you both gasp. You can feel how hard he is, how close he’s holding himself back, and it makes your voice crack when you plead, “So good, want more, want more, Hoonie…”

He groans at the sound of his name, pushes forward slowly, and the first stretch makes both of you cry out.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, fingers pressing into your jaw as his other arm hooks behind your back, pulling you closer until your chest meets his. The kiss deepens again, his tongue slipping into your mouth to taste you the way he tasted your skin.

You try to chase his lips when he breaks the kiss, your mouth open, needy, and when he raises himself just enough to look down at you, the sight almost breaks him. Sunghoon groans low, his body shuddering, and he pushes back in—deeper this time, harder. You meet him halfway, your hips rolling up to take him in.

You can feel the hunger in the way he moves, in the way he breathes your name against your ear.

His love is not soft—it’s desperate, consuming, something that wants to eat and be eaten until there’s nothing left but the sound of flesh and breath.

You became clingier, your body pressed against his every time. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your lips brushing along his neck and jaw, leaving soft kisses that grew, needier. You murmured between them, words barely formed but full of meaning, your breath hot against his ear.

“I love you, Hoonie,” you whispered.

Sunghoon smiled without meaning to, his lips curling before he could stop them. Every time you said it, something inside him warmed and ached at the same time. He wanted to answer you, to say it back and let it fall heavy between you, but the words stayed trapped in his throat. He couldn’t force them out. Instead, he kissed you again, hoping the way his mouth lingered could say what his voice couldn’t.

You didn’t seem to mind. You just held him tighter, swaying your hips gently against him, as if your bodies could speak the rest of what your mouths couldn’t. Your fingers traced the lines of his face, following the sharp edge of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the soft curve of his lips. His skin was pale and warm under your touch, the faint light catching on the small moles scattered across his face.

He was too beautiful. So beautiful it made your stomach turn, made you ache to taste him. You thought about how his teeth flashed when he smiled, how honest they looked, how much truth was hidden behind them. You loved him in a way that felt hungry, the kind of love that wanted to consume rather than simply hold. You could almost taste his emotion when he kissed you back—the sweetness of it mixed with the salt of your own breath.

You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth and whispered again, “I love you.” He just breathed out softly, his hands resting on your hips, holding you close.

You and Sunghoon spent your days drifting from one place to another, his bike carrying you both through quiet roads and long stretches of open space. The wind whipped at your hair as you pressed yourself against his back, your arms locked around his waist. Sometimes you’d tilt your head just enough to see the curve of his cheek, the way his mouth softened when he focused on the road, and you couldn’t help but stare.

When the day began to fade, the two of you often stopped somewhere to watch the sunset. You’d sit behind him on the grass, your head resting on his shoulder as the sky turned gold and then deep red.

Sometimes, when you couldn’t help it, you’d lean closer and whisper something small and soft into his ear—words that melted before they were fully spoken.

Loving him felt like eating slowly, like tasting something rich that lingered on your tongue long after it was gone. You didn’t just want him—you wanted to keep him inside you somehow, to swallow every part of the feeling before it could fade. You loved Sunghoon so much that it frightened you, because every time you thought you had enough, you only ended up craving more. Loving him meant devouring what you wanted most, even when it began to consume you too.

Love, you thought, was cannibalism. It was a kind of hunger that never ended, a sweetness that bit back if you dared to take too much. To love him was to risk being eaten alive by your own desire, to let the sharp edges of it scrape against everything tender inside you. And you accepted that willingly. You wanted him to take from you—the small pieces, the soft parts, every bit of yourself that you’d kept hidden from the world. You wanted to offer it all as tribute, a sacrifice to the kind of affection that didn’t promise safety but felt worth the pain.

He gave you food. You gave him yourself.

You were lying on the thin mattress in the small, dim room Sunghoon had rented, your body stretched lazily across the sheets as the faint hum of the outside world leaked through the walls.

He had gone out earlier to make a trade, saying he’d be back before dark, and you had passed the time staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks that looked like branching rivers. You didn’t think about much; there wasn’t anything worth thinking about when he wasn’t there. You just waited for the sound of his bike, the faint growl that meant he was coming home.

"Huh?" You whisper quietly when you hear a sudden noise.

A noise came from beyond the door and your head tilted slightly. Curiosity was mild and passing, and you pushed yourself up, feet touching the cold floor, and went to the door, pulling it open just enough to see.

There were men standing there. Dressed in black, holding guns that caught the dim light. They looked at you the same way you looked at them—blank, and confused.

“Shit, I think we got the wrong room,” one of them muttered.

You blinked, silent. You tilted your head slightly, studying their faces, the way they shifted on their feet. Your pulse stayed slow, calm. You didn’t ask who they were or why they were here. You just wondered, faintly, when Sunghoon would come back. Maybe he’d bring the snack he liked, or another book to read while you lay beside him.

“We should leave,” one of the men said, voice uneasy.

“Are you crazy? She saw us! She could report us to the cops or something,” another snapped, lifting his gun to aim at you.

You didn’t move. Your eyes stayed fixed nonchalantly on the weapon pointed at your chest. Your thoughts drifted again to Sunghoon, if what he was doing right now.

“Stop it,” a third voice said sharply. “The girl looks like she’s not all there. She’s not reacting. We can just pay her off or—”

“I’m not trusting you with that. We just need to kill Sunghoon, that’s all.”

Kill... Sunghoon?

It was only then that your body moved. There was no scream, no warning—just the sudden, exact motion of your hand snapping forward to grab the nearest gun. Your fingers wrapped around cold metal and before the man could react, you twisted hard, the shot going off. His body jerked back and fell against the wall, blood splattering across your face.

The three remaining men froze, caught between shock and fury. You turned it slowly toward the next one, your eyes steady, your expression still empty.

They moved at once, a rough hand seized your arm and yanked you forward. You gasped from the sudden jolt that rattled through your body. The man’s grip was strong, you twisted in his hold, trying to wrench free. You sank your teeth into his forearm until you tasted blood. His scream tore through the room,m and you kicked your feet against the floor, trying to throw him off balance, grunting through the effort.

“Kill her! Fuck—just kill her already!” the man carrying you shouted, spitting out the words in fear. Another raised his gun, aiming for your head, but you were moving too much. The bullet tore through your shoulder instead, the pain sharp and burning as you stumbled, your body jerking in his grip.

“Grab a knife!” one of them yelled.

You saw the glint of metal a second before it sank toward you. You twisted again, but not enough—the blade slashed across your stomach, you screamed but you kept moving even as your skin split and blood ran down your body, fighting with raw, desperate strength. Your head spun, the edges of the room fading and brightening at once.

Sunghoon. Where was Sunghoon? You wanted him. You wanted him to come in and kill them all. You wanted him to feed you, to make this stop, to make it mean something. You wanted to eat.

The man holding you shoved you against the wall, his arm pressing hard against your throat. Your vision darkened, the air leaving your lungs in a broken rasp as you clawed at him. Your voice came out hoarse, a raw sound that barely resembled a scream—until suddenly, another sound tore through the room.

Gunfire.

The weight pinning you down fell away. The man’s body hit the floor, blood pooling under him. You blinked through the haze, vision too blurry to make sense of anything, but you smiled anyway because you heard his voice—Sunghoon’s voice— he was angry.

You turned your head, dragging yourself up against the wall. Sunghoon was there, his face hard and furious, his shirt streaked with blood that wasn’t his. He was fighting the two remaining men. One swung a knife, but Sunghoon ducked and shoved him back, slamming his fist into the man’s throat before driving his own knife straight into his stomach.

You pressed your hand to your wound and forced yourself upright, staggering on your feet. The room spun around you, your skin slick with blood, but all you could think about was him—his back to you, his shoulders tense. You wanted to reach out.

Suddenly, you saw the last man standing lifted his gun, aiming straight for Sunghoon’s head.

Your heart felt like it cracked open inside your chest. You didn’t think, you just moved. You stepped forward, half-running, half-falling, trying to grab his arm before he could fire. But he was faster. The gun went off.

The sound hit you before the pain did. The impact threw you back, a hot, crushing ache blooming in your chest as you fell.

Sunghoon froze. For a moment, everything stopped—the fight, the shouting, even his breathing. The man who shot you barely had time to blink before Sunghoon lunged, tackling him to the floor and smashing his head into the ground until the gun slipped from his hand. The world around you blurred into noise: another shot, another scream, the dull sound of a body collapsing.

Sunghoon dropped to the floor beside you, crawling on his knees until he could gather you in his arms. His hands shook as they wrapped around your body, trembling from the blood that wouldn’t stop leaking out of you. He pressed you closer, holding you against his chest. His breath came out uneven, his words stuttering through sobs.

“No, no, no,” he whispered as it cracked under the weight of panic. “Don’t—please, don’t do this to me.” His arm stayed locked around your shoulders, his thumb rubbing over your skin in small, desperate circles that smeared your blood over both of you.

You looked up at him, your eyes heavy but still searching for his face. He looked like he was falling apart—his lips trembling, his tears mixing with the red streaks on his cheeks. You could almost taste the sadness coming off him.

“I-I want to eat,” you murmured weakly.

Sunghoon’s head jerked slightly, and he let out a choked sound, a broken laugh that caught halfway through his throat. “T-There’s food here,” he said quickly, as if saying it fast enough would make it real. “I’ll cook for you, okay? I’ll make something. I’ll get you to a hospital, I—”

You shook your head weakly, your fingers twitching against his shirt. “No money for hospital,” you whispered, your voice almost gone, eyelids fluttering before you forced them open again just to see him.

He looked down at you, and your lips curved into a small, faint smile. “Beautiful,” you whispered, and the word came out like a sigh.

Sunghoon’s chest tightened as he watched your eyes, still bright even as they began to dim. He swallowed hard, his own tears were thick and so ugly on his face. “You’re beautiful too,” he said, voice trembling as he tried to steady himself, but his throat closed around the words.

You blinked, your breathing shallow, uneven. “D-Did you eat?” you asked softly, barely forming the words, but he heard you.

He shook his head, his whole body shaking with it. “No. Not yet,” he said, and his voice cracked again. His tears fell freely now, dripping onto your cheek, sliding down to your neck.

“Eat now,” you murmured, your lips barely moving. “Okay? I—” The rest never came out. Your body stilled for a moment, and the sound of silence hit him harder.

“Fuck, no—no!” Sunghoon’s voice broke open as the panic ripped through him. He pressed his forehead against yours, his tears mixing with your blood. “Please, don’t leave me, don’t—please.” His words became jagged, tumbling out in a blur. “I love you, okay? I fucking love you. Are you hungry? I—”

He looked around the room, searching for something that could fix the unfixable. His eyes landed on the knife still lying near the bloodstained floorboards. He reached for it with shaking fingers and clutched it hard, so hard the blade sliced into his palm. The blood welled up quickly, running down his wrist in dark streaks.

“Thirsty?” he said, almost tender, almost insane. “You can drink my blood, it’s fine. You can have it all. It’s warm. It’s yours.”

He lifted his hand toward your mouth, and you, half-conscious, obeyed without thought, your lips parting slightly. His blood touched your tongue, you didn’t even have the strength to swallow, but the gesture made him sob harder, his body shaking over yours.

“I love you,” he cried. “I love you, please stay with me, please.” He pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart, where it beat too fast and too loud. “Feast on my flesh,” he whispered, his voice breaking into a trembling plea. “Drink all my blood. You can eat me if it means you’ll stay alive. Just… please…”

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, not caring that they were cold or that his blood was now smeared between you. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He whisper in your lips as he kiss you.

You smiled faintly,. “L-love y-you too…” The sound barely escaped your throat before it broke off, your lips parting slightly. Your eyes stayed open, still staring at him, but the light was gone. The pupils widened, dark and still, like deep water that no longer reflected anything back.

For a few seconds, Sunghoon didn’t move. He stared at you, waiting for your chest to rise again, waiting for your fingers to twitch or for your lips to move. The silence pressed down heavy on him until the ringing in his ears started.

He shook you gently, then harder, tapping your cheek over and over. “No. No, wake up. Please.” He slapped your face lightly, his voice trembling, but you didn’t respond. You stayed still in his arms, your head lolling to the side, and something inside him started to break apart.

“Fuck!” he yelled. “You can’t be gone. You can’t be fucking gone!” His voice cracked halfway through the scream, breaking into a sob he didn’t recognize. “You can’t do this to me, fuck, please.”

He pressed his forehead against yours again, his body shaking. “I should’ve left you the first time I saw you,” he whispered, his tone hollow, more to himself than to you. “It wouldn’t hurt this fucking much. I should’ve walked away.” But even as he said it, he pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair, his lips brushing your ear. “Why does it hurt like this?” His breath came ragged, uneven. He didn’t like it—the ache, the emptiness. It felt like his heart was trying to crawl out of his chest, trying to escape the body that no longer wanted to hold it.

The memories hit him all at once: your voice calling his name, the way he kill people to feed you, the way you touch him gently, breath him in.

“How dare you leave me,” he whispered hoarsely, his fingers gripping your face. “You ate people, you try to fed me pieces of them, and I hated it. I fucking hated it.” His voice cracked into a sob. “But I loved you. I loved everything you gave me. Every disgusting, beautiful piece.”

He looked down at your neck, the small vein beneath your skin as if refusing to admit what had already happened. His breathing turned sharp, his jaw tightening as a single thought clawed its way to the surface. He didn’t want to lose you—not even now. If love was devouring, then maybe he could keep you inside him forever.

With trembling hands, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to your throat. His teeth sank into your skin, deeper and rougher than before, tearing it open until the taste of iron filled his mouth. He bit down harder, his tears falling faster, mixing with your blood as he swallowed. You didn’t move. You stayed perfectly still, eyes open, your body limp in his arms.

The taste was bitter and sweet all at once, the way you always were. He sobbed against your neck, his whole body shaking as he clung to you. The warmth faded from your skin with every passing second, but he didn’t stop. He wanted to taste you, to keep you with him in the only way he knew how.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered into the wound, his lips smeared with red. “Please, don’t leave me.” His words blurred into the sound of his crying, into the soft hum of his breath against your skin.

He pulled back just enough to look at your face again. You were gone—beautiful, still, almost peaceful—but to him, you were everything. He leaned forward and pressed another kiss to your forehead, his voice shaking as he spoke against your cooling skin.

“I love you, I love you,” he murmured against your skin, the words breaking apart between his teeth as he bit down again and again. Each bite was rougher than the last, his mouth shaking, his breath uneven. He didn’t stop even when blood began to mix with the salt of his tears, his body trembling as he whispered your name.

When morning came, the room was silent except for the faint sound of birds outside and the soft creak of the floor beneath his feet. The sunlight slipped through the broken curtains, washing everything in a dull orange glow. He moved slowly, carefully, his hands still stained with red as he gathered your body. He wrapped you with a tenderness that didn’t match what he’d done, tucking you inside a large old luggage that barely fit your frame.

He closed it gently, locking it, then dragged it across the floor. His breath came heavy as he pulled it outside and strapped it onto the back of his bike.

He drove across town, then another, passing empty roads and quiet stretches of forest, his eyes blank but his grip firm on the handles. The road blurred under him, and every few miles, he’d stop, open the luggage just a bit, and look at you. His fingers would brush over your skin before he leaned down again.

When the hunger returned—because it always did—he would stop somewhere no one could see, unzip the bag, and take what he needed. He ate quietly, almost peacefully, his face calm as if it were nothing more than a meal shared between lovers. Afterward, he’d wipe his mouth, close the luggage again, and get back on the road.

And he kept going—town after town, night after night—feeding on what was left of you, the taste of love still clinging to his tongue. He never looked for anyone else, never spoke to another soul. Just drove, and ate, and whispered your name into the wind.

ACT OF DEVOURING

written by anonymous

There’s a hunger in me that never quiets—not when I sleep, not when I breathe, not even when I say your name. And It all started the day I met you, the day I realized love could sound like an empty stomach growling for something it can never digest.

When I first undressed you, I didn’t just want to touch you. I wanted to know you in a way that skin alone couldn’t offer. I wanted to break you open and see what your heart tasted like—if it was sweet, or bitter, or human at all.

They say to love someone is to be gentle. But I’ve never known gentleness that didn’t hunger in secret. My affection grew like a thorn, the kind that cuts even as it clings. When I kissed you, I could feel the edge of it pressing into me—the ache to consume, to pull you inside until there was no line between us. The mouth was never meant to hold back love; it was made to devour, to draw flesh close enough to become one with it.

I used to think love was a way of saving. But what if it’s a way of eating—to keep what we desire from disappearing? You offered me yourself so freely, and I took you as any starving thing would: slow at first, then desperate, afraid you’d vanish before I could finish.

And even after your voice is gone, you remain in me. I feel you in the weight of my tongue, the rhythm of my heartbeat, the warmth still crawling beneath my skin. I’ve swallowed pieces of you so deep that I no longer know which hunger belongs to me and which was yours.

To love you was to consume you, to cradle you between my teeth, to love is to eat and chewed through grief.

And when the world asks what love is, I will tell them this: it’s the ache that drives the starving to sing while they feast on the ones they can’t let go.

END.