I stirred, my body heavy with the languid satisfaction of last night, every muscle still humming from Taehyung's touch.

My leg was draped over his thigh, his arm curled possessively around my waist, his bare chest warm against my cheek. The sheets were a tangled mess, barely covering us, and the air was thick with his scent-musky, warm, intoxicating, like a spell I never wanted to break.

My skin tingled where it pressed against his, a restless heat stirring deep in my core, a quiet ache that hadn't fully faded. Last night replayed in my mind like a vivid dream-his lips searing my neck, his hands claiming every inch of me, the way he'd moved inside me, making me his in a way that felt like a sacred vow.

My cheeks flushed, but the embarrassment dissolved as I looked up at him. He slept so peacefully, his dark hair falling messily over his eyes, lips slightly parted, his bare muscles relaxed against me. He looked boyish, almost innocent, like a man content and sated, resting after a feast.

The sight made my heart swell, a soft awe settling in my chest. He was so beautiful like this-vulnerable, unguarded, mine. The urge to touch him was overwhelming. My fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath my fingertips.

He stirred, his hold tightening, pulling me closer, and I smiled, marveling at how close we were, how much it felt like I was truly his. And he was mine. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his chin, my fingers gently brushing his hair back from his eyes.

He was really mine.

Careful not to wake him, I shifted, sitting up and pulling the duvet around my bare body. My eyes scanned the dim room, landing on his discarded T-shirt at the edge of the bed. I reached for it, slipping it over my head.

It hung loosely, the fabric brushing my thighs, his scent clinging to it, wrapping me in him even as I walked away. I glanced back at him one last time, his peaceful form tugging at my heart, before padding toward the bathroom.

I barely remembered the moments after coming down from my high last night-only that Taehyung had cleaned us up with a warm, damp cloth because I'd whined, too spent to move and how he almost cried after seeing some blood stains on the towel, the guilt refusing to let him sleep until I pulled him down myself.

Flipping on the bathroom light, I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a tousled mess, my lips swollen, but it was the marks on my skin that stole my breath. Red hickeys bloomed across my jaw, neck, and collarbone, a constellation of his desire painted on me.

I looked like a canvas, claimed and cherished. My fingers traced them, a shy smile tugging at my lips as I bit them to hide my blush from myself. The man who'd once been too shy to hold my gaze transformed last night-from a reserved, nerdy sweetheart to someone who devoured me like I was his favorite dessert.

A soft knock on the half-open door startled me, and I glanced over to see Taehyung peeking through the narrow gap, his hair mussed, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

I chuckled at the adorably hesitant gesture, but when he leaned against the doorframe, his bare torso on full display, my stomach flipped, butterflies roaring to life. I turned back to the mirror, trying to act nonchalant, but my pulse betrayed me, quickening under his gaze.

He stepped closer, his warmth enveloping me as he pressed himself against my back, his chest firm against my shoulders. His hand found my waist, squeezing lightly, and I jumped, a giggle escaping him as the ticklish sensation caught me off guard.

He scoffed, a low, playful sound, before burying his face in my neck. I gasped, my head tilting back instinctively, offering him access despite the love bites already decorating my skin.

"I'm so sleepy" he whispered, his voice a husky murmur that sent heat pooling in my core.

I smirked, tracing a hickey on my collarbone with a teasing finger. "I didn't know you had a thing for painting," I said, my voice light but bold. "You marked me everywhere."

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze in the mirror, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Should I call you a kitten, then?" he asked, turning to show me his back.

My jaw dropped, eyes widening at the faint red scratches crisscrossing his skin-marks I'd left in the heat of last night. My cheeks burned, but a strange pride swelled in my chest. I'd marked him too.

He closed the distance between us, caging me between his body and the cool stone of the sink, his eyes never leaving mine. They were dark, smoldering, filled with a hunger that made my heart race.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice low and deliberate, each word dripping with intent. "Those marks? They're proof you're mine."

My breath caught, a flush spreading across my skin as his words wrapped around me, bold and unapologetic. He leaned in, his lips brushing mine, soft at first, teasing, before he nibbled at my bottom lip, a silent request for more. I smirked, keeping my lips closed, denying his tongue entry just to see how he'd react.

And suddenly, he wasn't sleepy anymore.

His eyes narrowed, a playful challenge flickering in them, and then his hand moved, sliding up my side, over the loose T-shirt. His fingers found my breast, brushing the sensitive peak, and when he pinched my nipple softly, I jolted, a sharp gasp escaping me, my body arching toward him.

He seized the moment, smirking against my lips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past my defenses, exploring with a slow, deliberate hunger. The sensation was electric, his tongue tangling with mine, tasting me like he couldn't get enough.

The pinch had sent a shockwave through me, pleasure mingling with a delicious sting that made my core throb, my body humming with a need I hadn't realized could burn this fiercely so early in the morning. I loved it-the boldness of his touch, the way he knew exactly how to unravel me, the way he made me feel both cherished and consumed.

My hands slid to his shoulders, gripping tightly as I kissed him back, matching his hunger, my lips moving with a newfound confidence. Every touch felt amplified, like my senses were dialed to a fever pitch-his lips soft but demanding, his fingers skilled and deliberate, his scent wrapping around me like a drug.

My heart raced, my body trembling with a mix of want and awe. This was him, my husband, claiming me again, and I was falling deeper, craving every second of it.

He pulled back abruptly, his breaths ragged, and before I could catch my breath, he turned me over, my hands bracing against the sink. We both panted, the air thick with anticipation. His hands found my hips, steadying me as he pressed himself against my back, the hard line of him through his trousers rubbing against me in a slow, deliberate grind.

I whimpered, biting my lip to stifle a moan, but it slipped out anyway, soft and needy. My eyes met his in the mirror-dark, devouring, but laced with an awe that made my heart stutter. And me? I looked utterly undone, a mess.

I was a woman satisfied yet insatiable, craving more with a desperation that should've embarrassed me but didn't. I wanted him to see it-the way his touch unraveled me, the way I loved every second of it. I wanted him to know I wanted this, wanted him, always.

"See that?" he murmured, his voice a low, husky growl in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. His hands roamed my waist, fingers tracing gentle patterns before one slid up to cup my breast again, his thumb brushing my nipple through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

The sensation was electric, and when he gave it a soft pinch, I gasped, my body jolting against his. "That's my wife. Mine."

His words were possessive, a claim that thrilled me, but there was a tenderness in his tone, a depth of love that wrapped around me like a warm embrace, making my chest ache with the weight of it.

He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to my nape, his lips lingering, his tongue flicking against my skin in a way that made my knees weak. His thumb continued its torturous circling, my nipple hardening under his touch, each stroke sending a fresh wave of heat to my core.

I arched back, pressing myself closer, my hips moving instinctively against him, chasing the friction of his hardness. A low groan rumbled in his chest, vibrating against my back, and his free hand slid down to grip my hip, guiding my movements with a gentle but firm control that made my head spin."You're driving me insane" he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, his voice rough with desire.

He nipped at my earlobe, and I moaned, the sound echoing softly in the bathroom. "Look at you," he said, his eyes locking onto mine in the mirror, his gaze intense, almost reverent. "So needy, so perfect. You love this, don't you?"

My body answered for me, pressing back against him, my hands gripping the edge of the sink as I tried to ground myself in the storm of sensations.

His kisses trailed down my neck, wet and hungry, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Each one felt like a brand, a claim, and I wanted more-more of his lips, his hands, his everything. His hand left my breast, sliding down my stomach, fingers dipping beneath the hem of the T-shirt.

My breath caught as he brushed the sensitive skin just above my core, teasing, testing. "Taehyung..." I whimpered, my voice a desperate plea, my hips shifting toward his touch.

He smirked against my neck, his lips curving as he kissed the spot where my pulse raced, his fingers slipping lower, parting my lips with a featherlight touch that made my eyes flutter shut.

"So sensitive..." he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his fingers explored my wetness, slow and deliberate, finding the slick heat that displayed just how much I wanted him.

I gasped, my body arching, my nails digging into the sink as he teased me, his touch maddeningly gentle. "You're already so ready for me" he said, his voice low and rough, his fingers circling my clit with a precision that made my thighs tremble.

I moaned, my head falling back against his shoulder, my body surrendering to the pleasure building inside me. His other hand gripped my hip tighter, holding me in place as he pressed himself closer, the friction of his trousers against my bare skin sending another jolt through me.

"Please..." I breathed, the word slipping out, raw and needy. I didn't even know what I was begging for-just more, always more.

He chuckled, a dark, velvet sound, and kissed my neck again, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to make me shiver. "Patience, love" he whispered, but his fingers didn't stop, moving faster now, slipping inside me with a slow, deliberate thrust that made me cry out.

The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious stretch that had me gasping, my body clenching around him as he set a steady rhythm, each movement pushing me closer to the edge.

"Look at me," he said, his voice a soft command, and I forced my eyes open, meeting his gaze in the mirror. The sight of us-him pressed against me, his hand working me with a skill that left me breathless, my face flushed and desperate-sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

"I want you to see how beautiful you look when you come undone for me" he murmured, his thumb brushing my clit, and I moaned, my body trembling as the pleasure crested, sharp and all-consuming.

His fingers curled just right, his thumb circling with a pressure that made my vision blur, and I felt myself unravel, a white-hot wave crashing over as I cried out his name, my body shuddered against him.

He held me through it, I felt warm liquid flowing down my thighs, his kisses soft against my neck, his hand slowing but not stopping, drawing out every last tremor until I was a panting, boneless mess in his arms.

He turned me back around, his lips finding mine in a slow, deep kiss, his tongue tasting the lingering moans on my lips.

I gazed up at him, my chest heaving, my body still buzzing from the intensity of his touch. My hand lifted, cupping one side of his face, my fingers grazing the faint stubble along his jaw.

"How did you hold back for so long?" I asked, my voice soft but tinged with disbelief.

It was almost shocking to think about a man like him, who craved me so fiercely, who made every inch of me tingle under his hands, had held back for months of our marriage without ever trying to cross that line.

Nine months of careful distance, stolen glances, and unspoken longing, when all this passion had been simmering beneath the surface.

His eyes softened, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips as he leaned into my touch, his forehead resting against mine. "You have no idea how hard it was," he murmured, his voice raw, vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache.

"Every day, Yn... every time you smiled at me, every time you brushed past me in the kitchen, every time you fell asleep next to me-I wanted you. So badly."

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, his fingers pressing into my skin with a gentle urgency, like he needed to feel me to anchor himself.

"But at first, I thought you didn't love me. I thought it was just duty for you. Then, even after I knew... I didn't want to scare you. I didn't want to push you before you were ready. I wanted it to mean something... like this."

His words wrapped around me, warm and heavy, filling the hollow spaces in my heart I hadn't realized were there. Each syllable carried the weight of his patience, his longing, the quiet devotion he'd shown through months of restraint.

My cheeks flushed, not from embarrassment but from the overwhelming love in his confession, the way he'd waited for me to meet him in this moment, to choose him as fully as he'd chosen me.

I swallowed, my throat tight, as I traced my thumb along his cheekbone, marveling at the man before me-my husband, who'd held back his desires to protect my heart.

"Why wouldn't I love you?" I whispered, my voice catching, raw with emotion. "You're my husband, Taehyung, and you're an incredible man. You're too good to me."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver through me. "Good? Maybe," he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. "But I'm not that good. Not when you're looking at me like that."

I laughed softly, the sound easing the intensity of the moment, but my hands stayed on him, one cupping his face, the other sliding to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under my palm. "I mean it," I said, my voice steadier now, though still soft.

"You waited for me, Taehyung. You could've... you could've pushed, but you didn't. You made me feel safe. Loved. And now..." I paused, my cheeks warming as I met his gaze, bold despite the flutter in my stomach. "Now I want you just as much as you want me."

His eyes darkened, the teasing glint giving way to something hotter, hungrier. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice a velvet growl as he leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth, teasing, testing.

"You have no idea what that does to me, hearing you say that." His hands slid up my sides, under the loose T-shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of my waist, then higher, brushing the curve of my breast. The touch was light, deliberate, and it sent a spark through me.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Yn" he said, his voice rough but laced with adoration. He lifted me off the sink, setting me on my feet but keeping me close, his hands never leaving my body as he backed me toward the bedroom. "But if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me."

I laughed, the sound breathy and giddy, my heart racing as I let him lead me, my fingers clutching his shoulders. The promise in his eyes, the heat of his touch-it was everything I'd ever wanted, everything he'd held back for so long.

And now, with nothing between us but love and desire, I was ready to fall into him, to let show him just how much I have been waiting for this, for us.

_______________________

That afternoon, after an intense session, Taehyung was downstairs cooking lunch while I was upstairs, freshly showered. A robe clung to my damp skin, and a towel was twisted over my wet hair.

My phone buzzed on the vanity, pulling me from my thoughts. I padded over, glancing at the caller ID, and a smile tugged at my lips when I saw Mom.

Tossing the towel from my head onto the bed, I sank into the chair at the vanity, swiping to answer and putting the call on speaker as I ran my fingers through my damp hair, untangling the strands. "Hey, Mum," I greeted, my voice light, already anticipating her familiar warmth.

"Yn!" she huffed, her tone a mix of exasperation and relief that made me grin. "Where are you these days?!

I chuckled, reaching for a bottle of toner and dabbing it onto my face with a cotton pad, the cool liquid soothing against my skin. "I'm right here, Mum, same as always."

"Are you laughing now, huh?" she sighed, the sound so dramatic I could picture her shaking her head. "You went on a trip and didn't even tell me! Not a single call, not a text!"

"Mum, fyi, I'm a married woman now" I teased, leaning closer to the mirror to check my skin, a playful lilt in my voice.

"Oh, a married woman, are you?" she snapped, but I could hear the affection beneath her mock indignation. "You're still my baby, Yn. Do you even remember the last time you saw me? Or talked to me properly? Don't you miss me, hmm?"

Her words hit a soft spot, and I paused, picking up the phone and pressing it to my ear, the speaker off now as I cradled it closer. "Mum, I've just been busy, that's all," I said, my voice softening. "But that doesn't mean I don't miss you or Dad. I do."

"Then come stay with us for a few days," she pressed, her tone shifting to that insistent, hopeful pitch I knew so well.

I laughed, leaning back in the chair, my fingers toying with the tie of my robe. "Mum, I was just there a few months ago!"

"Eight months ago, Yn!" she corrected, her voice rising with indignation. "That's not 'a few'!"

I blinked, realizing she was right. "Oh... yeah, okay," I mused, a smile tugging at my lips as I thought back to that visit.

"So, are you coming?" she asked, her excitement palpable, like she was already planning the meals she'd cook.

"Um... nah," I said, chuckling awkwardly as I scrambled for an excuse. "Mum, I can't right now."

The truth was, I didn't want to leave Taehyung-not now, not when every moment with him felt like a new chapter unfolding, each touch and glance pulling us closer. I wasn't ready to trade that for anything, not even a visit home.

She sighed, long and exaggerated, but I knew her well enough to sense it was more disappointment than anger. "Why not? Is that husband of yours keeping you that busy?" Her tone shifted, teasing now, and I could almost see the smirk on her face.

"Mum!" I whined, my cheeks heating as I set the phone down, switching it back to speaker so I could rub my temples, mortified.

"Oh, don't 'Mum' me," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "It's a good thing, you know. I'm glad you two are... active. His mom was worried, you know, that you and Taehyung weren't being productive with each other."

My jaw dropped, and I snapped upright, staring at the phone like it had betrayed me. "Mum, what?!" I groaned, my voice rising in embarrassment. "Can we please not talk about this? I'd rather discuss fashion or... literally anything else!"

She huffed, undeterred. "Oh, hush! I regret not talking to you about this stuff sooner. Rosy and Jisoo told me you two did nothing on your honeymoon! I could've been a grandmother by now!"

My mouth fell open, a mix of shock and indignation bubbling up. "Mum, please!" I whined, burying my face in my hands, my cheeks burning. "And why are you friends with my friends?!"

"Whatever," she said, brushing me off with that classic mom nonchalance. "Anyway, I sent you something. It should be delivered today."

I frowned, picking up a comb to run through my hair, curious despite myself. "What?"

"There was some issue with your name and address, so I sent it under Taehyung's name," she said, her voice suspiciously casual. "Just check it, and... use it correctly."

"What did you send, Mum?" I asked, my tone wary as I set the comb down, a prickle of unease creeping up my spine.

"A lacy pink nighty" she whispered, like it was a delicious secret.

My eyes widened, my heart lurching. "You sent what in his name?!" I nearly shrieked, my voice cracking with panic.

"A nighty, baby" she said, calm as ever, like she hadn't just dropped a bomb on me.

Wait-didn't the doorbell ring just two minutes ago??

No, it did not!

Or it did, but that couldn't be for the package.

No, no, no. Taehyung was down there, probably already opening the package. My eyes darted to the bedroom door, wide with horror as I imagined him opening that package addressed to him, only to find... a lacy pink nighty.

"Mum, are you insane?" I hissed, my voice a frantic whisper. "I'll call you later!"

"Idiot," she muttered, her voice fond despite the teasing.

I ended the call, my heart racing as I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping over the hem of my robe in my haste. I bolted out of the bedroom, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood as I rushed down the stairs, panic propelling me forward.

"Taehyung!" I called, my voice a mix of desperation and dread, praying I could intercept him before he opened that package and saw what my mother had done. "Taehyung!" I called again, my voice high and frantic, laced with a desperation I couldn't mask.

The image of him opening that package-a lacy pink nighty, addressed to him because of my mother's ridiculous mix-up, sent a wave of mortification crashing over me.

I could already picture his confusion, or worse, that teasing smirk he'd wear when he realized what it was. I had to stop him before he saw it.

I skidded into the living room, my breath ragged, only to freeze in my tracks. Taehyung stood by the entryway table, a small cardboard box already open in his hands, the delivery packaging torn and discarded beside him.

In his fingers, held up like some delicate trophy, was the nighty-a flimsy, scandalously sheer pink thing, all lace and barely-there fabric, glinting faintly in the afternoon light.

His head was tilted slightly, one eyebrow raised, and the corner of his mouth twitched with the beginnings of a grin that made my stomach drop.

He turned, his eyes locking onto my flustered state, amusement dancing in them as he took slow, deliberate steps toward me, the nighty dangling from his fingers like a weapon.

"Taehyung, wait, it's not-it's not mine!" I stammered from the stairs, my voice cracking as I tried to salvage the situation. His nod was slow, deliberate, but the glint in his eyes held no trace of understanding; only pure, unadulterated mischief.

"Not yours?" he asked, his lips curving into a smirk as he closed the distance, his steps unhurried, predatory. "Okay..."

"I mean, it is, but I didn't order it-" My words spilled out in a frantic, jumbled mess, tripping over themselves as I tried to explain the inexplicable.

I reached for the nighty, but he lifted it just out of my grasp with a flick of his wrist, his grin widening into something so playfully wicked my knees wobbled.

"Oh, you didn't?" he teased, his voice a low, husky drawl that sent a shiver down my spine. He dangled the nighty between his fingers, letting the lace sway tantalizingly, his gaze flicking from it to me with a glint that promised chaos.

"So, you're saying this... lacy pink thing just magically showed up, addressed to me? That's quite the story, Mrs. Kim."

I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut, wishing I could melt into the floor. "It's my mum!" I blurted, my voice muffled behind my hands. "She sent it, okay? There was some issue with the address, and she thought-God, I don't even know what she was thinking! She sent it in your name!"

Taehyung stepped closer, the nighty still in one hand, I moved back but his other arm snaking around my waist to pull me flush against him. "Your mum, huh?" he murmured, his lips twitching as he fought back a laugh.

"So, let me get this straight. Your mum sent this sexy little nighty for you to wear? That's... bold." He held it up again, inspecting it with exaggerated scrutiny, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Gotta say, it's not a bad choice. Pink's definitely your color."

"Taehyung!" I whined, swatting his chest, my face so hot I was sure it could power a small city. "Stop it! It's so embarrassing!" I lunged for the nighty again, but he was too quick, lifting it higher and stepping back, his smirk now a full-blown grin that made my heart race for all the wrong reasons.

"Embarrassing?" he teased, tilting his head as his gaze raked over me, lingering on the robe that clung to my still-damp skin, hinting at the curves beneath. "I don't know, Mrs. Kim. I'm thinking it's less embarrassing and more... inspiring."

He lowered his voice, leaning in until his lips brushed dangerously close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "You in this? I'd have to send your mum a thank-you note."

My stomach flipped, a chaotic mix of mortification and desire swirling in my chest. "You're awful!" I muttered, but my voice faltered, my body betraying me as I leaned into him, my hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart.

The memory of our earlier session fire, flashed through my mind, and suddenly, the idea of that nighty didn't seem quite as humiliating. But I shoved that thought down, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

"Awful?" he echoed, his tone mock-offended as he draped the nighty over my shoulder, letting the lace graze my skin, sending a shiver through me.

"I'm just saying, if you wanted to surprise me, you didn't need to get your mum involved." He chuckled, the sound low and warm, vibrating against me as his hands settled on my hips, pulling me closer until no space remained between us. "But now that it's here... you gonna model it for me later?"

My jaw dropped, a gasp escaping as I stared at him, incredulous. "How can you even imagine me in that? You're such a brat!" I swatted his chest again, harder this time, but the laughter in my voice betrayed me.

He grinned, unrepentant, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, a guy can have fantasies, okay?" he defended, his eyes twinkling with that boyish charm that always disarmed me. "But seriously, Yn, you don't need this to drive me crazy. You're doing that just fine in this robe." he teased again.

I rolled my eyes, blush rushing to my cheeks as I looked down to avoid his gaze. He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes, warm and intense. "Though I won't lie... I'm dying to see you in it."

I stepped back, snatching the nighty from his hand before he could torment me further, clutching it to my chest like a shield. "Go finish lunch, you menace!" I ordered, pointing toward the kitchen, trying to regain some semblance of control.

He laughed, a bright, boyish sound that filled the room, and leaned in to steal a quick kiss.

"Fine, but don't think this is over," he said, winking as he sauntered back toward the kitchen, throwing a final, cheeky glance over his shoulder. "I'm expecting a fashion show tonight, Mrs. Kim."

I shook my head, my heart racing, a heady mix of embarrassment and giddy excitement bubbling inside me as I watched him go. The nighty felt impossibly light in my hands, but the weight of his gaze, his teasing, his love-it was everything.

I couldn't believe he was already picturing me in it, this man who kissed me so gently, loved me so fiercely, yet had the audacity to be this shameless. How was he both so sweet and so infuriatingly naughty?

As I climbed back upstairs, a small, secret smile curved my lips. Maybe, just maybe, I'd surprise him tonight-give him a taste of his own medicine and see how he handled it.

_______________________

The evening air carried the lingering warmth of dinner, but it was Taehyung's relentless teasing that had my nerves buzzing as I stood in our bedroom, facing the full-length mirror.

The neon pink nighty clung to my body, its thin silk caressing my skin like a whisper, accentuating every curve with a boldness that made my breath catch. It barely skimmed my thighs, the hem teasingly high, and the plunging neckline left my cleavage daringly exposed, hinting at the soft swell of my breasts.

Even my slight belly fat, usually a quiet insecurity, looked sensual under the fabric, the silk smoothing over it like an embrace. The bedroom lights cast a sultry glow, making the pink pop against my skin, transforming me into someone who felt both vulnerable and powerful.

I bit my bottom lip, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and shyness as I ran my hands over my hips, feeling the silk slide under my palms. I tugged the tie from my hair, letting the strands cascade over my shoulders in soft waves, framing my face.

A quick spritz of cologne-floral with a hint of musk-completed the vibe, its scent mingling with the nervous excitement curling in my stomach. I stole one last glance in the mirror, my heart racing as I exhaled a shaky breath, trying to tame the wild thump in my chest.

My mind drifted to Taehyung, downstairs in the living room, engrossed in some documents he'd said he needed to review before bed. I could already picture his reaction-his breath catching, his glasses slipping down his nose, those dark eyes widening in shock when he saw me in this. The thought sent a ticklish thrill through me, my stomach fluttering with anticipation.

Slipping on the matching outer robe-a sheer, flowing layer that did little to conceal the nighty beneath-I tied it loosely, leaving just enough to tease. I closed the bedroom door with a soft click and padded toward the living room.

"Taehyung!" I called, striking a pose in the doorway, my eyes squeezed shut to hold onto my courage, to keep from crumbling under the weight of his inevitable gaze.

I stood tall, one hand on my hip, the other gripping the doorframe, willing myself to stay bold. A sharp crash shattered the silence-glass hitting the floor-and my eyes snapped open, pride surging through me. Got him.

But then my gaze landed on the scene before me, and my heart stopped. Taehyung stood frozen, an empty tray in his hands, his jaw slack, eyes wide with utter shock.

And there, on the couch, were his parents-his mother's hand suspended mid-air, chips spilling from her fingers onto the floor, his father choking on a mouthful of snacks, his face red as he averted his gaze to the ceiling.

"Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed, pure horror propelling me as I spun on my heel and bolted back to the bedroom, my robe fluttering behind me like a flag of defeat. I didn't stop until I reached the room, slamming the door shut and diving onto the bed, yanking the duvet over my head.

I buried my face in the pillow, muffling a silent scream, my body curled into a ball of humiliation. My hands clutched at the nighty beneath the blanket, as if I could erase the fact that I'd just paraded myself in front of my in-laws in something that left nothing to the imagination.

Oh God, oh my God, what did I do? Had I just given my husband's parents a front-row seat to a show meant for Taehyung? My heart pounded so fiercely I thought it might burst, my cheeks burning as hot tears of embarrassment pricked my eyes.

What would they think of me now? That I was some shameless wife flaunting herself? Or worse? What was worse about this? That it was the worse itself!

I wanted to dissolve into the air, to vanish and never face them again. The mortification was a living thing, clawing at my chest, making me wish I could rewind time and burn that nighty before it ever arrived.

After what felt like an eternity, the bedroom door clicked open, and I knew Taehyung had come up after seeing his parents off. I didn't move, didn't dare look at him, my face still buried in the pillow. The mattress dipped softly as he sat on the edge near my legs, his presence a quiet weight.

"Love?" he called, his voice gentle, tugging lightly at the blanket.

"Don't-" I mumbled, my voice muffled, thick with shame. "I'm not coming out. Ever."

He tugged at the blanket again, his tone soft but coaxing. "It's okay, Yn. They didn't say anything, I swear."

I yanked the blanket off, sitting up in a huff, my hair a wild mess around my face. "No, it's not okay!" I snapped, my voice trembling with residual panic. "I just gave your parents a show, Taehyung! Oh my God, why didn't you tell me they were here?"

He raised his hands, his expression apologetic but tinged with a faint smile. "I was about to call you, I swear," he said softly. "They showed up unannounced. I didn't know they were coming until they were already at the door."

I groaned, burying my face in the pillow again, the fabric cool against my burning cheeks. "Just kill me now, please," I muttered. "I can't live after this. I can never face them again."

He scoffed, a warm, affectionate sound, and reached for me, gently pulling me toward him. He maneuvered me until I was sitting up, my back pressed against his chest, his chin resting on my shoulder.

His arms wrapped around me, firm and comforting, grounding me despite my spiraling embarrassment. "You look so good in this" he whispered in my ear, his voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down my spine.

I sulked, my shoulders slumping. "I wanted to look good for you, not your parents, Taehyung!" I whined, my voice small. "I'll never be able to look them in the eye again."

He tightened his hold, his hands splaying across my torso, warm through the thin silk. "They won't say anything, I promise" he murmured, his lips brushing my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "It's not a big deal. They know you wore this for their son, not them."

I sighed, the weight of my humiliation still heavy but softened by his touch, his voice.

"But you did shock me," he added, and I could feel the smirk in his tone, that teasing edge that always made my heart skip. "Maybe next time, give me a heads-up before you come out looking like a bombshell."

"Taehyung!" I started, ready to protest, but he cut me off, turning me in his arms so I faced him.

"Enough of that," he said, his voice firm but warm, his eyes roaming over me, taking in the nighty from head to toe. "Let me admire my wife in the look she worked so hard for."

His gaze was unapologetic, lingering on the way the silk hugged my curves, the exposed skin of my thighs, the hint of cleavage. I suddenly felt hyper-aware of myself, my hands tugging at the hem of the nighty to cover my thighs, my cheeks flushing under his scrutiny.

He noticed, his fingers brushing my waist, rubbing soft, soothing circles. "You're shy now?" he teased, his voice a low rumble, his lips curving into a playful smile. "You weren't shy when you decided to wear it, though."

"Stop it" I mumbled, a reluctant chuckle escaping despite my embarrassment, my hands covering my face.

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and gently pulled me down with him, guiding me to lie across his chest. He tucked me into the crook of his arm, his other hand wrapping around my waist as I nuzzled into his neck, my arms circling his torso, clinging to his warmth.

He reached over to flick off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a soft, intimate darkness, and pressed a tender kiss to my forehead.

"Forget about all that," he murmured, his fingers threading through my hair, stroking gently, his other hand caressing my side, tracing the silk as if memorizing the feel of me in it. "You look too sexy to care about anything else."

I sighed, melting into him, the embarrassment fading under the weight of his love, his quiet adoration. But a question nagged at me, bold and unfiltered, spurred by the intimacy of the moment.

"But, Taehyung..." I started, my voice hesitant, unsure how he'd take what I was about to say. I bit my lip, my heart thudding loudly in my ears. "Aren't you going to do anything? I mean..." I paused, my cheeks warming as I gathered my courage. "I'm in this nighty anyway. Are you... perhaps controlling yourself?"

He stilled for a moment, then chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against my skin. "Controlling?" he repeated, amusement dancing in his tone as he pulled me tighter, his chest warm against my back.

"What am I, some monster trying to stay human?" His lips brushed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "You don't need a nighty to make me weak, love. You could be in a sundress, a baggy sweater, anything and I'd still be on my knees for you."

I let out a soft laugh, marveling at his words, my heart fluttering as I pressed a tender kiss to his collarbone, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin. His teasing ignited a playful spark in me.

"But if you did want to do something..." he murmured, his voice dipping into a husky drawl, his fingers skimming the curve of my waist, lingering where the silk hugged my hips. "I'm not sure this nighty would survive the night."

I tilted my head, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear, his voice a wicked whisper.

"I'd rip it right off you" he said, the promise in his words sending a jolt of heat through my core.

I gasped, swatting his chest with a laugh, my cheeks burning but my heart racing with delight. "No way!" I protested, shifting to face away from him, the nighty sliding against my skin. "This thing's too pretty to ruin."

"Pretty, huh?" he teased, propping himself on his elbow, his voice dripping with mock offense. "So, you love it more than me?"

"Obviously," I shot back, grinning into the pillow, knowing full well I was poking the bear.

"Oh, yeah?" he challenged, his brows raised, a wicked glint in his eyes. He leaned down, his lips brushing the exposed curve of my breast, just above the nighty's neckline.

I gasped, the sensation sharp and electric, as he buried his face in my neck, nuzzling against my skin. "Can't believe I was outloved by my wife for a piece of silk" he mumbled, his tone dramatic but laced with that infuriating charm.

I chuckled, my fingers sliding into his hair, massaging gently as he hummed, the sound soft and content, like he was drifting toward sleep. But then he spoke again, his voice low and mischievous.

"By the way, Yn..." I hummed in response, unsuspecting. "Do you remember the time you thought condoms were finger gloves?"

My breath caught, my body tensing as my eyes flew open. "Stop!" I squeaked, my hands freezing in his hair, my face instantly flaming. The memory-a mortifying moment from our honeymoon, came rushing back, and I wanted to crawl under the bed.

He lifted his head, propping himself on his elbow, his eyes gleaming with mischief as a smirk spread across his face. "Oh, so you're already embarrassed about it?" he teased, his voice dripping with delight. "That was priceless"

"Taehyung, enough!" I hissed, pointing a finger at him, trying to muster some authority, but my burning cheeks betrayed me.

"Look at you, all red," he said, grinning like a cat who'd caught a canary. "So cute when you're flustered."

"Shut up, or else-" I warned, my voice faltering as I tried to sound stern.

"Or else what?" he challenged, his brows shooting up, his smirk widening. Before I could respond, his hand moved, swift and playful, delivering a sharp smack to my ass.

The sound echoed in the quiet room, and I gasped, the sudden sting sending a weirdly hot jolt through me, my body reacting before my mind could catch up.

"Or else..." I stammered, my eyes fluttering shut as he caressed the spot he'd just struck, soothing the burn with a gentle touch. My back arched slightly, a reflex I couldn't control, and I hated how much I liked it.

"Liked that, didn't you?" he murmured, his voice a teasing purr, his hand lingering, stroking with a tenderness that made my skin hum. "Didn't peg you for the type, love."

"Oh, so you're capable of cursing too, my love?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief, utterly unbothered by my attempt at defiance.

I rolled my eyes, I was innocent; not a saint.

"Such a rude deed for such pretty eyes," he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "What a brat, Kim Yn."

"Well, Fuck you" I muttered under my breath, barely audible, but his sharp eyes caught the movement of my lips.

"Well, fuck me" he drawled, his teeth grazing my jaw, the sensation sending a shiver down my spine. "Didn't know you had such a dirty mouth, love."

"Oh my God, Taehyung, you're insufferable!" I squealed, squirming under his teasing, my voice a mix of exasperation and reluctant laughter.

"And you're a brat who likes getting spanked by her husband," he shot back, his grin unapologetic, his eyes dancing with that infuriating mix of amusement and desire.

I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to save the last scraps of my sanity, my face burning as I buried it in my hands. "Had I known you were this filthy-" I started, my voice muffled.

"Hmm? You'd have proposed sooner because you like getting spanked?" he interrupted, his tone so casual it was maddening.

"Stop!" I cried, melting into a puddle of shame and laughter, my body shaking as I tried to hide from him. This man was relentless, saying the most outrageous things with a straight face like it was nothing.

He gently pried my hands from my face, his smirk still firmly in place, his eyes glinting with that knowing look. "You know, I read one of your books," he said, his voice dropping conspiratorially.

"No, you did not," I snapped, my eyes widening in horror, my heart lurching at the thought of him flipping through the steamy novels I kept hidden in my drawer.

"Oh, yes, I did," he said, nodding with a mock-serious expression, his smirk betraying him. "So, love, what kind of books are you reading, huh? I thought you were educating yourself."

"That is literature!" I defended, my voice rising in a desperate attempt to justify myself, though I knew I was digging my own grave.

"That's just porn on paper" he said calmly, his smirk widening as he watched me squirm.

"No!" I choked, my voice cracking. "That's not-okay, that's not it!"

"It is," he insisted, nodding sagely, as if he were delivering a scholarly lecture.

"What gets me is how you managed to look me in the eye after reading all that filthy stuff. Such a brat."

"Taehyung, stop!" I whined, wriggling in his grasp, my face so hot I was sure it could light the room.

"Is that what you imagined me doing to you?" he whispered, his lips brushing my ear, his voice a sultry tease that sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

"I'm going to get revenge on you," I declared, pointing a shaky finger at him. "And don't touch my books!"

"Yeah, bite my cock" he mumbled against my ear, the words so outrageous I nearly choked.

"Stop!" I gasped, a shocked laugh bursting from my throat, my body trembling with a mix of horror and amusement. "That's diabolical, Kim Taehyung!"

"So, Mrs. Kim had that in her collection while I was suffering alone with nothing but my imagination, huh?" he said, as if my protests were mere background noise, his smirk unshaken.

"Oh my God," I groaned, turning away, my face buried in the pillow as I laughed and cried at the same time, my body shaking with the absurdity of it all. This man-this infuriating, filthy-mouthed, impossibly loving man-was going to be the death of me.

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