The morning light crept through the curtains, soft and golden, bathing the room in a gentle glow. I stirred, my fingers tightening around what I thought was Mr. Teddy. But this... this wasn't right. It was too warm, too solid, too real. My breath hitched as I realized who it was-Taehyung.

His arm was slung across my torso, his face buried in the crook of my neck, his steady breaths tickling my skin. My heart jolted, a frantic little kick against my ribs, and I froze, terrified that even the slightest movement would shatter his fragile sleep.

This was new. So impossibly new. We'd never been this close before, not like this, not with his body draped over mine, his warmth seeping into me like a quiet promise.

He has always been so careful, so polite, even in sleep-him on his side, me on mine, an invisible line between us. But now? Now he was curled into me, his lips so close to my neck I could feel the faint brush of them with every breath. My husband, Kim Taehyung, who always stayed 5cm away from me; now nestled against my body like he was Mr. Teddy.

My mind spiraled back to last night. The kiss. My first kiss. His lips on mine, soft but hungry, pulling me into him like he was afraid I'd slip away.

And then later, on the sofa, when he pinned me down, his tongue slipping past my lips, unraveling every coherent thought in my head. I lost myself in him, in the heat, the taste, the way he'd kissed me like I was his favourite.

I don't even remember how we made it back to the bedroom, how we ended up tangled like this, but the memory of his mouth on mine burned through me, leaving my cheeks flushed and my heart racing. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if I could hide from the way my body hummed at the thought.

Last night had been exhausting-emotionally, mentally, everything. In the kitchen, when he turned away, I thought it was over, that I broken something irreparable. My heart had cracked, raw and aching, until he'd scooped me up like I was a broken petal; and placed me back together with his touch, his words, his love.

I confessed that I had never kissed anyone before, that I didn't know how to navigate this overwhelming, beautiful thing called love.

And his eyes-God, his eyes. So gentle, so present, like he'd walk through fire if it meant keeping me safe. They healed parts of me I didn't know were broken, stitched up wounds I hadn't realized I carried.

I wanted to relive that kiss, to feel it for the first time again. The fear, the thrill, the way it had consumed me. I was terrified, overwhelmed, but all I knew was that I wanted more. More of his lips, his hands, his warmth. Only him. Always him.

The thought sent a shiver through me, and I bit my lip to keep from making a sound as his arm tightened, pulling me closer in his sleep. My heart stuttered, and a tiny, mortified squeak nearly escaped. I clamped my mouth shut, praying he hadn't heard.

But then he stirred, his breath hitching, his body going still as if he was waking up to the same realization I had-how impossibly close we were.

My pulse thundered, and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, pretending to be asleep, too shy, too nervous to face him. What would I even say? How could I look into those eyes after last night, after I'd bared my soul and he'd kissed me like I was his.

"Yn," he murmured, his voice low, husky, still rough with sleep. It sent a jolt down my spine, liquid heat pooling in my stomach. Why did his voice have to do that to me? Unravel me with just my name?

I stayed silent, hoping he would think I was still asleep, but then his fingers brushed my hair, tucking a stray strand behind my ear with a tenderness that made my oxygen supply dysfunction.

My eyes fluttered open before I could stop them, and there he was, gazing at me. His eyes were soft but intense, like he could see every tangled thought in my head, every flutter of my heart.

His hair was a mess, falling into his eyes, and I had to fight the urge to reach up and brush it away. I had the thought of kissing him too, by the way. God, I wanted to kiss him again, right there, but I shoved the thought down...for now.

"Morning," he said, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips. His face was so close, his breath fanning over my lips, and it took everything in me not to scream or bolt or worse-lean in and close the distance.

"Morning..." I mumbled, my voice barely a whisper, my face so hot I was sure he could feel it. He didn't move, didn't pull away, just kept looking at me like I was something new and rare to look at. His thumb grazed my arm, a lazy, absentminded touch that sent sparks across my skin, and I nearly fainted.

"Sleep okay?" he asked, his voice warm, his eyes searching mine. I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. My mind was still trapped in last night.

I must've looked like a startled fawn because his smile grew, and a soft, rumbling chuckle escaped him, making my stomach flip in the most unfair way.

"Want breakfast?" he asked, his tone light, like he was trying to ease me out of my flustered state, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me and was mercifully giving me an out.

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm... I'm actually hungry" I stammered, then mentally kicked myself for sounding so awkward. Why couldn't I just be normal?

He nodded, his eyes glinting with something I couldn't quite read. "Stay in bed," he said, his voice firm but gentle, like a quiet command I didn't dare disobey. Okay, sir, I thought, my heart doing a ridiculous little somersault.

Then he leaned down, planting a tender, featherlight kiss to my collarbone-so casual, so natural, like it was something he did every morning. My entire body locked up, a high-pitched squeak nearly escaping before I bit my finger hard, trapping it in my throat.

Heat surged through me, wildfire racing from my collarbone to every nerve in my body, and I pressed my lips together to keep from making another sound.

The door clicked shut behind him, and I collapsed back against the pillows, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. My fingers grazed the spot where his lips had been, the skin still tingling, still his.

That kiss wasn't like last night's desperate, soul-baring collision. This was soft, intimate, like he'd claimed a piece of me without even trying. And God help me, I wanted more.

I wanted his lips on my neck, my shoulders, my lips again-everywhere. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I groaned into the pillow, mortified by my own mind.

What was wrong with me? One kiss-one real, earth-shattering kiss and now I was unraveling, craving things I didn't even know how to name.

My skin prickled with goosebumps as I imagined his hands on me, his lips trailing lower, like in those novels I'd read in secret, the ones that made my cheeks burn and my heart race.

But this wasn't a book. This was Taehyung, my husband, and I was... what? Greedy? Sinful? For wanting him like this, for aching for more than his gentle touches and soft kisses?

I pressed my hands to my face, trying to calm the storm in my head, but all I could see was him-his mussed hair, his warm eyes, the way he had smiled at me. And now, what? Would we kiss every day?

The thought made my heart bloom, petals unfurling in my chest. His lips on mine, every morning, every night, no hesitation, no awkwardness-just us, loving each other the way we were meant to.

We confessed and bared our hearts, and now we were here, not just friends, not just an arranged marriage, but lovers. The word felt too big, too wild, but it fit. It was what I wanted, what we both wanted. And it happened.

It happened so fast, like a dream I was afraid to wake from. For months, I thought my love was one-sided, each day stretched into an eternity of quiet longing, every small distance between us a chasm I couldn't cross.

But this-this was effortless, natural, like we'd been waiting to fall into each other all along. We were. It overwhelmed me, made my head spin, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I wanted to love him like this forever, to pour every ounce of myself into him, no hesitation, no second thoughts. Because that's how much he filled me-too much, too heavy, but so perfectly right.

When he returned, balancing a tray of golden pancakes, vibrant sliced fruit, and two steaming mugs of coffee, I managed to sit up, my face still burning like I'd been caught in a spotlight.

He set a small table beside my side of the bed, and I swung my legs over the edge, sitting tentatively, my toes brushing the cool floor.

I avoided his eyes at all costs, terrified that one glance would melt me completely, turning me into a stuttering, blushing mess. His presence alone was enough to make my heart race, and I wasn't sure I could handle the intensity of his gaze right now.

I saw the dry fruits kept on my plate just like I prefer my usual breakfast, which Sarah set everytime but she was on leave, so he definitely kept that detail in mind. He sat over the bed beside me, his thigh brushing mine, and my skin tingled at the contact, betraying me again.

I busied myself with the coffee, avoiding his eyes, but I could feel his gaze, warm and steady, like he was studying every flicker of my expression."Looks good" I mumbled, gesturing to the pancakes, my voice still shaky from the chaos in my head.

He chuckled, cutting a piece and holding it out to me on a fork. "Try it. If it's bad, you're allowed to fire me."

I laughed, the sound loosening the knot in my chest, and took the bite. It was... perfect. Fluffy, sweet, with a faint hint of vanilla that caught me off guard.

I glanced at him, surprised, and he raised an eyebrow, a smug little smile playing on his lips as he popped a piece into his own mouth. "Not bad, huh?" he said, his voice laced with playful pride.

I nodded, swallowing, my voice steadier now as I let myself sink into the moment. This was us-eating breakfast in bed, sharing quiet smiles, like we were finally learning how to be husband and wife, not just two people bound by a vow. And it felt like home.

We ate in silence for a moment, the kind that felt soft and warm, like the morning light spilling around us. Then he spoke, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Sarah won't be back for a week, okay? I asked her to take some time off."

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely hiding the sudden spike of nerves. My mind raced-Sarah's absence meant it would just be us, alone, in this house, with no buffer, no distractions.

He leaned back slightly, his eyes steady on mine. "I took a few days off work too," he said, his voice calm but deliberate.

"I was thinking... maybe you could take a break as well? We just got back from the company getaway, and I want us to spend some time together. At home. Just relaxing. What do you think?"

My breath caught, and I stared at him, my mind racing. Time off? For what? To be like this-close, touching, kissing, talking like we were really married? The thought sent a thrill through me, laced with a familiar thread of fear.

Work would've been my escape, a way to catch my breath and calm the high of this new, intoxicating side of Taehyung-the one who kissed my collarbone like it was nothing. And staying at home with him 24/7 felt like signing up for my own death, a deliciously dangerous invitation I wasn't sure I could survive.

And yet... I wanted it. I wanted to step into that wild, uncharted territory, to be that cat who got caught by her curiosity.

"I... I could do that," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper, trying to sound nonchalant despite the storm in my chest. "I have some leave saved up."

His face lit up, a quiet, genuine smile spreading across his lips as he nodded. "Okay" he said simply, picking up his coffee and taking a sip, as if he was already savoring the days we'd spend together, just the two of us.

His calmness only made my heart race faster, my mind spinning with the possibilities-days filled with him, with us, with no one else to interrupt this fragile, beautiful thing we were building.

_______________________

By noon, I was folding the last of our clothes, neatly arranging them in the closet-mine on one side, Taehyung's on the other. Sarah had tidied the house while we were away, so there wasn't much left to do after the company getaway, but I needed something to keep my hands busy, my mind occupied.

I was in our bedroom, my thoughts drifting to the novel I planned to curl up with after lunch, its pages promising a temporary escape from the whirlwind of emotions I was barely keeping at bay.

I wondered where Taehyung was. His study, maybe? Vacuuming the living room? I hadn't heard from him since he cleared the breakfast tray.

It wasn't like I was avoiding him-okay, maybe a little. But it was only because I was trying to focus on my tasks while he did his, to give myself a moment to breathe, to process the way my heart kept tripping over itself every time I thought of him.

I tucked the final ironed shirt into Taehyung's side of the closet and stepped out of the bedroom, my bare feet soft against the hardwood. As I descended the stairs, a mouthwatering aroma hit me-savory, warm, with a hint of spices that made my stomach growl.

My steps quickened, drawn to the kitchen like a moth to a flame. And there he was. Taehyung. Humming a soft, carefree melody, completely unaware of the chaos he was causing in my chest.

He stood at the stove, an apron tied around his waist, a chef's cap perched adorably on his head, his hands busy with a sizzling pan.

Flour dusted his cheeks and the tip of his nose, and I couldn't help the quiet chuckle that slipped out. He looked ridiculous and perfect all at once. My heart swelled, and I stepped closer, leaning against the counter across from him.

"You've been cooking all this time?" I asked, peeking over to see what he was working on, my voice light but tinged with awe.

"It's almost done," he said, giving the pan a quick shake, chicken pieces sizzling and popping. "I was just about to call you." He glanced up, wiping his hands on a towel, and flashed me a smile that made my knees weak.

Flour streaked his face, and I had to fight the urge to reach out and wipe it away.

"You should've called me," I said, stepping closer, my fingers itching to touch him. "I could've helped." Before I could stop myself, I reached up, gently brushing the flour from his nose and cheeks.

My fingers lingered a second too long, and I felt my face heat up under his gaze.

"I would've," he said, his voice teasing as he feigned innocence, "But we both prefer tasty food."

My breath caught, mock offense flaring in my chest. I blinked, almost shocked. My sweet, kind husband-the one who once choked down my infamously salty bone soup without a single complaint-was mocking me about my bad cooking skills now?!

My mouth dropped open, and I stared at him, caught between indignation and amusement. This wasn't in my new year bingo card.

"Hey!"

He laughed, a soft, adorable sound that melted my fake outrage instantly. His eyes crinkled, and he grabbed my fingers, gently tugging me around the counter to the other side. With a playful flourish, he guided me to sit on the edge of the counter, stepping between my legs and caging me in with his hands on either side.

"I wanted to prepare everything," he said, his voice softer now, "And it's done."

He glanced back at the stove, where pots and pans simmered quietly. "Besides, I'd be damned if I let my wife work on her leave." He lifted my hand, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles, and I swear my heart stopped.

I bit my lip, looking down to hide the shy smile threatening to break free. "Still..." I mumbled, barely managing to keep my voice steady under this new, lover-like version of him. "I can bake. I could've made cookies."

He tilted his head, gesturing behind him with a smug grin. I followed his gaze and saw a tray of cookies cooling on the counter, golden and perfect. "How I knew you'd want cookies" he said, his voice dripping with pride.

My eyes widened, a mix of surprise and admiration bubbling up. He did all this-lunch, cookies, everything, while I had been folding clothes and daydreaming about books. Damn me.

I nodded, my lips curving into a grin as I watched him move back to the stove, my heart swelling with love and pride. He was... incredible. My husband, cooking for me, teasing me, making efforts, and making me feel like I was the center of his world.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" I asked, swinging my legs slightly as I watched him stir a pot of broth, the aroma making my stomach rumble again. He hummed, thinking.

"Hostel," he said, his voice light with nostalgia. "I was fifteen, and there was this cooking competition. I practiced with the hostel chef and thought, 'Oh, guess I've got a knack for this.'" He flashed me a boyish grin, and I couldn't help but grin back.

"Teach me someday?" I asked, half-joking, half-hoping. "When you're free."

He chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling as he set two plates on the counter. "Alright. But I can always cook for you, anytime."

My smile softened, and I felt that familiar warmth spread through my chest. He came back to me, setting a plate beside me and peeling off his cap and apron, revealing the casual, flour-dusted version of himself that made my heart skip.

"This actually looks so good," I said, awestruck, as I took in the spread-pork broth, rice, chicken, and those cookies waiting for dessert.

He laughed, picking up a spoon and scooping some broth and rice, bringing it to my lips. "Try this," he said, his voice proud. I leaned forward, taking the bite, and my eyes widened. It was rich, savory, with a warmth that reminded me of my grandmother's cooking.

"Mmm! This tastes just like Grandma's broth," I said, pointing at the plate. "You deserve a reward for this."

He nodded, leaning closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I know, right?" he said, and then, to my utter shock, he closed his eyes, puckering his lips slightly.

I choked, the rice catching in my throat as I realized what he was asking for. A kiss. My cough turned into a sputter, and-oh no-bits of rice sprayed onto his face.

My hands flew to my mouth, mortified. "Oh my God, Taehyung, I'm so sorry!" I whined, grabbing tissues and frantically wiping at his face, my cheeks burning. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Here," he said, pointing to his eye, his voice calm but teasing. I nodded, leaning in to dab at the spot, only for him to turn his head at the last second, stealing a quick peck on my lips.

I gasped, jerking back, my heart slamming against my ribs. He opened his eyes, a smirk spreading across his face, smug and utterly shameless.

"It's that easy, Mrs. Kim" he said, his voice low and playful, before he turned to grab the cookie tray, a faint flush creeping up his neck as if he'd surprised even himself with his boldness.

I touched my lips, still tingling from his sudden kiss, my face flaming as I tried to process what just happened.

And then he had the audacity to smirk and say, "It's that easy, Mrs. Kim."

Mrs. Kim?

Excuse me-what? Was that my title now? My new identity? My brand-new nickname? I wanted the floor to swallow me whole, or at least for time to rewind to five minutes ago when I wasn't internally combusting.

And for the record? It wasn't that easy, Mr. Kim. Not even close.

Do you even know what kind of war I'm fighting inside my head every time you so much as breathe near me? How hard I'm trying not to reach out and kiss you again-kiss you until you yourself shove me away? No. You don't.

You have no idea what it takes to keep my hands to myself. No idea how I have to block every indecent thought your presence puts in my head. And I do it. For your sake. To not make things weird. To not ruin the slow, sweet thing we have going on.

And you?

You just walk in, play a silly little trick, and then casually kiss me like it's the most normal thing in the world. A kiss. A peck, at that. Just a single, teasing brush of your lips, like you knew exactly what it would do to me.

You're playing with my mind and heart like it's your personal sandbox and I'm just supposed to smile through it?

It's unfair, Mr. Kim. So, so unfair.

________________________

After lunch, I stood at the sink, scrubbing dishes with a rhythm that felt almost meditative, the warm water soothing my hands but doing little to calm the storm in my chest. Taehyung was beside me, wiping down the counters, his movements quick and efficient.

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft clink of plates and the occasional splash of water, and it felt... normal. A new kind of normal, where the air between us hummed with something unspoken, warm and alive.

The memory of his peck on my lips lingered like a ghost, teasing my thoughts, making my stomach twist with a mix of nerves and want. I kept imagining what might've happened if we'd gone further than that quick, playful kiss-if his hands had lingered, if his lips had pressed harder, deeper.

For your own sake, Kim Yn-

The thought sent butterflies rioting through me, and I gripped the sponge tighter, trying to focus on the task and not the heat creeping up my neck.

Taehyung tossed his cleaning gloves beside the sink and I glanced at him, stepping aside as he leaned in to wash his hands, his arm brushing mine. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a spark through me, and I busied myself with drying a plate, stealing another glance at him.

I hoped he wouldn't catch me staring, but of course, he did. His eyes flicked to mine, a knowing glint in them, and my face flushed as I quickly looked away.

Without a word, he picked up another plate from the rack, wiping it dry with a towel, standing so close I could feel the warmth of him beside me. My heart stuttered, and I cursed myself for being so obvious.

"You know, I was thinking..." he started, his voice low, thoughtful, like he was about to say something important. My ears perked up, my hands pausing mid-wipe, but before he could finish-

Ding dong.

The doorbell chimed, sharp and unexpected, slicing through the moment. We both froze, our heads turning toward the front door before our eyes met, a shared question passing between us.

Who could that be? It was barely past noon, and we weren't expecting anyone.

"Did you invite someone over?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly, a hint of curiosity in his tone. I shook my head, just as puzzled. "No, I didn't."

"Let me check," I said, setting the plate down, but he was already moving.

"No, I've got it" he insisted, his voice firm but gentle, and before I could protest, he was striding toward the door.

I stayed in the kitchen, drying my hands on a towel, my mind still snagged on his half-finished sentence. The curiosity tugged at me, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the faint murmur of voices drifting from the entryway.

"Hello, Mr. Kim. It's been a while," a familiar voice said, bright and warm, followed by soft laughter.

"Is Y/n home?" another voice chimed in, equally familiar, and my curiosity got the better of me.

I stepped out of the kitchen and peered toward the front door.

Taehyung moved aside, gesturing toward me with a small smile. "She's right here," he said, and there they were-Rosy and Jisoo, their faces lighting up as they spotted me.

"Rosy... Jisoo," I breathed, and the next thing I knew, they were in my arms.

We hugged tightly, laughter and greetings overlapping. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Taehyung watching us-his expression unreadable at first, then softening into something close to awe. It made me blush, unexpectedly. I couldn't explain why, but suddenly I was very aware of him. Of us.

"I'll... take them to the library" I said, my voice a little too quick as I glanced at him, my hands still linked with Rosy and Jisoo.

His smile softened, a gentle nod that said, Take your time, it's okay. He turned back toward the kitchen, his broad shoulders disappearing around the corner, but my mind lingered on him.

That unfinished sentence-what was he thinking? A pang of guilt twisted in my chest. I'd interrupted him, or rather, the doorbell had, and now I was itching to know what he'd been about to say.

I promised myself I would ask him later, once Rosy and Jisoo were gone, once it was just us again. For now, I led my friends toward the library, their chatter filling the air, but a part of me stayed in the kitchen with Taehyung, with the warmth of his presence, the promise of whatever he'd left unsaid.

"You guys came over without any notice?" I asked, handing Rosy and Jisoo each a chilled juice can from the small fridge tucked in the corner of the library. I settled onto the cozy couch across from them, tucking my legs under me. "I mean, why so suddenly?"

Rosy sprawled across the sofa like she owned it, stretching her limbs dramatically, her feet plopping onto Jisoo's thighs as she cracked open the can with a satisfying hiss.

"Why? Did we interrupt something?" she asked, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk that made my stomach lurch.

Yes, you absolutely did.

I cleared my throat, waving off her comment with a forced nonchalance, my eyes rolling awkwardly. "It's not like that," I muttered, but my cheeks betrayed me, warming under their teasing gazes.

Jisoo leaned forward, her eyes glinting with playful suspicion. "There wasn't much work at the university, and we figured we'd drop by now that you're back from your mini honeymoon" she teased, drawing out the last two words with a wiggle of her brows.

I scoffed, shaking my head. "What mini honeymoon? It was just his business trip."

But the words felt hollow as memories from the trip flooded back-the cherry blossoms, the confessions, that kiss. My face burned, and I prayed they didn't notice the flush creeping up my neck.

"Oh, look at that blush!" Rosy crowed, her laughter bright and unrelenting. "Something's definitely up." I took a deep breath, willing my heart to slow down, but their knowing looks only made it worse.

"I'm not prying," she added, her tone mock-serious, "but come on, it's finally happening! About time, Yn!" She rolled her eyes playfully, tossing her hair for emphasis.

I groaned, sinking deeper into the couch.

"By the way," Rosy said, glancing around the library, her eyes scanning the shelves lined with books and the soft glow of the afternoon light filtering through the window, "isn't this, like, the first-no, second time we've been here?" I nodded.

"But still," I said, narrowing my eyes at them, "you guys should've texted or something before just popping up like this. We're all in relationships now. Would you be cool with me barging into your place unannounced?"

Jisoo smirked, leaning back with her juice can in hand. "I'd only throw a fit if you showed up while we were having some quality time" she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

I blinked rapidly, my face heating again as I ducked my head, desperate to avoid her knowing stare.

"I'm thinking of spending the night-" Rosy started, stretching her arms with an exaggerated yawn, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

"No way!" I snapped, cutting her off, and they both burst into laughter, their cackles filling the room.

I rolled my eyes, realizing there was no escaping their relentless teasing. "Alright, alright, pile it on, you brats. Take full advantage."

Rosy grinned wickedly, leaning over the couch to cage me between her arms, her face inches from mine as she gave me a mock-sultry look. "Oh, we will" she purred.

But before I could protest, there was a knock on the door.

Taehyung stepped inside, and Rosy straightened up immediately, shuffling back like a guilty student. He gave her a look-a brief, baffled glance like he was rethinking all of his life decisions-before walking in with a tray in his hands.

He set the tray on the tea table, revealing an assortment of snacks-crispy crackers, a small bowl of fruit, and those cookies he baked earlier.

My eyes widened slightly, touched by the gesture. But then I noticed his outfit: a white shirt, tailored pants, and a sleek red tie. He looked... polished, like he was about to walk into a boardroom, not our cozy library.

"I brought some snacks," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile, his cheeks tinged with a faint flush. "Thought you'd like something to munch on while you... gossip."

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended, a pang of curiosity mixed with it. He hadn't mentioned anything about leaving.

He nodded, his smile turning a little apologetic. "Yeah, some work came up unexpectedly. I'll be back by tonight, though." He paused, his eyes softening as they met mine. "Have a good chat, okay?" He gave a small, warm grin, waved once, and turned to leave.

But Rosy, ever the menace, couldn't resist. "But Mr. Kim," she called out dramatically, "may I have your wife instead?"

I froze.

Taehyung paused by the door. There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes as a grin slowly curled across his lips. "No," he said smoothly, "leave that one for me."

And then he walked out, casually shutting the door behind him like he hadn't just dropped a line straight out of a romance drama.

Jisoo choked on her drink.

I stared blankly at the door, wide-eyed, breath caught in my throat.

Silence.

And then-

We screamed.

The library exploded with laughter and shrieking as we flailed like teenage girls watching the climax of a K-drama. Rosy hugged a cushion, Jisoo was doubled over, and I was buried in my hands trying to recover from the attack that was Mr. Kim's exit line.

"Did he just-did he actually-"

"LEAVE THAT ONE FOR ME???"

"I CAN'T BREATHE!"

"That's the clear signal, girl. 'You're his snack tonight'"

"SHUT UPPP"

I couldn't stop smiling even if I tried.

My husband had just turned reality into a romantic cliché-and I wasn't mad about it one bit.

_________________________

After Rosy and Jisoo left, I texted Taehyung to ask if he'd be home for dinner. His reply was a simple no, so I reheated the lunch leftovers and had them.

I invited my friends to stay and eat, but they were too busy teasing me, giggling about how they'd rather "let Taehyung have me tonight" than ignore his so-called warning.

A warning? Seriously? He was just joking, definitely. Still, their words made my stomach flutter, and I shooed the two idiots out of the house before their teasing made me any more nervous.

By 9 p.m., I was curled up in the living room, the cozy brownish glow of the lamps casting soft shadows around me. My glasses perched on my nose, a book open in my lap, and a bowl of ice cream sat on the tea table.

I tried to focus on the pages, but my mind kept drifting to Taehyung. He wasn't back yet, and a quiet disappointment settled in my chest. This morning, he promised a week of just us, together at home, but now he was off handling work, just like that night at Grandma's when he left me alone until dawn.

I couldn't be mad, though. His dedication, his workaholic drive-it was part of what I loved about him. Still, I missed him, the ache of it was soft but persistent.

Another hour slipped by, three chapters down, my ice cream reduced to a melted puddle. The doorbell chimed, startling me. I dropped my book on the tea table, and hurried to the door.

There he was-my husband, standing in the dim porch light, looking like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. One hand clutched his coat, the other tucked in his pocket, his red tie crooked, his head bowed as if he'd fallen asleep on his feet.

He looked up, his weary eyes softening into a tired smile that made my heart twist. Before I could say anything, he stepped forward and hugged me-clung to me, his arms wrapping around like I was his lifeline.

I caught him, my hands sliding around his back, feeling his muscles loosen under my touch, the tension of his day melting away. I tightened my hold, and he buried his face in my shoulder, his hand rubbing my lower back, not with the tease, but with a quiet need, like he was seeking shelter in me. My heart swelled, and I pressed myself closer, wanting to be that safe place for him.

He pulled back slightly, his hands resting on my waist, his eyes heavy but warm. "I missed you" he mumbled, his voice low, his smile small and sweet, just for me. My lips curved into a soft smile, one I hoped he could feel was just for him.

He was only gone a few hours, but the truth was, I missed him too, his absence of a quiet hum in my chest. "I missed you too" I said, my voice barely above a whisper, but full of truth.

"You did?" he asked, a tired scoff slipping into a smile, his eyes searching mine. The exhaustion in them made my heart ache, but then he leaned closer, our faces inches apart, his breath warm against my lips. "May I?" he murmured, his voice a soft plea.

A smile tugged at my lips, my heart stopping at his sweet permission. I closed the distance, my heart racing. "I'm yours, Taehyung." I whispered against his mouth, and he didn't hesitate.

His lips pressed against mine, soft at first, gentle, like he was savoring me. My hands moved instinctively—one sliding to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair, the other gripping his nape to keep him close.

He tilted his head down, so I didn't have to stand on my toes, his one hand coming up to cup my face, kissing me deeper, exploring every angle like he wanted to claim every inch of my lips.

Then he paused, pulling back with urge, just enough to slip my glasses off with a careful hand, dropping them onto the nearby table. My stomach flipped at the gesture and before I could process it, his coat hit the floor, his hands tightened on my waist, and his lips crashed back into mine.

A soft moan escaped me, swallowed by his kiss as his tongue found mine, slow but deliberate, unraveling every thought in my head. My heart pounded so loudly it was all I could hear, his warmth all I could feel, like my soul had surged into his and I was nothing but him.

His lips, his hands, the way he moved inside my mouth—it consumed me, made my skin burn, my body hum with a heat that threatened to overwhelm me.

He lifted me effortlessly, his hands sliding under my thighs making me wrap my legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried me inside.

My back met the cool, polished wood of the piano, before he set me down on it urgently but gently, his forehead resting against mine as we caught our breath. But he didn't stop.

His lips grazed the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, like he needed me, and then—holy stars—he kissed my neck. My breath hitched, my head tipping back as I saw heaven.

"Taehyung..." His name slipped out, the only word I could manage, my voice shaky and desperate. My back arched, almost painfully, but his arms held me steady, grounding me against the storm he was stirring.

He smirked against my skin, a low hum vibrating through me as he pressed another kiss to my neck, then another, each one wetter, hungrier. "You like it?" he whispered, his breath hot against my pulse point, sending chills down my spine.

"You like being kissed on the neck?" His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me—and he loved it.

Did I like it? If this was a song, I'd play it until the heavens fell. I'd never been kissed like this before, never felt someone's lips on my neck, and it was undoing me in ways I couldn't describe. It burned and soothed, sparked and melted, and it made me ache in places I was too shy to name.

He sucked gently on my pulse point, and my eyes rolled back, my grip on his shoulders tightening, crumpling the crisp white shirt I admired earlier. I didn't care. I needed him. I wanted to lose myself in him, to chase the more my body was screaming for.

His kisses turned to soft bites, his tongue tracing my skin like I was a feast he couldn't get enough of. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, my head spinning with the intensity of it all. My fingers dug into him, desperate, needy, and I felt the heat pooling low in my stomach, a longing I didn't know how to voice.

He was giving me everything—cooking, cleaning, teasing me with that easy confidence, spending time with me like a good husband should. But this—this was what I craved the most, what I'd been too afraid to admit I wanted.

The way he touched me, kissed me, made me feel like I was his entire world. I didn't have the patience to hold back anymore. I wanted him to do all the things I only read about in books, to cross every line we'd been tiptoeing around.

Like a 'good husband' should.

"Let's go to the bedroom..." he murmured against my neck, his voice low and suggestive, his lips brushing my skin one last time.

My heart stuttered, my body screaming yes while my mind scrambled to catch up. I nodded, breathless, my hands still clinging to him as he pulled back, his eyes dark and warm, promising something that made my pulse race even faster.

He didn't let me walk—didn't even give me the chance. With my legs still wrapped around his waist, Taehyung scooped me up as if I weighed nothing, a d stepped towards the bedroom.

His gaze screamed one thing: You're mine tonight.

It sent a shiver through me, a mix of heat and nerves that twisted my insides, leaving me trembling with anticipation and something dangerously close to surrender.

He leaned in, his lips finding my throat again, kissing once; deeply, a slow, deliberate press that made my heart stutter and stop. Do it again, I thought, my body screaming for more.

I clung to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he carried me to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us with a soft thud. He laid me down on the bed, the mattress cool against my heated skin, and hovered over me, his presence overwhelming, like he was everywhere all at once.

"Look at me," he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety command that sent a jolt through my core. I forced my eyes open, hazy with desire and barely controlled heat, meeting his gaze. "Have you ever..." he started, his voice catching, "imagined us doing this?"

My breath hitched. What was I supposed to say? My cheeks burned as I bit my lip, my chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.

"When I read... smut," I admitted, my voice barely audible, "I always imagined you doing that to me." The confession felt like baring my soul, raw and vulnerable, and I couldn't meet his eyes anymore.

"Smut?" His brows knitted together, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before a slow, teasing grin spread across his lips. "What kind of books are you reading?" he asked, and before I could answer, his lips crashed against mine, claiming me with hunger that ate me.

He pulled away, his breaths ragged, and with a swift motion, he yanked off his tie, tossing it somewhere into the shadows of the room. His fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it with a kind of urgency that made my blood rush to my south.

"You asked for this" he warned, his voice low and rough, as he shrugged the shirt off, revealing the lean, sculpted lines of his body.

My mouth went dry, my eyes tracing the planes of his chest, the taut muscles of his arms. I was drooling, and I didn't even care.

He leaned over, opening the nightstand drawer and pulling out a condom packet, tossing it onto the bed beside me. My heart skipped at the sight, the reality of what was happening sinking in.

His face dipped back to the crook of my neck, and I felt his hand slip under my hoodie, lifting it with a quiet urgency. I gasped as his fingers grazed my skin, arching my back to give him access. With a deft movement, he unhooked my bra, the soft pop echoing in the quiet room.

My hoodie was gone next, tossed aside, followed by my bra, leaving me bare beneath him. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes darkening as they roamed over my exposed skin.

"Fuck..." he cursed under his breath, the raw edge in his voice making my skin flush a deep pink. I slapped my hands over my face, mortified, but he was quick to react, grabbing my wrists and pinning them on the either sides of my head.

"You look at me when I'm making love to you, Mrs. Kim" he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver through me.

My eyes fluttered open, meeting his intense gaze, and the weight of it made my breath catch. I could barely breathe, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

My body was a mess of contradictions—shivering with need, humming with desire, but also trembling with fear. I wanted this so badly, but the intensity of it, the newness, made me feel like I might faint before we even started. It was a deadly combination, one I didn't understand but couldn't resist.

"I want you to know that I love you as I make you mine" he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

His free hand slid down to the waistband of my night pants, and with a gentle tug, he hooked his fingers under the fabric. He released my wrists, lifting my legs to rest on his right shoulder as he slid my pants and panties off in one smooth motion, leaving me bare before him.

I stared at him in awe, my heart swelling with trust, with love.

He unbuckled his belt and slid down his pants along with his boxers, letting them pool at his knees, and reached for the condom, tearing the packet open with a quick, practiced motion. My breath hitched as I caught sight of him—his size, his presence—and I swallowed hard, a flicker of nerves sparking through me.

He leaned over me, propping one elbow beside my head, his other hand cupping my cheek, thumb brushing gently against my skin. His eyes were soft but burning, holding me steady.

"Will it... will it hurt?" I asked, my voice trembling as I blinked up at him. "A lot?"

He smiled, a warm, reassuring curve of his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Just kiss me" he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. His lips found mine again, slow and deep, and I closed my eyes, letting myself trust him completely.

His hand slid from my cheek to my hip, steadying me, and I felt him press himself against my entrance, the sensation making me gasp into his mouth.

He rubbed gently, teasing, and my eyes rolled back as a wave of heat surged through me. I wrapped my arms around his back, clinging to him, my nails digging into his skin as I surrendered to the moment, to him, to us.

My fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to anchor myself to him as the heat between us grew. I felt him shift, the tip of him pressing against me again, with pressure, teasing, rubbing slowly, and a soft whimper escaped my lips, as I felt myself getting wet under him.

His eyes were dark, molten, filled with a hunger that mirrored the ache pulsing through me. "You're so beautiful" he murmured, kissing the birth scar on my collar bone, his voice low and rough, like it was pulled from somewhere deep inside him.

His hand slid from my hip to my thigh, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there, coaxing my legs to part further. I gasped, as he pressed himself closer, the slow drag of him against me making my head spin.

"Taehyung..."

The sound seemed to spur him on, his kisses growing hungrier, his teeth grazing my pulse point in a way that made my vision blur. My hands roamed his back, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, feeling them flex under my touch as he moved above me.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured against my neck, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. "Tell me what you want, Y/n." His hand slid up my side, his palm warm against my bare skin, and I shivered, my body humming with a need that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.

"I want you...." I breathed, the words slipping out before I could overthink them.

His eyes darkened, a soft groan escaping his lips as he bit my cleavage, with a hard, hungry intensity that made my toes curl. I gasped, my hips lifting instinctively toward him.

He pressed himself closer, the pressure at my entrance slow and teasing, and I felt a sharp, delicious ache spread through me. My breath hitched, my fingers digging into his back as he eased forward, just enough to make my body tense, then relax into him.

"Relax, love," he whispered, his lips brushing mine, his voice a soothing anchor. "I've got you." His hand cupped my face, his thumb stroking my cheek as he pushed forward slowly, carefully, the stretch unfamiliar but not painful, just... intense.

I gasped, my eyes fluttering shut, and he paused, giving me time to adjust.

He moved, his hips pressing forward with a gentle, steady rhythm then pulling out, just to slid in again.

The sensation was an overwhelming mix of pressure and pleasure that made my head spin, my body arching to meet him. Every touch, every movement felt like it was pulling me apart and putting me back together, like I was his and he was mine in a way I'd never understood until now.

"You feel so good" he murmured against my skin, his voice rough, almost reverent, as his hand slid down to grip my hip, guiding my movements to match his.

The rhythm grew steadier, deeper, and I felt a heat building inside me, coiling tighter with every thrust, every kiss. My breaths came in short, desperate gasps, my body moving with his, chasing something I could feel but couldn't name.

"Taehyung..." I moaned, my voice breaking as the pleasure crested, my body trembling beneath him. He rose up, watching me from above as I unraveled under his dominance, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate.

His hand slid between us, thumb finding the sensitive spot that made my vision white out, he only pinched it, and I cried out, my nails digging into his arms as the world shattered around me. He followed moments later, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he buried his face in my neck, his breaths hot and ragged against my skin.

We stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, our breaths slowing, the room quiet except for the soft hum of our heartbeats. He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, his arms wrapping around me as he shifted to lie beside me, pulling me into his chest.

"I love you" he whispered, his voice soft but certain, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.

I nestled closer, my body still humming, my heart full to bursting. "I love you too" I murmured, my voice muffled against his skin. The weight of what we'd just done settled over me, not heavy but warm, like a blanket I never wanted to leave.

This was us-new, raw, and so perfectly ourselves. And as I drifted into the warmth of his embrace, I knew I'd never want anything else.

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A/n:- I think Yn was ovulating...