#choi seungcheol imagines
Note
HII if your taking requests I would love a scoups image where him and reader are already dating but kuma likes her more that him and scoups gets a bit jelly thank you I love your work
number one
pairing: choi seungcheol (s.coups) x gender neutral reader
genre: fluff, established relationship
word count: 596
warnings: an attack with love, being chased around, cheol being pouty, kkuma. my princess.
author note: AAA thank you so much anon <33 i appreciate the support so much 🫶 i hope you like this !!
masterlist
related to how to get to know a dog (and their owner)
seungcheol doesn’t know how this happened if he’s being honest.
yes, he did get to know you solely because of your interest in his family dog, kkuma, but he didn’t expect kkuma to love you as much as you loved her. in fact, kkuma warming up to you was a major accomplishment, all the way back when you first started dating. of course seungcheol’s glad; two important parts of his life being together is great! he can spend time with both of you at once and everyone’s happy.
however…he doesn’t understand why his dog goes to you first when the two of you enter the door of his family apartment. it can’t be because seungcheol goes to greet his mother first, giving her a side hug before entering the living room. his mother notices the sulky look on his face and cackles, calling your name. “look, cheol’s jealous of you because kkuma loves you more than him!”
you scratch behind the mentioned dog’s ears before joining in on the laughter—you stop when cheol’s pout grows infinitely worse, and he groans. “i never said that, ma! and you,” he looks at you sharply before pouting harder—somehow, that’s possible. “i love you but come on! we all know i’m number one in kkuma’s heart, so why are you trying to take my place?!”
you roll your eyes at his accusation, getting up to grab his hands, kkuma trailing behind you as if she owns the place—well, in a way she does, considering that the building is named after her. you grab your boyfriend’s hands before smiling sweetly. “my love.” cheol’s face warms at the nickname, and his mother groans about young love in the corner of the room. you continue, “kkuma just likes me better, and you have to deal with it! it’s not my fault i’m more interesting than you.”
you stick your tongue out at seungcheol, his mouth wide open before he closes his eyes, trying to calm himself. sensing danger, you back away from him slowly, almost tripping over kkuma. seungcheol calls your name eerily soft as his eyebrow twitches before he yells out your name and starts to chase you around the living room. cheol’s mother sighs at your childish antics as you run around her, using the light blue loveseat in the middle of the room to block your boyfriend.
“cheol, what—” you start before he lunges for you, grabbing you in a tight hug. seungcheol lets you go once you freeze in place, breathing heavily as he glares at you. “kkuma likes me better, okay? i promise you, i’ll always be her favourite, no matter how much she loves you!” he says as you giggle at him.
taking cheol’s hand in yours, you speak gently, not wanting to rile him up more. “sweetie, it’s not a competition, you know that, right?”
your boyfriend sighs before nodding, and pulling you into a hug once more—except this one is meant as an apology, and not to hold you down. kkuma barks up at the two of you, whining for more ear scratches and pets.
you grin mischievously at cheol before placing a kiss on his cheek. “you know…we can work together to give kkuma all the love she deserves, right?”
he looks back at you with the same expression on his face before giggling and poking your cheek. “we’re her parents after all, aren’t we?”
you nod at cheol seriously, choosing to ignore the offended scoff you hear from his mother, and bend down together to attack kkuma with as much love as possible.
#dokries works#moon answers!#seventeen#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#choi seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol fluff#choi seungcheol imagines#choi seungcheol scenarios#scoups x reader#scoups scenarios#scoups fluff#scoups imagines#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol x reader
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This Is Devotion | csc x f!reader
You've spent your whole life taking care of yourself. Seungcheol thinks it's time someone else took over.
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.0k | Pairing: csc x f!reader | Genre: smut
Warnings: alcohol mention (they meet at a bar), daddy kink, sugar daddy vibes but he’s a bf first, fingering, praise kink, v light choking, condomless piv sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, breeding kink and impreg kink but mainly at the end, wants to wife you up fr
Reader Notes: eldest daughter, on birth control, gets carried by cheol
Seungcheol didn’t really expect to meet the love of his life at a bar on a regular Friday night, but as soon as he saw you, he knew you were something special. And as soon as he spoke to you, got to know you, he knew he wanted to learn more.
The way you carried yourself didn’t make you seem the most receptive - you were closed off, seemingly disinterested, but when he started to back away, intending to let you enjoy your night without him as you appeared to want, you got this look in your eye like he was doing exactly the opposite of what you desired.
So he stuck around, asked if he could buy you a drink, keeping a respectful distance between your body and his even though he felt like you were a celestial being with your own gravity pulling him in. He learned a lot about you that night - what you do for work, what you do for fun, whether you’d be open to him taking you out - but he didn’t learn what it was that made you so standoffish when he first approached you.
That didn’t come until later, until the fourth date and the family talk. Over a dinner he spent hours preparing, you told him that you were the eldest of three children, and that you’d practically raised your younger siblings yourself. Your parents worked hard, too hard to spend much time or energy on you, so you raised yourself too.
You took on two jobs to pay for college because most of your family’s money was spent on your younger siblings' extracurriculars, and you graduated with honors but with no one to cheer for you, to celebrate you. They were all too busy, apparently, though Seungcheol didn’t know what could possibly be more important than you reaping the reward of all the effort and stress you had put into your schooling.
He tried to tell you that you deserved better, but you were adamant that you were used to taking care of yourself, to being alone. You said that the friends you made along the way were your new family and that they treated you better than you deserved.
Seungcheol could have talked until he was blue in the face about just what it was he thought you deserved.
He knew you wouldn’t hear it though, so he took it upon himself to show you instead.
It wasn’t long after that date that he asked if he could be your boyfriend, and as soon as you said yes, he vowed to himself that as long as you kept him around, you would know what it was to be taken care of.
He started slow. First, it was making sure your car always had gas and your oil changes were always up to date. You used to drive it almost to empty, and he knew that was bad for both your fuel pump and your stress levels, so he would pop into your work every so often to bring you your favorite little treat and grab your keys to fill it up. You always gave him your credit card and he always took it, but never once did he make use of it.
Once you grew accustomed to that, he moved on to being your driver for girl’s night out. You would always text him while you were in the uber so he knew you were safe, but after one too many sleazy guys flirted with you and your friends, he stepped in. You had already shared locations with each other (again, for safety reasons), so when you texted him that you were gearing up to go, he told you to cancel the ride and look for his car instead.
He drove every one of your friends home and saw them up to their door before taking you back to your apartment, lovingly removing your makeup, and getting you into pajamas. He tried to tuck you in and leave, but you caught his hand and tugged him into bed with you, snuggling up under his arm before promptly knocking out. Knowing that you felt safe enough to fall asleep with him was his favorite form of payment.
You had one, maybe two outings a month, and Seungcheol was happy to keep those nights clear of plans so he could make sure you and all your friends got home safely. It was just a bonus that every one of those nights turned into a sleepover with you wrapped up in his arms, warm and soft against him.
It wasn’t until a few months in that he started spending more money on you. He loved to buy you snacks and milk teas and lip gloss but he knew there were things you wanted that were simply out of your budget. He also knew you would never let him pay your rent so you could buy those things, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t buy them for you. So he would take you out shopping under the pretense of needing something new himself, keeping an eye on what your eye lingered on and making note of it in his mind.
The first purchase was a necklace you loved so much, the sight of it made you gasp. He was getting his watch repaired and you had wandered off to look around, and when he heard that gasp he knew instantly that whatever it was, it would be yours. It took him all of two minutes to flag an employee down, ask them to package up the item you loved, and add it to his total.
When he presented it to you, you tried to say it was too much, that you couldn’t accept such a gift. He pouted until you sighed and moved your hair out of the way, allowing him to put the necklace on you and smiling a small, pleased smile as you felt at the delicate chain and pendant.
After that came dresses and shoes and cookware and other things you would never let yourself splurge on but you also wouldn’t want to say no to. You worried for his finances but Seungcheol was a smart spender before you, and he earned and saved enough that every gift for you barely made a dent. It was money he was happy to spend, especially when he got to see you wearing or using the things he bought you.
You would joke and say he wasn’t just your boyfriend but your sugar daddy, and he laughed, at first.
Then, he thought about it more, thought about how he lived to take care of you, to show you what you deserved, to make sure you were happy and healthy and safe, and he realized that maybe he was your sugar daddy, in a way.
Hearing you call him daddy for the first time still almost sends him to an early grave, though.
It happens when he’s balls deep inside of you. Your thighs are hitched up high on his waist and your arms are wrapped around his neck, holding him close enough he has to brace himself on his forearms and fold his knees on either side of your hips. It’s not like that’s a hardship, not when he can press his forehead to yours and breathe your air, staring into your eyes as he fucks in and out of you, your pussy perfectly formed around his aching cock.
He loves feeling close to you like this, and the closeness is the only reason he hears it.
“Daddy,” you sigh, in the smallest voice he’s ever heard from you.
He stills immediately, his dick throbbing and leaking inside of you as he tries to hold off his orgasm, his heart thumping so hard in his chest, he’s fearful it’ll jump out of his ribcage and straight into yours.
“What did you say?” He asks, because he’s sure there’s no way you called him that, independent and self-reliant as you are.
“Nothing,” you respond much too quickly, and he wants to press further, but your voice is nervous and your face is tense, and he doesn’t want to push you if you’re not ready.
So he keeps going, fucks you until you cum and then fills you up, dragging you into the shower after so he can rinse you clean and get you into some warm pajamas.
Seungcheol wakes before you the next day, uses the time to stare at you and think everything through.
You’ve always had to take care of yourself, always had to fill other cups before your own, until he came along. Over the year and a half that he’s spent with you, he’s made every effort to take the load off, to tend to you in ways that you’ve never experienced before. You’ve softened up over time, gotten used to him protecting and nurturing you, and you’ve rewarded him with your trust and your love.
It makes sense that you would call him daddy, and it makes sense that he would fucking adore it.
So when you start to stir, he tucks you closer to him, your back aligned with his front and his hardening cock pressed into the plush of your ass. One arm is draped over your waist, his hand covering your breast, and his other arm is stretched out beneath your neck, bent at the elbow to band over your chest and hold your shoulder. You’re completely wrapped up in him, and as soon as you hum and tilt your hips back into his, he kisses up your neck and murmurs, “Let me take care of you, baby. Let daddy do the work, huh?”
You gasp and wriggle in his hold, but he hugs you tighter and says, “That’s what you called me last night, right? I don’t mind, sweetheart.”
“Are you sure it’s not… weird?” You whisper quietly, and he can picture the anxious expression you must be wearing. He gently sinks his teeth into your neck before responding, “It’s not weird to me, baby. You know I love taking care of you.”
You relax muscle by muscle, and by the time his hand wraps around your thigh and pulls it up and out, you’re boneless against him. “Can you hold that leg up for me, honey? I’m gonna touch you.”
“Okay, daddy,” you sigh sweetly as you take over for him, his entire body lighting up at the sound of you saying that word with such ease.
You’re drenched when he slides his fingers between your legs, pushing aside your pajama shorts to touch you bare and groaning at the feeling of your soaking heat. His fingertips glide as he drags them from your entrance up to your clit, soft little sounds escaping you when he presses circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
He thinks this might be the wettest you’ve ever been for him, and he luxuriates in the feeling of having cracked your code, of knowing that you’ve never been more open or trusting with him before. It means he’ll have to treat you delicately, but Seungcheol is nothing if not devoted, dedicated, committed to being everything you could ever need.
He works you up just like this, with his fingertips soft on your clit and his lips gentle on your neck, mumbling little promises about how daddy will always make you feel good, always love you, always put you first.
“I want you inside, daddy,” you cry, and he feels himself throb against you, leaking in his boxers and desiring you more than the air he breathes.
“Cum for me first, baby, I know you can do it.”
To help you along, he slips two fingers inside of you, his thumb taking over on your clit, pressing insistently as his fingers curl, searching for the spot that always makes you gush. He finds it quickly, grinding with his fingertips as he wraps his other hand around the base of your neck, barely squeezing. A grin stretches his lips when you start to move with him, your walls clenching down on his digits as you get closer and closer to the edge.
He knows you’re right there by the sounds escaping you, by the way your cunt is fluttering around his fingers, by the arousal seeping out with every dig into your sweet spot. It’s really just a matter of timing and luck that you break when he says, “You’re such a good girl for daddy, show me how good you are and cum.”
The whine you let out is enough to have him bucking into you, the sound so plaintive and vulnerable that he wants to wrap you up tight in his arms and never let you go. Your pussy weeps around his fingers, sucking them in deeper and squeezing in pulses, your walls gripping them strongly enough that he feels the phantom pressure around his cock.
“So fucking perfect, so sweet and beautiful and wet for me, baby. Fuck, I love you,” Seungcheol pants into your throat, dotting the soft skin with kisses and little bites.
“I love you. Will you fuck me now, daddy?” You try to turn your head to look at him and he breathes, “Yes, baby,” before freeing his fingers with a slick sound and sucking them into his mouth. He hums at the taste of you as he shifts away, giving you enough space to roll onto your back and kneeling between your legs when you spread them.
He’s fucked you from behind before and he will again, but right now he wants to gaze into your eyes, watch your lips form around the word he didn’t know he’s been aching to hear.
You’re too pretty for him to not look at you anyway, especially as he tugs one thigh up around his waist and pushes the other up to your belly. He loves getting you into position, loves the way you stare trustingly at him and let him move you, loves knowing that you believe he’ll never do anything but bring you pleasure.
He tucks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and pushes them down, grinning bashfully and feeling his ears heat as your eyes immediately drop to his cock. He’s insanely hard for you, flushed and leaking and desperate, and he feels himself twitch when you whimper, “Daddy, please, I need you so bad.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’ll always give you what you need,” he promises, pushing your pajama shorts to the side again and taking hold of his dick to line himself up.
He can’t resist gliding the head of his cock through your wet folds, grinding into your clit before sliding down and starting to sink inside. A groan escapes without his permission but he doesn’t try to swallow it, wants you to know what you do to him, how you make him feel.
Being surrounded, enveloped by you is the best sensation in the world, the grip of your wet heat dizzying and comforting and more than enough to drive him crazy, no matter how many times he’s felt you before.
Your cunt is heaven on earth, like nothing else he’s ever experienced, and he considers it his sacred duty to make sure you never forget that.
“Perfect fucking pussy, baby, god,” he moans, barely halfway inside of you and already feeling the flames of pleasure licking at his spine.
You flutter around him at his words, your arms rising to wrap around his neck and draw him in close, mirroring the exact position he had you in last night.
You must realize it too because your breath hitches before you tilt your head up and gently press your lips to his, mumbling, “Daddy,” into his mouth as he finally bottoms out. It makes him twitch inside of you, makes his hips roll into yours, makes his heart feel so full, it aches.
He almost can’t bear to leave you but he knows he’ll have to if he wants to fuck you, so with only a little reluctance, he draws back, fighting a shiver when cold air hits the wetness on his cock.
You dig your heel into his ass and urge him forward, your eyes needy and your gasp desperate as he bucks into you and fills you again. You used to need some time to adjust to him, but you take him often enough now that he can move within you smoothly, your generous arousal easing the way even as your walls cling to him.
The rhythm he sets is slow, measured, but he slides in deep and hooks his hips up on the way out to drag over your sweet spot, your pussy just getting wetter and wetter around him. The sounds are obscene, the slap of his hips meeting your ass and the squelch of his cock reaching the end of you loud compared to the peaceful silence of the early morning.
Every time he gets inside of you feels like the first but is somehow better than the last, and he knows that doesn’t make sense but he’s senseless when it comes to you anyway, his logic and reasoning replaced by tenderness and infatuation. It’s even worse now that there’s this added facet of caring, of responsibility, this knowledge that you’re entrusting him with a side of you he’s sure no one has ever seen before.
“How is it, baby?” His voice is ragged, tight and rough with lust when he speaks, but his tone is as gentle and loving as his thrusts are.
A minute passes before you can respond and he practically watches the words form in your head, his gaze heavy on you as you put them together letter by letter.
“So good, daddy, you make me feel… whole,” you sigh blissfully, your fingers twirling the hair at the nape of his neck and your inner muscles clenching around him.
He can’t hold back the shiver this time, not when your response floods him with greedy affection and a covetous sense of possession, one that goes both ways. He belongs to you as much as you belong to him, and he knows you belong together just like he knows that the sky is blue and the earth is round.
It’s frightening, almost, to think that there’s nothing on this planet that he loves more than he loves you. But it’s worth the risk, worth the vulnerability, worth the fear to get to be the one who makes you feel whole. He can’t help but hope he’ll be the only one who does for the rest of your life.
Which is a dangerous vein of thought considering the fact that he already has a 3 carat diamond ring hidden in his study, just waiting to be slid onto your left fourth finger.
He’s inches from disentangling himself from you to go get it, but this is neither the time nor the place.
Instead, he leans in and ardently locks his lips with yours, breathing into you all of his passion, all of his sincerity. You kiss him back like you can taste it, adjusting your leg around his waist so you can hold him closer, his movements in and out turning into a slow, dirty grind.
“Love you so fucking much,” he murmurs into your mouth, his lips stretching in a grin when you mumble back to him, “Love you more, Cheollie.”
“I don’t think that’s possible, baby,” he chuckles brokenly, pleasure starting to knot low in his belly, his cock growing harder and his balls tightening as he gets closer and closer.
“Agree to disagree,” you laugh breathlessly, tugging his hair and gasping sharply when he snakes one hand between your bodies to rub at your swollen clit.
You squeeze down around him, your pussy molding to his cock like he was made for you, made to fill you where you’re empty, and fuck, he’s sure he was. Every part of him was built for loving you, there’s no other explanation for how flawlessly you fit in his arms, his life, his heart.
He can tell you’re nearing the edge, your walls spasming and your eyes glazing over, and he holds off his own release even as it spools in his stomach like molten twine. Breaking before you simply isn’t an option; breaking after you is, but he knows well that any nirvana he could reach is infinitely better when he reaches it with you.
“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? For daddy? I’ll fuck you full of my cum if you do,” he promises darkly, already envisioning himself spreading your legs and watching his seed seep out of your stretched pussy.
“Yeah, daddy, I’m- I’m-”
A weak cry cuts you off, your mouth stuck open as tears dampen your lashes and leak down your temples. Your cunt clamps down around him in pulses, so hot and wet and tight that it draws out his own orgasm, his heart pounding as his cock jerks and spurts cum deep inside of you, so deep he wonders if it’ll stick. You’re on birth control but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t want to make you his wife then breed you full, get you pregnant, leave no room for doubt that he both loves you and fucks you like you deserve.
The thought makes him hard enough to keep going, to grind into you and push his cum even deeper inside, his fingers still swirling circles around your sensitive clit. It’s not long before you’re digging your nails into his shoulders and keening for him, your thighs shaking and your back arching off the bed as you fall to pieces again.
He slides his arm beneath your shoulders and hefts you up against him, burying his face in your neck and holding you close as he cums inside of you for the second time. This one leaves him a bit teary eyed too, thoughts and wishes and desires racing through his mind, visions of the life you could share making him swallow down a sob.
You sense the shift in his emotions, your fingers carding through his hair and your voice soft as you tell him that you love him, that you always will, that you’ll spend all the rest of your life making sure he knows.
Seungcheol feels like this is his job but the comfort you bring him is worth admitting that he can be just as needy as you.
He stays tangled up with you for what feels like ages, long enough for the sweat on his back to dry and the arm underneath you to fall asleep, and when he emerges, he feels like a new man.
A new man that still wants to lay between your thighs and watch his cum leak out of you.
You’re not shy about it anymore, happy to let your legs fall open and drag your nails over his scalp as he rests his head on your soft inner thigh, his eyes locked on your glistening cunt.
“Prettiest pussy in the whole wide world,” he mumbles dazedly before glancing up at your face and correcting himself, “Prettiest baby in the whole wide world.”
Minutes pass before you squirm in discomfort and he peels himself away, accepting that it’s time to get you in the bath.
“C’mon, honey, up you go,” he says quietly, reaching for your hands and starting to pull you, his biceps tensing when you refuse to cooperate.
“Carry me, Cheollie,” you beg rather adorably, and he doesn’t even have it in himself to roll his eyes as he leans in close enough for you to wrap your arms and legs around him before straightening up with you attached to his front.
He hefts you up higher against his body, one arm around your back, the other under your ass, and says, “That’s daddy to you, baby,” as he lumbers to the bathroom, not so secretly pleased to be needed by you.
AN: i didn't really ever see myself writing full blown daddy kink outside of kinktober but here we are and im not mad about it!!
inspired by discussions with my anons ily all i hope you like it
#svthub#k vanity#seungcheol fanfic#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol smut#seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol imagines#scoups x reader#scoups smut#scoups imagines#scoups x you#choi seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol smut#choi seungcheol x you#choi seungcheol imagines#seventeen fic#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt smut#svt fanfic#kpop oneshots#kpop scenarios#kpop smut#kpop fanfic#✨emily writes✨
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Synopsis: After years of being Mr. Choi's personal secretary, you had become accustomed to the dynamics of working closely with him. However, fate had brought about a change – Mr. Choi's son, Seungcheol, would now be taking over the company. Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol had harbored a secret crush on you for years.
Word Count: 8k
Warnings: Smut, mentions of collapsing, blacking out, burn-out, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f. receiving), cock riding (pro-riddah), 'jealousy', all types of moans and whimpering, crush confessions, creampie, reader is mentioned as 'noona' sometimes.
You started at the company fresh out of college, eager to make your mark in the corporate world. Landing an internship and apprenticeship seemed like the perfect opportunity to kickstart your career. But from the beginning, it was a whirlwind. The partners and directors barely acknowledged your presence, treating you as if you were invisible.
Their dismissive attitudes fueled your determination to prove yourself. You worked tirelessly, absorbing every bit of knowledge and skill you could. Despite the frustrations and challenges, you persevered, determined to make your mark.
Then, when chaos descended and problems arose, suddenly you were thrust into the spotlight. Issues that had been brewing for months seemed to land squarely on your shoulders. It was as if your colleagues had only just noticed your existence, expecting you to magically solve all their problems.
But you didn't falter. Instead, you faced each challenge head-on, drawing upon your education, experience, and sheer determination. With each obstacle overcome, your confidence grew, and your colleagues began to take notice.
You hit the big leagues when you stepped into the role of a top executive, becoming the right-hand person to Mr. Choi, the company's director. From picking out his ties to scrutinizing private contracts, your responsibilities spanned the spectrum.
Every single morning, like clockwork, you'd hop into your car with a casket of coffee and croissants for Mr. Choi. Strutting into the office in your killer heels and impeccable attire, you were ready to make an impression, especially during those crucial meetings where you stood by Mr. Choi's side.
Being Mr. Choi's right arm wasn't just about fetching coffee; it was about being his trusted confidante, advisor, and problem-solver, all rolled into one.
"Y/N, can you schedule a meeting with the board members for next week?"
"Absolutely, Mr. Choi."
"Y/N, can you prepare a presentation for the investors' conference?"
"I'll have it ready in no time, Mr. Choi."
"Y/N, can you liaise with our international partners regarding the new partnership agreement?"
"Of course, Mr. Choi."
"Y/N, could you buy a birthday gift for my son?"
"I'll take care of it, Mr. Choi. "
"Y/N, could you book a reservation at that new restaurant for my wife's birthday dinner?"
"Consider it done, Mr. Choi."
Your life was a whirlwind, with the constant ticking of the clock mirroring the click-clack of your heels wherever you went. Tension hung heavy in the air, creeping up your neck like a suffocating scarf. Dark circles under your eyes were a testament to the countless nights of poor sleep, hidden only by layers of concealer slapped onto your face.
Cups of coffee became your lifeline, keeping your eyes wide open until you finally collapsed onto your bed at night. It was a relentless cycle of hustle and grind, each day blending into the next in a blur of meetings, deadlines, and demands.
Despite the chaos of your professional life, there was a silver lining: the bills were paid, and then some. Your salary exceeded your wildest expectations, causing whispers among your coworkers about just how much you were making. But Mr. Choi never wavered in his support, always quick to defend your worth and affirm that you deserved every penny.
He'd extend invitations for you to spend time with his family, insisting that you join them at their summer house. You'd seen his family at various company events and dinners, and while you appreciated the gesture, you couldn't shake the feeling of intruding on their private time. So, respectfully, you always declined, preferring to maintain a professional boundary despite Mr. Choi's insistence. – even though he wanted you to choose even the color of his ties.
On another typical day in the office, you meticulously scheduled a meeting for Mr. Choi, gathering his collaborators for an important discussion. As usual, you stood faithfully by his side, your sharp heels elevating you to eye level with the top brass.
The room was set, and you watched as the group filed in, taking their seats around the sleek glass table.
But something caught your eye—a figure among the usual faces. It was Seungcheol, Mr. Choi's son, entering the room. It was a rare sight to see him at these meetings, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity.
What struck you even more was the watch adorning Seungcheol's wrist. It was the Audemars Piguet timepiece that Mr. Choi had asked you to purchase for his birthday last year. You remembered selecting it based on your own taste, so seeing Seungcheol wearing it filled you with a sense of pride. It was a small validation that your choices were appreciated, even by the boss's son.
As Mr. Choi began the meeting, you were right there by his side, ready to assist with whatever he needed.
"Good morning, everyone. Thank you for joining us today," Mr. Choi began, his voice commanding the attention of the room.
You quickly handed him a folder containing the agenda for the meeting, making sure everything was in order.
"First, let's review the progress on our latest project," Mr. Choi continued, flipping through the documents in the folder.
"Of course, Mr. Choi," you interjected, pulling up the relevant slides on the screen for everyone to see.
As the meeting progressed, you anticipated Mr. Choi's needs, fetching him water when his throat grew dry and passing him important documents without skipping a beat.
"As some of you may know, over the past few months, I've been dealing with some health issues," Mr. Choi continued, his gaze sweeping across the room. "And after much consideration and consultation with my doctors, I've come to the difficult decision that I need to take some time away from the company to focus on my health."
Silence fell over the room, the weight of his words sinking in. This was unexpected, and you could feel the tension in the air.
Then, as Mr. Choi's eyes met yours, you saw an understanding dawn in Seungcheol expression. Everything suddenly clicked into place—the presence of Mr. Choi's son at the meeting.
Then, Mr. Choi continued, "During my absence, I've decided that my son, Seungcheol, will be stepping into my role temporarily."
All eyes turned to Seungcheol as he rose from his seat and bowed respectfully. You couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty, but Mr. Choi's next words put you at ease.
"And I have full confidence in both Seungcheol and Y/N," Mr. Choi declared, gesturing towards you. "Y/N will be assisting the whole team, and Seungcheol in any way necessary during this transition period."
You lifted your head, meeting Seungcheol's gaze as he nodded at you. Despite any doubts you may have had, you knew that Seungcheol was capable. You had seen glimpses of his dedication during family dinners, noticing how he would often excuse himself to study.
After the meeting, you found yourself alone with Mr. Choi in the conference room. He looked at you with a gentle expression and asked, "Y/N, why do you seem so worried?"
You offered a small smile, trying to mask your concerns. "I didn't realize your health was deteriorating to this extent," you admitted softly.
Mr. Choi returned your smile, his eyes filled with understanding. "I kept it under wraps as best as I could," he said reassuringly. "But I'm confident that everything will be fine, especially with you and Seungcheol at the helm."
Just then, Seungcheol entered the room, and Mr. Choi's attention shifted to his son. "Seungcheol, Y/N will be here to keep you in line," Mr. Choi teased with a grin. "If you step out of line, she has my permission to pull your ear."
Seungcheol chuckled shyly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he nodded in acknowledgment.
Mr. Choi raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. "Well, she's the best secretary anyone could have," he remarked, his tone teasing. "If she ever decides to leave because of you, consider yourself dead."
You couldn't help but laugh at the exchange, appreciating the camaraderie between father and son. "I'm not going anywhere, Mr. Choi," you reassured him with a smile. "You're stuck with me for the long haul."
The days following Mr. Choi's announcement were a whirlwind as you attempted to navigate the new dynamic with Seungcheol in charge. You found yourself juggling multiple tasks, trying to prioritize and triage everything so that Seungcheol could acclimate to the heightened demands of his new role.
Despite the added pressure, you remained steadfast in your routine. Each morning, you meticulously dressed, ensuring every detail of your attire was perfect. You prepared Mr. Choi's favorite coffee and croissants, just as you had done for his father every day.
One morning, as you placed the casket on Seungcheol's desk, you noticed him peering up from his papers with a furrowed brow. "Why do you bring me coffee every day?" he asked, his tone curious yet slightly perplexed.
You paused, taken aback by the question. Tilting your head slightly, you replied, "I did this every day for your dad."
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Did my dad ask for this every day?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.
You nodded in affirmation, but before you could say anything else, Seungcheol interjected. "You don't need to do that," he stated firmly, shaking his head.
You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off. "Seriously, you don't have to go out of your way for me like that," he insisted, his expression earnest.
You paused, considering his words for a moment before nodding in understanding. "Alright," you acquiesced with a small smile, realizing that perhaps Seungcheol's management style was different from his father's.
As the days passed and the workload continued to pile up, you found yourself working late into the night, long after your scheduled shift had ended. Massaging your temples, you stared at the glowing computer screen, the soft hum of the office, the only sound in the empty building.
Glancing up at the clock, you realized with a start that it was already 10 p.m. The realization made your shoulders sag with exhaustion, but you knew there were still tasks that needed your attention.
Looking around your office, which was nestled within the boss's office and separated only by glass walls, you noticed that the rest of the building was deserted. The departments were dark, their lights extinguished for the night.
As the first rays of sunlight filtered into the office, you blinked in surprise, realizing with a jolt that you had slept at your desk. Glancing at the clock, which now read 6:00 a.m., you felt a surge of panic course through you. You couldn't believe you had let yourself fall asleep at work.
Quickly, you sprang into action, rushing to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth and try to salvage your appearance. Splashing cold water on your face, you hoped it would help wake you up and banish the grogginess that clung to you.
With shaky hands, you reapplied your makeup, doing your best to hide the signs of exhaustion that lingered beneath your eyes. You knew that going home to freshen up wasn't an option—there was simply too much to do and not enough time.
"You're early, Ms. Y/N," Seungcheol's voice cut through the early morning haze, causing you to startle slightly. You managed a small smile in response, trying to mask the fatigue that weighed heavily on you.
As Seungcheol looked you up and down, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his scrutiny. Quickly, you averted your gaze, feeling the tension in your shoulders from the uncomfortable position you had slept in.
Without a word, Seungcheol settled behind his desk, and you seized the opportunity to slip out of the office. The ache in your back served as a constant reminder of your less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements.
Heading to the nearest coffee shop, you hoped that a strong cup of coffee would help invigorate you and shake off the lingering exhaustion.
With the reports prepared the night before, you and Seungcheol led another meeting, this time with the financial team. You entered the conference room together, your demeanor professional despite the weariness that still clung to you from your sleepless night.
Seungcheol took his seat at the head of the table, and you sat beside him, ready to support him in any way you could. As the meeting progressed, you found yourself immersed in the discussion, your mind racing to keep up with the financial jargon being tossed around.
However, amidst the exchange of numbers and projections, you couldn't help but notice Seungcheol's occasional glances in your direction. Each time his eyes met yours, you detected a hint of scrutiny, causing you to wonder if he had noticed your exhaustion.
Desperately trying to maintain your focus, you clenched a pen in your hand, using it as a reminder to stay alert and engaged. But despite your efforts, you could feel your energy waning with each passing minute.
As the meeting dragged on, you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Your eyelids feels heavy, and you struggle to keep your thoughts coherent. All you wanted was for the meeting to finish so you could finally rest and recharge.
As the meeting drew to a close and the team members began to file out of the conference room, Seungcheol rose from his seat, gathering some papers from the table. You followed suit, clutching onto the edge of the desk for support as you struggled to maintain your balance.
Seungcheol noticed your unsteady demeanor and furrowed his brow in concern. "Y/N, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper. But even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow and unconvincing, the effort only served to make your head spin even more.
But as Seungcheol's voice grew louder and more alarmed, it felt as though his words were merely echoing around your head, distant and muffled, you realized just how drained you truly were. The room seemed to spin around you, and you struggled to maintain your balance.
The last thing you saw before darkness enveloped you was Seungcheol's panicked expression as he rushed forward, his arms outstretched to catch you before you hit the ground.
He shaked you as his figure blurred and distorted as your vision faded, and then everything went black, the sound of rushing blood pounding in your ears.
Slowly, consciousness began to seep back into your mind, accompanied by the soft murmur of voices and the gentle beeping of medical equipment. Blinking groggily, you struggled to make sense of your surroundings.
As your vision cleared, you realized you were in the nursery, surrounded by the sterile white walls and the comforting hum of medical machinery. And by your side, sitting in a chair with his head bowed, was Seungcheol.
His presence brought a sense of calm to the room, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude toward him. Despite the strain of his new responsibilities, he had stayed by your side, ensuring that you were taken care of.
You tried to speak, but your throat felt dry and scratchy. Seungcheol must have sensed your movement, because he looked up, his eyes widening in relief as he saw you awake.
You tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over you, forcing you back against the pillows. Seungcheol placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, urging you to rest.
"You collapsed during the meeting," he explained, his voice filled with worry. "They brought you here to rest. The doctors said it was exhaustion."
"Exhaustion? I-" you began, but before you could finish your sentence, Seungcheol cut in, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.
"I saw on the cameras that you slept at your desk," he stated matter-of-factly, his tone tinged with concern. "I noticed becqause you're still wearing the same clothes," Seungcheol added, his tone gentle but firm.
You felt your cheeks burn even hotter at his observation, wishing you could disappear into the floor. The thought of him noticing you using the same clothes from the previous day filled you with mortification, and you struggled to find the right words to respond.
"I... I didn't have time to change," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of exhaustion and embarrassment settled heavily on your shoulders, and you couldn't bring yourself to meet Seungcheol's eyes.
"You need to take better care of yourself, Y/N," he said softly, his concern evident in his eyes. "I saw you working for my dad for years, and I know how demanding he could be."
You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat at the mention of Mr. Choi. Memories of late nights and early mornings spent tirelessly working flooded your mind, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for letting Seungcheol down.
"But I also know that you can't keep pushing yourself like this," Seungcheol continued, his voice filled with empathy. "You're human, Y/N, and you have limits."
Seungcheol's gaze softened as he looked at you, concern etched into his features. "Y/N, do you remember the last time you took time off?" he asked gently, his voice filled with genuine worry.
You hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt as you realized that you couldn't recall the last time you had taken a break. "Um... I'm not sure," you admitted quietly, your gaze dropping to the floor.
Seungcheol glanced at his watch, his expression thoughtful. "Well, you don't need to work for the rest of the week," he declared, his tone firm yet compassionate.
Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden announcement, your mind racing to comprehend what he had just said. "But there are still conferences," you protested weakly, rising from the bed with shaky legs.
Seungcheol shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with determination. "I'll handle the conferences," he insisted, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You need to rest, Y/N. That's an order."
You opened your mouth to protest further, but the exhaustion that weighed heavily on your shoulders silenced you. With a sigh, you nodded in reluctant acceptance, realizing that perhaps Seungcheol was right—you did need to take care of yourself.
Despite having time off, your body remained accustomed to waking up at the same early hour as your workdays, thanks to the relentless consistency of your alarm. Each morning, you would groggily switch off the alarm, only to fall back into the comforting embrace of sleep for a few more precious hours.
But something changed during these days off. Just as you used to bring coffee for your boss, you found yourself receiving a basket of breakfast at your door every morning, each one bearing Seungcheol's unmistakable calligraphy. Instead of the usual croissants and coffee, the baskets were filled with a colorful array of fruits, a healthier alternative that he seemed to insist upon, instead of his dad.
"Fruits are way more healthy than croissants… - Seungcheol."
[...]
Your phone rang unexpectedly in the early morning hours of your last day off, jolting you awake from a peaceful slumber. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you answered the call, greeted by the voice of Joshua from the Human Resources Department.
"Hello?" you murmured, still groggy from sleep.
"Hi, Y/N," Joshua replied, his voice hushed as though sharing a secret. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
You shook your head, sitting up in bed and giving your full attention to the call. "No, it's fine. What's up, Joshua?"
"I just wanted to let you know," Joshua continued, his tone serious yet tinged with amusement, "Seungcheol asked all the departments to give you some space and let you rest during your time off."
You felt a surge of gratitude towards Seungcheol for his thoughtfulness, but your gratitude was short-lived as Joshua's next words caught you off guard.
"However," Joshua added, a hint of mischief evident in his voice, "he's struggling a bit with managing everything himself. I caught him pacing back and forth in his office for the past few minutes."
You couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of Seungcheol pacing anxiously in his office. "I'll take care of it," you assured Joshua, determination seeping into your voice.
"Great," Joshua replied with a laugh. "I'll leave you to it then. Enjoy the rest of your day off, Y/N."
As you confidently strode into the building, the weight of the archives in your hand felt oddly reassuring. Despite the lingering fatigue from your days off, you felt a renewed sense of determination as you navigated the familiar halls in your high heels.
The glances from your coworkers didn't go unnoticed, their surprise at seeing you back at work evident in their expressions. You could almost hear the unspoken question hanging in the air—shouldn't you be at home resting?
Lost in his thoughts, Seungcheol snapped out of his trance as he caught sight of you through the glass walls that separated his office. His eyes widened at the unexpected sight of you, and you offered him a small bow as you approached.
Pushing open the door, you entered his office, the determined set of your shoulders belying any trace of uncertainty. Seungcheol watched you with a mixture of surprise and concern, his normally impeccable hair tousled and his lips worryingly bitten.
"You shouldn't be here," he stated, his voice tinged with worry as he took in your appearance.
You simply smiled in response, pressing the archives into his chest with a sense of purpose. "We have work to do," you replied firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "Do you want my help or not?"
Seungcheol's lips parted slightly, his cheeks flushing with a hint of embarrassment as he processed your words. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded shyly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and relief.
As Seungcheol sat alone in the dimly lit office, surrounded by the quiet emptiness of the building, a sense of clarity washed over him. He had been so determined to prove himself capable, to show his dad—and you—that he could handle the responsibilities of running the company on his own. But as the days passed and the chaos of the company threatened to overwhelm him, he found himself feeling lost and unsure.
Now, as he looked around at the neatly organized piles of contracts, the meticulously scheduled meetings, and the completed spreadsheets on the computer screen, he finally understood why his dad had always relied on you so heavily. Despite your youth, you possessed a rare combination of competence, efficiency, and dedication that made you indispensable to the smooth operation of the company.
Seungcheol couldn't tear his eyes away from you as he watched from the other side of the table. The soft glow of the computer screen illuminated your face, casting shadows that danced across your features as you worked diligently.
Your unbuttoned white shirt and raised sleeves hinted at the long hours you had put in, while your hair, now gathered in a messy bun, spoke volumes about the intensity of your focus. Despite the exhaustion that lingered in the lines of your face, there was a determined set to your jaw, a resilience that shone through even in the late hours of the night.
Seungcheol marveled at the sight of your manicured nails flying across the keyboard with practiced precision, effortlessly organizing the digital archives with a speed that left him in awe.
Seungcheol let out an exasperated sigh, his frustration evident as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of guilt and admiration. "I feel terrible," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "You shouldn't have had to resolve all of these problems. I took you away from your day off, and now you're stuck here dealing with all of this mess."
You couldn't help but smile at the poor boy, his sulky expression only serving to make him appear more endearing. "Hey, it's okay," you reassured him, your tone gentle as you reached across the table to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm already feeling better, thanks to you."
Seungcheol's expression softened at your words, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "I just wish I could have handled things better," he confessed, his voice tinged with self-doubt.
You shook your head, dismissing his concerns with a playful grin. "Well, you did leave fruits at my door," you teased, unable to resist poking fun at his earlier gesture of kindness. "So I'd say you're doing just fine."
Seungcheol couldn't help but let out a chuckle, his usual professional demeanor momentarily slipping as he made a lighthearted comment about your near fall earlier in the day. "Man, you were this close to eating floor," he quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
You gasped in mock indignation, caught off guard by his informal tone. "Seungcheol!" you exclaimed, your hand flying to your chest in exaggerated shock. "I can't believe you just said that!"
But despite your feigned outrage, you couldn't suppress the laughter bubbling up inside you.
Seungcheol's laughter filled the air as he apologized, his voice laced with amusement. "Sorry, sorry," he repeated, his grin widening as he realized the playful banter between you.
You couldn't help but mock offense at his apology, feigning exaggerated indignation. "I'm deeply wounded," you joked, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you placed a hand dramatically over your heart. "How will I ever recover from such a grievous insult?"
Seungcheol laughed at your theatrics, the sound warm and genuine. "I'll make it up to you, I promise," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "How about dinner? My treat."
You raised an eyebrow in mock skepticism, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Hmm, I don't know," you teased, pretending to consider his offer. "I might need a more sincere apology than that."
But as you glanced at Seungcheol's earnest expression, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the prospect of spending more time together outside of work. With a grin, you relented, accepting his invitation with a playful wink. "Alright, dinner it is."
"Let's go," Seungcheol declared with a grin, his eyes alight with excitement.
You widened your eyes in surprise, a hint of disbelief creeping into your voice. "Tonight?" you echoed, unable to hide your astonishment.
Seungcheol nodded eagerly, his stomach rumbling audibly. "Yes, tonight," he confirmed, a playful smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm starving."
With a smile, you rose from your seat, placing the neatly organized archives on the side of his desk. "Alright then, let's go," you agreed, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.
As you made your way towards the exit of the empty, darkened building, you heard a surprised whistle from Seungcheol. You couldn't help but giggle at his reaction, turning to tease him playfully. "Afraid of ghosts, Seungcheol?" you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.
Seungcheol scoffed, his expression mockingly indignant. "Please, the building is sinister at night," he retorted, his tone tinged with exaggeration. "How could you possibly spend nights here?"
As you walked side by side with Seungcheol towards the parking lot, the darkness of the night enveloping the empty streets, you couldn't resist teasing him about his earlier comment about the building being sinister.
"It's scarier during the day with that bunch of people around," you quipped with a playful grin, nudging him lightly with your elbow.
Seungcheol chuckled at your remark, his laughter filling the quiet night air. "Was I one of those people that scared you?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.
You couldn't help but play along, feigning exaggerated fear as you imitated his walk with a comically exaggerated pout and furrowed eyebrows. "Oh, definitely," you replied with mock seriousness, your lips puckered into a pout. "You walk like this."
Seungcheol gasped dramatically, a hand flying to his chest in mock offense. "I'm hurt," he protested, his voice dripping with faux indignation. "I'm a friendly guy, you know."
As Seungcheol held the door of the car open for you, a small smile played at the corners of your lips as you settled into the seat. "You know, in the past, you were friendly with everyone but me," you remarked casually, fastening your seatbelt as he made his way around to the driver's seat. "It's surprising to see how gentle you're being right now."
Seungcheol chuckled at your observation, his laughter warm and genuine. "It wasn't always like this," he admitted as he started the car, the engine humming to life.
You scoffed lightly, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "Oh, please," you retorted, a playful glint in your eye. "I distinctly remember you going out of your way to avoid me at dinners in your house. You'd even skip dinner altogether because of me."
A smile tugged at the corners of Seungcheol's lips at your words, a hint of nostalgia coloring his expression as he navigated the quiet streets.
Seungcheol's voice was tinged with a hint of reluctance as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "I had my reasons," he murmured, a note of hesitation in his tone.
You raised an eyebrow in curiosity, turning to look at him expectantly. "And what might those reasons be?" you inquired, your tone playful yet genuinely curious.
But Seungcheol merely glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to the streets, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. "I'm not going to answer that," he replied firmly, his voice tinged with embarrassment.
You couldn't help but sulk at his refusal, crossing your arms over your chest in mock indignation. "Why not?" you pouted, unable to resist teasing him.
Seungcheol let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. "Because it's embarrassing," he admitted sheepishly, his cheeks flushing slightly at the admission.
You couldn't resist pressing further, a playful glint in your eye as you leaned in closer. "Come on, Seungcheol, you can't leave me hanging like this," you teased, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "I promise I won't laugh."
Seungcheol let out a soft sigh, his expression a mix of embarrassment and reluctance. "Fine," he relented, his cheeks still tinged with a faint blush. "But you have to promise not to make fun of me."
You nodded eagerly, your curiosity piqued. "I promise," you replied earnestly, your eyes wide with anticipation.
"The truth is..." Seungcheol began, his voice hesitant as he glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to the road ahead. "I was secretly in love with your impeccable taste in office supplies."
You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his unexpected confession. For a moment, you were speechless, the weight of his words sinking in. But then you noticed the playful glint in his eyes, the mischievous curve of his lips, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.
"Come on, Seungcheol," you scoffed, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Tell me the real reason."
But Seungcheol merely chuckled, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he feigned pain at your weak slaps on his shoulder. "Ouch, that hurts," he teased, his laughter filling the car.
Seungcheol's voice was hesitant as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "My dad would kill me if he heard me saying this, but..." he trailed off, his words hanging in the air.
Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to him, curiosity and surprise written across your face. "But what?" you prompted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Seungcheol took a deep breath, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "At the time, I had a crush on you," he confessed, his admission hanging in the air between you.
You felt your breath catch in your throat, your mind racing as you processed his words. You stayed silent, unable to form a coherent response as a rush of emotions washed over you.
After a moment of tense silence, Seungcheol continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "And... I was jealous of you with my dad," he admitted.
A wheeze of laughter escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, trying to suppress the sudden burst of amusement. But it was too late—once the laughter started, it was impossible to hold back.
Seungcheol looked at you, a mixture of confusion and embarrassment crossing his features as he watched you dissolve into laughter. He bit his lip, trying to suppress a laugh of his own, but soon he couldn't hold it in any longer.
Seungcheol's voice carried a hint of mock indignation as he spoke. "You're laughing at my feelings?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
You tried to stifle your laughter, shaking your head as tears of mirth streamed down your cheeks. "No, no," you managed to gasp out between giggles, "but... me? Your dad?" The absurdity of the situation struck you, and you dissolved into laughter once again, your body shaking with the force of it.
Seungcheol couldn't help but join in, his own laughter mingling with yours as he glanced at you with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice tinged with laughter, "maybe it does sound a little ridiculous when you say it like that."
As the laughter subsided, you wiped away tears of mirth and leaned against the window, still chuckling softly to yourself.
You asked with a playful smile, your curiosity piqued. "Why me, Seungcheol?"
Seungcheol let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he glanced at you. "Well, think about it," he began, his tone lighthearted. "My dad spent every day with you, but I only saw you on special occasions. And every time I tried to catch your attention, you were busy with something with my dad." He chuckled again, a hint of amusement in his voice.
You couldn't help but laugh along with him, playfully shaking his shoulder. "Oh, so I didn't catch your charms at that time?" you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.
Seungcheol grinned, his gaze meeting yours. "I guess not," he replied with a shrug, his tone teasing yet fond.
You couldn't resist teasing Seungcheol a little more, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "And your charm was ignoring me when you saw me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
Seungcheol let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Okay, maybe I was a little nervous," he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly.
You laughed at his confession, enjoying the playful banter between you. "Was I really that intimidating?" you asked, feigning surprise.
Seungcheol nodded emphatically, his eyebrows raised in mock seriousness. "Definitely," he replied, his tone laced with amusement.
He continued, "I mean, we're the same age, but every time I saw you at dinner, you came looking like a lawyer ready to win a case."
You couldn't help but be curious. "And why didn't you tell me?" you asked, your tone gentle yet inquisitive.
Seungcheol paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Honestly, before, I didn't really know how to tell you," he confessed, "I wasn't exactly experienced in... well, talking to girls, let alone asking them out on dates."
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his admission. "And now?" you pressed, a playful smile playing on your lips.
Seungcheol turned to you, a warm smile gracing his features, as the car pulled up to the restaurant, Seungcheol got out and hurried around to open the door for you, gesturing for you to step out. "Well, I'd like to think I've gotten a little better at it," he replied, his tone light.
You chuckled softly, stepping out of the car and allowing him to guide you towards the entrance of the restaurant. "I'd say you've definitely improved," you remarked, a teasing glint in your eye.
Seungcheol chuckled, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "The old Seungcheol would be freaking out right now if he knew he is now taking you to dinner," he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.
As you settled into your seats at the restaurant, the ambiance around you buzzing with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and anticipation. Seungcheol sat across from you, a playful smile dancing on his lips as he perused the menu.
"So, Seungcheol," you began, your voice laced with mischief, "tell me about your crush on me when you were just a boy."
Seungcheol's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. "Well," he began, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "let's just say, my crush on you hasn't exactly faded over the years."
You couldn't help but laugh at his bold confession, the unexpectedness of his words catching you off guard. "Oh, really?" you replied, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "And here I thought you were just taking me out to dinner as a friendly gesture."
You drink a sip of wine, "Imagine if your dad finds out about this little dinner date, Mr. Choi Seungcheol…"
Seungcheol's smirk widened at your response, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "And if he finds out?" he teased, his tone light yet filled with confidence.
You raised your chin slightly, meeting his gaze with a knowing look. "Well, Seungcheol," you replied, your voice steady, "it's not exactly ethical for a boss to take his employees on dates."
Seungcheol's smirk only grew, his confidence unwavering as he leaned forward slightly. "I think I can decide what's ethical while I'm in charge," he countered, his tone playful yet determined. "And besides, what harm could it do after your shift?"
You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in playful skepticism at Seungcheol's suggestion. "Is it normal to take female employees on dates?" you asked, your tone teasing yet curious. "I'm sure the other girls would be interested to know."
Seungcheol's gaze softened as he met your eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I can't speak for anyone else," he replied, his voice low and sincere, "but I only have eyes for one woman in this company."
You couldn't deny the flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension as Seungcheol's gaze locked with yours, his smile causing your heart to race. "Seungcheol..." you began, your voice trailing off as you searched for the right words.
Seungcheol's smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned forward slightly. "Yes?" he prompted, his voice low and filled with anticipation.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you met his gaze with determination. "I have to admit," you started, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, "it's not exactly the most conventional situation, considering you're the son of my boss."
Seungcheol's smile remained, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, technically, I am your boss," he teased, his tone light yet filled with confidence.
You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "Is that supposed to sound better?" you retorted, a hint of amusement in your voice.
Seungcheol chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair as he met your gaze with a knowing look. "With that title," he replied, his voice laced with playful arrogance, "I can bend the rules a little."
You held your breath for a moment, nodding in acknowledgment of Seungcheol's words. But as you met his gaze once more, a determined look in your eyes, you couldn't help but shake your head slightly.
"You won't win me over that easily," you declared, your voice firm yet tinged with a hint of playfulness.
Seungcheol's smile faltered slightly, a spark of challenge igniting in his eyes as he leaned forward once more. "Challenge accepted," he replied, his voice low and filled with determination.
You couldn't help but smirk as you leaned back in your chair, your gaze locked with Seungcheol's. There was a glint of mischief in your eyes as you watched his reaction.
Seungcheol's breath caught in his throat, his expression shifting from playful to slightly flustered. "Damn, don't look at me like that," he muttered under his breath, his cheeks flushing slightly.
You couldn't suppress a laugh at his reaction, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the way you were able to tease him. "Like what?" you teased, your voice laced with amusement.
Seungcheol shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Like you know exactly what you're doing," he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and admiration
You couldn't resist the urge to playfully tease Seungcheol, so you tilted your head and fixed him with an intense gaze. "Like this?" you asked, your voice soft but tinged with amusement.
Seungcheol's breath hitched slightly, his feet shifting nervously under the table as he looked away from you, unable to meet your gaze. You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the effect you were having on him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you watched his reaction.
Seungcheol let out a slow exhale, his eyes flickering back to meet yours briefly before darting away again. "Yeah, like that," he mumbled, his voice slightly strained.
You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his response, enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. "Good to know I still have that effect on you," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes playfully, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, yeah, don't get too cocky now," he replied, his tone light but filled with warmth.
As the dinner drew to a close and both of you felt the weariness of the day settling in, Seungcheol pulled up in front of your apartment building. You exchanged a few final words, the playful banter still lingering between you as you prepared to part ways.
With a smirk, you couldn't resist teasing Seungcheol one last time before you left. "Well, thanks for the dinner, boss," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mischief.
Seungcheol chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "Anytime, secretary," he replied, his tone teasing yet filled with warmth.
Before you stepped out of the car, you leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Seungcheol's cheek, a gesture of gratitude. "Goodnight, Seungcheol," you said with a smile, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.
"Goodnight, Y/N," Seungcheol replied, his voice soft as he returned your smile.
With one final wave, you stepped out of the car and watched as Seungcheol drove off into the night. – Giggling like a little girl.
You lay in your bed, the soft sheets providing a feeling of comfort after a long day. Your mind starts to wonder as you take in the moment of silence. That is, until your cellphone interrupts your thoughts with notifications from Seungcheol.
You glanced down at your phone and couldn't suppress a smile when you saw Seungcheol's message. It read, "Since you're such a busy woman, I thought I'd save you the trouble and make plans for Saturday. I'll pick you up in the morning and we'll spend the day at the summer house."
With a playful glint in your eye, you quickly replied, "Just like your dad to invite me to the summer house, huh?"
A moment later, Seungcheol's response came through. "Yes, but this time, you'll go," he wrote, his tone confident yet filled with warmth.
You couldn't resist teasing him a bit more. "Who guarantees that?" you typed quickly, a smirk playing on your lips as you sent the message.
A moment later, your phone buzzed with Seungcheol's response. "I do," he replied confidently. "And if that's not enough, I can promise you good food, great company, and a beautiful view. What more could you want?"
You chuckled softly, appreciating his playful persistence. "Alright, you win. I'll be ready," you responded, feeling a flutter of excitement for the upcoming weekend.
"Great! Looking forward to it," Seungcheol replied with a smiley face emoji.
Just as he promised, Seungcheol stopped in front of your apartment in the morning. You stepped out of the building, the bright sun shining down, and made your way to his car. You were wearing sunglasses and a sundress, a look quite different from the usual office attire Seungcheol was accustomed to seeing you in.
As you slid into the passenger seat, Seungcheol gave you an appreciative once-over and grinned. "Well, look at you," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I almost didn't recognize you without the high heels and power suit."
You laughed, adjusting your sunglasses. "Surprised, huh? I do have a life outside the office, you know."
He chuckled as he started the car. "I must say, I like this version of you." Seungcheol glanced over at you, a playful smirk on his lips. "Finally, I thought you would never get to see our summer house," he teased.
You chuckled, adjusting your sunglasses. "Well, your dad always invited me on weekends to spend the day with you and your brother. I guess I just never took him up on the offer."
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Really? My dad wanted you to spend time with us?"
"Yeah," you nodded, smiling at the memory. "He would always insist, but I didn't want to intrude on your family time."
Seungcheol shook his head, laughing softly. "You wouldn't have been intruding. My dad probably wanted you there to keep me and my brother in line."
You chuckled at Seungcheol's playful response, shaking your head in amusement. "Of course, you were terrible. I needed to choose my peace," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.
Seungcheol laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No way, my dad told you about all the things we've done?" he exclaimed, sounding genuinely surprised.
You nodded with a smirk. "Yeah, I saved you two from a lot of mess already. I needed to remind your dad to take you two off punishment more than once."
Seungcheol's lips curled into a mischievous smile as he glanced at you. "Let me reward you then?" he suggested, his tone laced with teasing.
You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Bold move, Seungcheol," you teased, a playful smirk on your lips.
"I grew up, Noona," he proclaimed with the new nickname, his voice dripping with a flirtatious undertone. "I'm not that little boy anymore."
You smirked at his comment, intrigued to see where he was going with this. "Ooh, do go on, Seungcheol," you responded, your tone laced with playful curiosity. "What, pray tell, has changed since I last saw you?"
Seungcheol chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. His smile widened, revealing a glimpse of the boyish charm that still clung to him. "Well, I've grown a little taller, for starters," he admitted, a hint of bravado in his voice. "And I've gained some muscle too."
You couldn't help but playfully tease him further, a challenge in your eyes as your lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Grown taller, you say?" you retorted, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. "And gained some muscle? Aren't you just the pinnacle of maturity now?"
Seungcheol's eyes twinkled with amusement as he met your gaze, clearly enjoying the banter. "Oh, don't worry, Noona, I still have my charming ways," he teased, a flirtatious grin settling on his face.
As the conversation continued, Seungcheol's cheeks flushed slightly as he confessed, "The old me couldn't even bring himself to ask out his crush, much less invite her to the summer house to spend time together alone."
Your surprise was evident as you echoed, "Alone? Just the two of us?" A newfound realization dawned on you, and you couldn't help but wonder, "Is that why you invited me, Seungcheol?"
He flashed you a sheepish smile and nodded, his embarrassment adding a touch of charm to his confession.
Seungcheol's flushed cheeks and bashful demeanor confirmed the truth of his revelation. He chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I guess it is," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "I wanted some alone time with you, Noona."
"Alone in a romantic summer house?" you echoed, your voice tinged with a touch of tease. "Well, I suppose we could enjoy the scenic views, relax by the pool, and indulge in some good food and wine. But I have a feeling you had something specific in mind, Seungcheol. Care to enlighten me?"
Seungcheol's gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he caught your suggestive question. A subtle blush crept onto his cheeks, and he bit his lip shyly, clearly embarrassed by the direction the conversation was taking.
He chuckled nervously. "Oh, no, Noona, not that." He quickly added, "I just wanted to spend some quality time with you, you know? Talk, laugh, just have fun together."
"Well, if I wasn't worried about distracting the driver, I might say something even more suggestive," you teased, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.
Seungcheol flushed deeper, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly as he tried to focus on the road. "Noona, please," he pleaded, his voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "It's hard enough to concentrate as it is. Don't make it harder."
"You're not getting nervous, are you? Is the thought of being alone with me in a romantic summer house too much for you?"
"Hush, Noona," he said with a light-hearted scold, giving you a quick glance. "Can you not talk like that while I'm driving?" his voice slightly strained.
"Relax, Seungcheol," you teased leaning on your seat again. "It's just a little harmless fun. But if it's making you this flustered, I suppose I'll keep the dirty talk for later."
"Please do," he replied, his tone a mix of flustered and entertained. "Let's save the risqué topics for when we're not on the road, okay?"
You chuckled, finding his bashfulness endearing. "Alright, alright, I'll behave," you said, lifting your hands in mock surrender. "For now."
"I think the boldest one here is you, from what I see."
You grinned at his observation, a hint of mischief in your eyes. "Oh, you're just noticing that now, Seungcheol?" you teased. "I've always been the bolder one between the two of us. But don't worry, I'll try not to overwhelm you with my boldness."
"I have no doubts about that, Noona," he replied, a hint of anticipation in his voice. "Bring on the surprises later. I can handle it."
As you continued your playful banter with Seungcheol, you noticed a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. Years of harboring a secret crush on you, struggling to hide his true feelings, had taken a toll on him.
Deep down, he was tired of waiting, desperate to express the admiration he held for you. You wondered how much longer he could keep his feelings restrained, how much more pent-up emotion he could bear before they would inevitably burst forth.
As you stepped into the summer house, the pure air filling your lungs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. Turning to glance at Seungcheol, the reality of the situation finally hitting you - just the two of you. A soft smile curved your lips as you took in the peaceful atmosphere.
Seungcheol, too, seemed affected by the realization.
As you glanced around, your eyes fell upon the family portraits hanging on the wall. There was a charming photo of Seungcheol and his brother hugging their mother, another one capturing Mr. Choi tenderly kissing Mrs. Choi. Your gaze then moved to a playful shot of them both splashing water, and finally, a picture of Seungcheol himself. As you stood there admiring the memories, you felt a warm presence behind you.
With his arms crossed and a wide grin on his face, Seungcheol stood by your side, clearly amused by your initial reaction.
You couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle, finding Seungcheol's amused expression endearing. Turning to face him, you commented, "Looks like Mr. and Mrs. Choi couldn't keep their hands off each other."
Seungcheol laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling. "Yeah, they've always been like that," he replied. "They're not exactly shy about their affection for each other."
"Are you really this egotistical, displaying your own picture on the wall like this?"
Seungcheol chuckled, his smile widening as he playfully rolled his eyes at your teasing. "Oh please, Noona," he replied, "It's not my fault you're just now realizing how irresistibly handsome I am."
You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. "Alright, alright," you conceded, "You win this round, ego extraordinaire. But I must admit, you've always been quite handsome, even if it's a bit exaggerated." You smirked playfully.
Seungcheol grinned, basking in the compliment. "Aww, so you finally admit it, do you?" he teased, a cocky smile on his face.
As you playfully warned him not to get cocky, Seungcheol couldn't resist the temptation. He stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your waist. You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, his eyes intense and captivating.
However, you playfully resisted, pushing him away and throwing him a challenging glance. As you walked away, you gave him one last sultry look over your shoulder before disappearing into the next room.
Seungcheol stood there for a moment, dumbfounded by the unexpected turn of events. A combination of surprise and desire coursed through him as he tried to compose himself, his heart racing with a newfound intensity.
His eyes gleamed with a combination of desire and disappointment, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was clear that the game had only just begun.
The night had crept upon you, enveloping the summer house in a gentle embrace. As you sat on the balcony, sipping on a bottle of wine, you savored the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with Seungcheol. The soft glow of the moonlight cast a warm, enchanting ambiance, and the distant sound of the television from within the house provided a pleasant background melody. You found yourself lost in the moment, feeling completely… content in his company.
As you let the flavors of the wine wash over your palate, you paused for a moment, your thoughts wandering to your recent travels. A hint of nostalgia tinged your voice as you spoke. "You know," you began, "I can't recall the last time I took a trip that wasn't connected to work."
You took another sip of the wine before continuing, "It's nice to finally enjoy some freedom and forget about work-related responsibilities for a while."
You chuckled, swirling the wine in your glass, your eyes fixed on the liquid's dance. "Ah, yes," you responded with a wry smile. "Even if it is my... boss's house." you echoed his words, a hint of dry humor in your tone.
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Feeling a bit cheeky, are we?" he taunted, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Watch your words, or I might have to dock your pay later."
You laughed, playfully sticking out your tongue at his jest. "Oh, you wouldn't dare," you retorted, a smirk on your lips. "What would the company do without my fabulous work?"
Seungcheol's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, you've got me there," he conceded, raising a hand in mock surrender. "I guess I'll just have to find some other way to punish you for that sharp tongue of yours."
You smirked, taking another sip of your wine, and teasingly asked, "Oh, what are we talking about, indeed?" The question hung in the air, laced with a hint of provocation. You knew perfectly well what you were discussing, but you couldn't resist the urge to tease him further.
Seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head at your playfulness. He leaned back in his chair, a suggestive glint in his eyes. "You know exactly what we're talking about," he replied.
You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Do I now?" you said, a mischievous smile on your lips. "And what might that be, pray tell?"
Seungcheol saw through your act, his gaze locking onto yours with a mix of affection and amusement. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a sultry tone. "Oh, don't act all coy with me, Noona," he murmured, his eyes fixed on yours. "You know exactly what we've been dancing around."
You stared into Seungcheol's eyes, the intensity of his gaze setting your heart racing.
Seungcheol's voice dropped to a whisper, his words laced with seductive undertones. "We've been dancing around it all night, skirting around the subject..." he murmured, grazing his fingers lightly against yours.
"But enough games, Noona... You know exactly where this is heading."
As Seungcheol got up from his seat and moved behind you, his hands gently massaging your shoulders and neck, you closed your eyes, enjoying the soothing touch of his hands.
A soft moan escaped your lips, and you couldn't help but teasingly ask, "So sure of yourself, aren't you, Seungcheol? "But what makes you so sure I want this, too?"
"Ah, Noona, you're a difficult woman to read sometimes," he teased. "But the way you respond to my touch... I can feel the desire building in your body, just like mine."
Seungcheol chuckled, his fingers skillfully working the tension out of your shoulders. He knew exactly how to make you melt under his touch. "Oh, Noona," he drawled, his voice laced with certainty and amusement. "Your body betrays you. Your sighs, your reactions... I can feel the way you lean into my touch. You can try to hide it all you want, but deep down, you want this just as much as I do."
You felt your breath catch in your throat at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his voice sent a jolt of desire coursing through you. Your breath hitched in agreement to his perception, your body's response betraying your own longing.
Seungcheol's hands continued their ministrations, his touch growing bolder. "You can deny it if you want," he murmured, trailing gentle kisses along your neck, "But your body tells the truth, Noona."
As Seungcheol's lips gently traced along your neck, you found yourself melting under his touch, your defenses crumbling. But just as abruptly, you snapped out of the blissful haze, realizing the need to regain control over your emotions. You quickly stood up, breaking the intimate contact.
Seungcheol looked momentarily taken aback, you could see the flicker of confusion in his face, as he tried to understand the sudden change in your demeanor.
You caught a glimpse of his parted lips, still moist from their previous closeness against your skin.
"Noona..." he whispered, his voice laced with a mix of concern and longing. "Is everything alright? Did I... did I go too far?"
Your breath shuddered nervously, emotions swirling within you like a raging tempest. You held onto his hands. You look into his eyes, seeing the desperation and longing there. He seems ready to ask for all of you, but the sheer intensity of his gaze makes you hesitate.
"Seungcheol," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's not that I don't want this... your family, our work, the company... it's just–"
Before you can finish your sentence, Seungcheol silences you with a gentle finger on your lips. His smile widens, and with a reassuring expression, he shakes his head slightly. "Sshh," he whispers, his eyes filled with understanding. "I know what you're thinking, Noona. You're worried about everything that could happen. But right now, in this moment, all I want is to be close to you. Nothing else matters."
"Cheol–"
"You worry too much, Noona," he whispers gently, "Just let yourself feel what's between us."
"C'mere." As Seungcheol guides your steps towards the main bedroom, his warm presence enveloping you, he stands before you, gently lifting your chin. In that moment, his words resonate deeply, igniting a flame within you.
His gaze captures yours, his voice filled with desire and intent. "For once in your life, Noona," he whispers, his touch on your chin light. "Do exactly what you really want."
With a confident smile, Seungcheol leans closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "Or," he continues, his words carrying a hint of playfulness, "I will."
His proximity ignited a spark within you, evoking a sense of youthful freedom. Memories of missed opportunities and fleeting moments flood your mind. You bite your smile as you find yourself drawn to his infectious energy and the intoxicating vibe he exudes.
"I dare you," you murmur softly, your voice infused with anticipation. "Show me what you've got, Seungcheol."
As Seungcheol leaned in closer and claimed your lips in a passionate kiss, – a long awaited kiss – you could see the spark of excitement ignite in his eyes. His fingers tenderly brushed against the nape of your neck, while his other hand gripped your waist, scrunching the dress between his fingers.
Your bodies pressed close together, you could feel the fervent thudding of Seungcheol's heart against your chest, mirroring the desperate beats of your own heart. His tongue danced with yours, igniting sparks of desire with every caress. As you allowed your fingers to bury into the softness of his hair, you heard a low, needy moan escape his lips.
As Seungcheol laid you on the expansive bed, his fingers gently encircling your waist, while he held one of your thighs, you felt a rush of heat as he settled between your legs.
The bed felt plush and inviting, while the soft silk of the sheets caressed your skin. With a suggestive motion, he simulated a thrust, and a gasp of pleasure escaped your lips, mingling with the intoxicating friction between your bodies.
Seungcheol gently lifted your dress over your head, revealing your naked form. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes roamed over your exposed skin, and a whine escaped from deep within his chest. He buried his face into your neck, his voice ragged as he whispered.
"Have you been walking around like this all night, Noona? Wearing nothing underneath that dress this whole time?"
You chuckled, biting your bottom lip.
"Can it be possible, Noona..." "You cooked with me," Seungcheol whispered, his voice growing heated with each word, "went shopping at the vineyard, wore that enticing dress, and were completely naked under it the whol- fuck." He couldn't help but let out a playful moan against your neck. "You're driving me crazy, Noona."
As Seungcheol's hand continued its languid path across your body, tracing a languid trail along the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, and finally finding its destination between your thighs, he let out an appreciative hum of satisfaction. "Mmmm," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval.
He parts your thighs, his fingers slipping between your folds, teasing you with gentle, deliberate strokes. "You're already so wet," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "All this for me?" He slides a finger inside you, curling it just right, making you arch your back and moan.
"Cheol," you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as your body trembles under his touch.
He smirks, looking down at where his fingers are disappearing inside you. The wet sounds are so loud that they almost drown out your whimpers. "Look at how you take my fingers," he murmurs, his voice dripping with lust.
Your eyes follow his gaze, watching his fingers move in and out of you, slick with your arousal. The sight and the sound of it drive you wild, making you squirm and whimper even more. Seungcheol's thumb finds your clit, pressing and circling it in a way that makes you see stars.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his own arousal evident in his voice. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock."
You moan, feeling the pleasure build to an almost unbearable level. His fingers press deeper, and you clench around him, so tight that his fingers almost slide out of you with each pulse of your walls. Seungcheol bites his lip, trying to maintain his composure, but it's not working.
Without warning, he slides down the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He devours your pussy with a hunger that makes you scream, your body flinching on the bed from the overwhelming sensation. His tongue flicks and swirls around your clit, and he drinks you in, savoring every drop of your arousal.
"Cheol, oh my god!" you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, fingers gripping tightly.
He holds you still, his strong hands pressing down on your hips as you writhe beneath him. The combination of his tongue and fingers is driving you wild, and you can feel the orgasm building rapidly. He slides one hand up your body, finding your nipple and rolling the bud between his fingers, making you burn in pleasure.
"You're so perfect," he murmurs against your folds, his voice vibrating through you. "So fucking sweet."
Your moans grow louder, the sensations overwhelming your senses. Seungcheol's tongue moves with expert precision, and when he adds another finger inside you, curling them too, you can't hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, and you scream his name, your body convulsing with pleasure.
Seungcheol doesn't stop, his mouth and fingers working you through your climax, extending it until you're a quivering, whimpering mess beneath him. Only when you're completely spent does he finally pull back, looking up at you with a satisfied smile. His lips glisten with your arousal, and his eyes are dark with desire.
"That's my good girl," he praises, sliding back up your body to kiss you deeply. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only makes you want him more. "Now, let's see how tight you are around my cock."
Seungcheol starts to strip, his eyes never leaving yours as he reveals his toned, muscular body. You wait, watching him with the 'fuck me' eyes. As he finally removes the last piece of clothing, you seize the moment.
With a swift, confident movement, you grab him and push him back onto the bed. He falls back, his eyes widening in surprise and excitement. You straddle his naked body, your own arousal evident as you press your pussy against him. His hands slide to your hips, gripping you tightly.
He looks up at you, a devilish smile playing on his lips. "Fuck, I'm in trouble," he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration. "You're going to be the death of me."
You smirk, leaning down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your bodies aligning perfectly. "Then let's make it worth it," you whisper against his mouth, feeling his cock harden beneath you.
You grab Seungcheol's cock, aligning it with your wet, eager pussy. As you slide down onto him, you feel the delicious stretch, and your head falls back, mouth slack with pleasure. Seungcheol bites his lip, almost tasting blood, his mind racing with random thoughts to avoid cumming too soon.
"Fuck," he moans, his voice strained as his eyebrows furrow in concentration. You bottom out, and the sensation is overwhelming. Seungcheol's hands grip your hips tightly, his eyes dark with desire as he tries to keep his composure. The feeling of your tightness around him is almost too much to bear, but he holds on, savoring every moment.
"Too much already?" you purred. "We've barely begun, Seungcheol," you whispered, your breath catching as your core quivered against his tantalizing touch.
As you raised your hips slightly, allowing yourself to sink back down onto Seungcheol, he let out a trembling breath, his eyes closing as his jaw went slack with pleasure. Despite his valiant attempt at forming a response, all that escaped his lips was a strained "Noona" as his body trembled beneath you.
You start to ride him, bouncing up and down, your juices splashing at the base of his cock. Each time you sink down, Seungcheol's body shudders, moving in rhythm with you. His hands grip your hips, trying to guide your movements but mostly just holding on for dear life.
"Fuck, Y/N" Seungcheol groans again, his voice filled with raw need. His eyes are glued to where your bodies join, watching as you take him in over and over. "You're so fucking perfect," he mutters, barely able to keep his composure as your tightness drives him wild. The sensation is almost too much, but he holds on, wanting to prolong this intense pleasure for as long as he can.
To give your legs a rest, you start to circle your hips, grinding on him, feeling the tip of his cock hitting your G-spot perfectly. Seungcheol's hands slide up your body, one settling on your breast, squeezing gently, while the other grips your waist, guiding your movements.
"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his eyes rolling back at the sensation. "You feel so fucking good." His voice is husky, filled with desperation as he tries to hold on. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in circles to match the rhythm of your hips.
You moan loudly, your head falling back as the pleasure builds even more intensely. "Cheol," you gasp, "I can't hold it much longer." Your body trembles, every nerve ending on fire.
"Don't hold back, baby," he urges, his voice strained but filled with encouragement. "Let go for me. Cum all over my cock."
You hold a little longer to ask him, "How does it feel, Seungcheol," you whisper, "to finally have the woman you've had a longstanding crush on, sitting on you like this?"
Seungcheol stutters, his breath hitching as he feels your walls clenching and unclenching purposely around him. "F-fuck, Noona," he groans, his voice shaky and full of raw need. "It's... it's everything I ever dreamed of and more."
You smirk, enjoying the power you have over him. "Is that so?" you tease, grinding your hips in slow, deliberate circles. "I never knew you had such dirty fantasies about me."
He bites his lip, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "You have no idea," he admits, his voice low and strained. "I’ve wanted you for so long. Seeing you like this... feeling you like this... it’s driving me insane."
You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. "Good," you whisper, clenching around him again. "I want you to remember this feeling, Seungcheol. Every time you look at me, I want you to remember how it feels to be inside me."
He shudders, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips. "I won't forget," he promises, his hands moving up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "I'll never forget this, Noona."
You lean down further, your breath hot against his ear. "Seungcheol," you whisper, your voice sultry and teasing, "I can feel how close you are. Do you want to cum inside me? Do you want to fill me up with everything you've got?"
His eyes widen, and he lets out a strangled moan, his hips bucking up involuntarily. "Fuck, Noona, you're gonna make me—"
You cut him off with a sharp thrust, feeling his cock throb inside you. "Tell me how good it feels," you demand, your own voice trembling with need. "Tell me how much you love fucking me."
"It feels so fucking good," he gasps, his fingers digging into your hips. "I love it, Noona. I love fucking you so much. You're so tight, so wet, I can't hold on—"
You can feel your own orgasm building, spurred on by his desperate words and the intensity of his gaze. "That's it, baby," you purr, riding him harder. "Cum for me, Seungcheol. Fill me up. I want to feel you explode inside me."
His eyes roll back, and he grips you even tighter. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'm cumming—"
"Fu-... ahh,"
As Seungcheol's release fills you to the brim, you feel a warm, liquid sensation spreading inside you, overflowing with his essence. He holds you close, pressing your bodies together as if to recompose the bond between you.
Just as you're catching your breath and basking in the afterglow, Seungcheol suddenly flips you over onto the bed with a determined look in his eyes. His hands roam over your body, trailing fire wherever they touch, and you can feel the familiar ache building within you once again.
"I need to make you cum again Noona." "Now, let me take care of you."
With a sudden burst of energy, Seungcheol flips you over onto your stomach, his hands roaming eagerly over your body as he prepares to make you cum all over again.
Seungcheol's cock enters you deep and sloppy, the abundance of lubrication spilling out around him. You scream into the sheets as he presses your head down onto the bed, his movements becoming more assertive as he thrusts into you with purpose.
Your breath grew sharper with every thrust, each one pushing you closer to the precipice.
"I've imagined this moment... countless times," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Having you like this... under me, writhing and gasping."
"So… Ah! Nasty, Seungcheol!"
Seungcheol couldn't help but chuckle at your teasing remark, his eyes filled with both affection and desire. As he continued to drive into you, he replied with a playful smack on the ample flesh of your ass.
"You have no idea," he murmured.
As you felt the wave of pleasure wash over you, your vision temporarily white in the overwhelming sensations, Seungcheol couldn't help but whine in response to his own heightened sensitivity.
He wanted to please you, to bring you to climax, but the overwhelming experience only made him more reactive to your every move and sound.
The intensity of your climax began to subside, your body finally melting into the sheets, Seungcheol stumbled off the bed, his legs trembling from the intense sex.
He made his way to the bathroom, seeking out some wipes to gently clean you up, his own breaths still ragged and unsteady.
As Seungcheol returned with the wipes, he found you lying there, chest heaving and breath labored. He crawled back into bed next to you, gently beginning to clean you up, his touch tender and caring.
"You alright there, Noona?" he asked, a hint of concern mingling with his breathless voice. "I didn't... hurt you, did I?"
You reached out, gently running your fingers through Seungcheol's messed hair, a weary yet satisfied smile playing on your lips.
"I'm okay, baby…" you whispered, your voice filled with contentment.
As Seungcheol continued his gentle ministrations, cleaning you up with the wipes, he couldn't help but bite back a smile at your choice of words.
"Baby?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Is that what you're calling me now?" Despite the teasing tone, there was a warmth in his eyes that betrayed his affection
"You're such a big baby Seungcheol…"
In response to your lighthearted comment, Seungcheol couldn't help but chuckle. He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before responding.
"Well, I am big, you're not wrong about that," he replied, a mischievous grin on his face. "But I guess 'big baby' suits me just fine, especially if it's coming from you."
As Seungcheol finished cleaning you up, he tossed the wipes aside and draped an arm around your middle, pulling you closer. He leaned in, peppering soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, his touch gentle.
"And your image," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "riding me like that... it's something I'll never forget. It's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen."
"Did you like it?" You ask him, giving a glance over your shoulder.
Seungcheol furrowed his brows, giving you a slightly exasperated look, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Noona, that was a rhetorical question, right?" he teased, a hint of affectionate amusement in his voice. "Of course I liked it."
[...]
In the soft morning light, sunlight trickled into the room, and you woke to the gentle sensation of Seungcheol's fingers running through your hair. As your eyes slowly opened, you found him already dressed, looking striking in the warm glow.
"Noona," he whispered, his gaze tender and filled with affection. "My parents... they're here."
Hearing this, you instantly sat upright in bed, your eyes widening in shock and surprise.
The realization that Seungcheol's parents had arrived hit you like a bolt of lightning. You hastily stumbled out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom, leaving him chuckling at your flustered state.
You quickly emerged from the bathroom, your hair still damp and clinging to your skin, a bath towel wrapped tightly around your body. You found Seungcheol lounging on the bed, casually scrolling through his phone.
"Cheol," you began with a slight scowl, "why didn't you tell me your parents arrived earlier? I could've prepared myself better!"
Seungcheol shrugged apologetically, a hint of sheepishness in his expression. "Honestly, Noona, I had no idea they were coming either," he admitted, offering a sincere smile. "They didn't give a heads up, and I couldn't warn you beforehand."
You let out a sigh, the lingering worry evident on your face. "It's not just about that," you murmured, "What will they think of me... sleeping with you… their son, my boss?"
"Noona, my parents aren't like that," he assured you, gently squeezing your hand. "They won't judge you based on your relationship to me or your job. They'll see the person you are, and that's all that matters."
He chuckled softly, attempting to lighten the mood. "Besides, I'm pretty sure they already love you just because you're so good at bossing me around."
You playfully gave Seungcheol's shoulder a gentle slap, your worries momentarily replaced by a smile. As you both left the bedroom, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, guiding you towards the living room.
You had worked closely with Seungcheol's father for years, and the thought of them knowing about your intimate relationship was nerve-wracking. Yet, Seungcheol's calming presence beside you helped ease your nerves.
Mr. Choi regarded you with a warm and teasing smile as you bowed in greeting. "Ah, there she is!" he exclaimed with feigned, feigned, disappointment. "The famous Y/N who refuses my invitations to the summerhouse. But with my son, suddenly she finds the time."
Mrs. Choi chuckled softly at her husband's jest, her eyes filled with warmth.
You felt a warmth spread across your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and affection. "I'm truly sorry, Mr. Choi," you apologized, your voice soft. "It's just... Seungcheol has a way of convincing me."
Mr. Choi's eyes gleamed with an affectionate pride as he spoke. "When Seungcheol was younger," he began, gesturing with his hands, "he used to come to me, curious about you. He would ask, 'Father, do you think Noona could be interested in someone like me?'"
His voice was tinged with amusement as he continued, "I always told him, 'Son, Y/N is quite the catch. You just need to be patient, and show her your true self.' And look where we are now."
"'How is Noona today?' 'What's Noona doing?' 'When is Noona coming to visit?'" His mom continues.
Seungcheol's face flushed a deeper shade of red, and he hurriedly covered his face with his hands, visibly embarrassed by his father's words. You seized the opportunity to add to the teasing, a playful grin on your face.
"Oh, Cheollie," you teased, "So it's true, you were quite smitten with me even back then. How utterly endearing."
#seventeen reactions#seventeen headcanons#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#svt smut#seventeen#seventeen fluff#svt imagines#seventeen fanfic#svt fanfic#svt x reader#seungcheol smut#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol fanfic#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol x you#seungcheol#scoups smut#scoups x reader#scoups x you#scoups x y/n#choi seungcheol#seventeen seungcheol#seungcheol fluff#scoups#choi seungcheol fluff#choi seungcheol imagines
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hi pooks,, can we talk about how much cheol LOVES when u ride him? im talking head thrown back, eyes locking with yours, hands caressing your body, his hair would be so messy from how he's been touching it and he'd me muttering praises like ?!?!?!?!
GOD i could talk about this all day
one thing about seungcheol is that he is a body worshipper, he finds every single thing about your frame so utterly beautiful. and the best way to exhibit it is when you're on top of him taking his cock, the way your plush thighs are sat against his lap, watching as your pretty cunt takes in all of him. the sight of your chest out in display for him to play with, whether it be wrapping his hand around your boob or flattening his tongue against it. he loves engulfing his mouth full of your tits, moaning at the feeling of your skin in his mouth. his hands are roaming every single aspect of you, cupping your ass with his big hands and sometimes giving it an encouraging little ass slap with a sly grin. or caressing your waist, loving the way your back dips down to the shape of your ass.
“you take it so well, princess.” he'd call you, his lips tugging up into a grin. seungcheol's eyes would be so enamored and full of desire, watching his favorite girl in front of him in complete pleasure. he loves watching you take the reins, the way you're so determined to make him and yourself cum from this position. his hands find itself in your hair to push you down into a sloppy, heated kiss. loves whenever you moan into the kiss and bounce onto his cock. “gonna make daddy feel good, right?” and when you nod along to his words, feeling so aroused by everything. he'd respond, “you always do, my love.”
#*hh#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen smut#svt#svt imagines#svt smut#choi seungcheol imagines#choi seungcheol smut#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol smut#scoups imagines#scoups smut
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seungcheol being so, so pissed at a staff after he saw them mistreating joshua. he's actually ready to throw hands, spitting words at everyone, ears all red. jeonghan has a hand on his chest when you arrive, trying to calm down his leader.
"he won't listen to any of us", seungkwan tells you, clear despair all over his face. it's so easy for seungcheol to lose his temper when the well-being of one of his members is at stake.
you can hear jeonghan trying to make seungcheol stop, but he's nowhere near done running his mouth at the team that made joshua now sit at the corner, trying his best to smile and nod at whatever vernon and mingyu was telling him. "let him do it", woozi says, just as angry as seungcheol, shrugging when minghao shoots him a look. dokyeom joins jeonghan at trying to soothe seungcheol, but you know it's your time to intervene.
"hey, it's over", you tell him, standing in between him and whoever he was scolding. seungcheol acknowledges your presence, but he doesn't stop. "cheol, they get it, it's done. knock it off."
jeonghan leaves his friend's side with a sigh, instantly going to joshua to help his brother. so you take his space, your hand now on seungcheol's chest, but not just resting, actually pushing him back a little. he tries to say something else but- "i said knock it off, cheol, stop it!!".
it's only when he looks into your eyes, at the way you raise your eyebrows at him, that seungcheol drops his attitude, sitting back at a chair. "should we thank them?", dino murmurs to junhui, who just shushes the maknae so seungcheol won't listen.
but yeah, they should thank you.
#choi seungcheol headcanons#choi seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol imagines#choi seungcheol x you#scoups headcanons#scoups x reader#scoups imagines#scoups x you#seungcheol x you#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol headcanons#seungcheol imagines#seventeen headcanons#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen x you#svt headcanons#svt imagines#svt x reader#svt x you#seventeen#svt#choi seungcheol#scoups
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01:10am | choi seungcheol
SYNOPSIS. in which your cuddly boyfriend interrupts your late night reading time.
PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader
GENRE. fluff, established relationship
WARNINGS. a lil suggestive, reader is smaller than cheol, lil makeout kissing sesh oops, terms of endearment, cheol is whipped, self-indulgent fr
WORD COUNT. 1.1k
notes: i just have this thing for soft cuddly bed scenes w cheol :(
Seungcheol really doesn't know why that out of all other times of the day, you choose to read during the depths of the night.
But he's not at all complaining𑁋he's blessed with this grand view of you with your headphones on as you're sitting up against the frame of the bed behind, knees almost propped up to your chest, with a tiny, dim book light attached to the bridge of your book highlighting your face. Seungcheol thinks this might be one of his new favourite views of you.
He flips himself over to face your direction, opening an eye so he could quietly watch you. Seungcheol takes a moment to appreciate the cute, subtle details of your face when you're focused𑁋the way your eyelashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks, the steady rise and fall of your chest, and the way your lips occasionally move, silently forming the words you're reading. The only sounds in the room he can hear are the rustling of you turning the page, the distant murmur of the city outside, and the faint music escaping from your headphones.
Letting out a yawn, he takes a moment to check the time on his phone, eyes widening to see how late it was. Yet when he turns back to you, he only pauses, because you seem too immersed in the book to be able to go to sleep right now, and he really doesn't want to disturb you.
"Baby?" he calls out to you softly, yet you don't hear him as expected, only furrowing up a brow at what Seungcheol could assume was you reading a peculiar scene in your book. He feels his shoulders deflate.
Instead, with a huffed breath, he can only take to sinking back within the bedsheets and hoping that you'd fall asleep after him.
But he can't fall asleep, no matter how much tossing and turning he does, since it's almost outrageous to his mind to the thought of him falling asleep without at least holding you in his arms like he always does.
Seungcheol turns himself over once more, a pout at his lips as he scoots closer towards you, yet you still don't seem to notice him. He contemplates for a moment, glancing down at your free hand at your side, and a thought crosses his mind. Slowly, he grabs your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together, and the action is just so natural and instinctive like a missing puzzle piece fitting perfectly into place.
He glances at you, noticing the slight smile that tugs at the corners of your lips as you continue reading. It isn't until he starts drawing circles on your palm and picking at your sleeve that finally grabs your attention, and you pick your head up to look at him, slipping your headphones off.
You watch the way he continues playing with your hand𑁋from drawing shapes on it, tracing the creases on your palm, to running a finger over your knuckles𑁋like it's the most interesting thing in the world.
"Cheol, what are you doing?" You ask bemusedly, attempting to pull your hand away but he just tugs it back.
"Hmm, missing you," he coos softly, adjusting your hands so that your flat palms are touching each other. The fact that the size of your hand is perfectly smaller than his is utterly adorable. "Your hand is small, you know?"
You roll your eyes, as if annoyed. "And yours is huge. We've been over this already."
"It's cute." He locks your fingers together again, tilting his head slightly to look at you. "You're cute."
You only click your tongue, biting back the smile to your face and the heat threatening up your neck as you bring your attention back to your book.
You release your hand from his. "Let me go read𑁋"
But before you can go back to reading, you feel a pair of arms wrap around and pull you into a tight embrace, knocking the book off your lap. A surprised gasp flies out of you, and in one swift motion, Seungcheol flips you both over so that he's now hovering over you. Your book is long forgotten on the floor as you stare up at him in surprise, the dim light casting a soft glow on both your faces.
Something catches in your throat as you lock eyes with him. If you listen closely, his breathing is just as unstable as your heartbeat, like he's breathless already. His dark gaze seems to hold a silent request, glancing between your eyes and your mouth. It bares a question that doesn't need words, and you answer with a small nod.
And with that, he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. It's soft, tender like always, and it doesn't take much for your body to go all limp below his as it deepens. He presses his weight against you carefully, making sure you're comfortable beneath him.
You feel the way he trails his fingers along your arm until he reaches your hand once again. With a deliberate move, he laces your fingers together before bringing your hand up to pin it gently against the pillow behind your head.
Seungcheol breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.
"Okay?" he asks, voice a low murmur.
You nod, even though your heart is more than ready to burst out of your chest at any given moment. "Okay."
His eyes only soften, the smile to his face widening, a couple of shy giggles escaping your mouths together and into the thick air surrounding you both. He captures your lips once again in another sweet, lingering kiss, before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.
"So pretty," Seungcheol whispers against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. He starts peppering feather-light kisses along your jawline, his hand gentle on your waist as he revels in the simple joy of holding you close. You lightly run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingertips.
"Why are you being so... so touchy right now?" You tease impishly, sighing contentedly at his touch, feeling the soft vibrations of his laughter against your cheek.
"I dunno," he admits simply, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "You were reading too much."
"I was only reading for, like, an hour. That's not that long."
"An hour too long," he counters sulkily, pressing a soft peck to the tip of your nose. "I can't fall asleep without you."
You let out a playful scoff, running your fingertips up the exposed skin of his back ridden up from the black hoodie he wore. "You're such a big baby, Cheol."
Seungcheol leans down so his mouth is just a breath away, and before you could register it, he's rolling over once again so that you're on top of him this time, his hands coming to rest firmly at your hips. There's a smirk to his face that you can hardly see, yet you already know what he's thinking.
"Only for you."
"For... me?"
"Just for you," he murmurs against your lips. "I'm all yours."
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the great war
❝Because the greatest war Seungcheol had ever waged was against your heart.❞
historical! au | enemies to lovers! au | smut, fluff | 41k words
s u m m a r y : there was only one thing you hated more than your restricted life, and that was choi seungcheol—the greatest venetian general who has ever lived. when a marriage is arranged between the two of you, you were sure it would end in bloodshed. however, as you and seungcheol are forced to attend balls and share a few hard truths, you realise you have more in common with the mysterious general than you thought.
c o n t e n t : military commander! seungcheol, noblewoman! artist! mc, artist! minghao, artist! soonyoung who are both annoying (affectionate), cheol and mc absolutely hate each other because i need to see proper e2l, cheol has a scar on his lip (yes this needs a separate warning), this is set in renaissance venice so there will be many artist references, the doge = basically ruler of venice, themes of sexism, constant arguing between mc and cheol, there is fluff, also angst mature warnings -> tons of sexual tension, making out fuelled by hatred, cheol calls you carrissima (which personally i find very hot) fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (only because medieval contraception is horrendous), petnames cheol says some vile things during the deed, slight corruption kink
p l a y l i s t : dangerous woman by ariana grande || war of the hearts by sade || love is stronger than pride by sade || i don’t understand but i luv u by seventeen
t a g l i s t : at the bottom of the fic!
a u t h o r ’ s n o t e : hi hello thank you everyone for waiting for this monster fic!! thank you alice and addy for being the reason i finished this fic, thank you chia for creating a beautiful picture of general! cheol, and greatest thanks to choi seungcheol the man you are </3 i hope you all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it <33
WHEN THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC DEFEATED THE OTTOMANS ONCE AND FOR ALL, EVERY CITIZEN—BE IT PEASANT OR THE RICHEST ARISTOCRAT—KNEW WHO WAS BEHIND THAT VICTORY.
His name sparked life into the deathly, cramped streets. Whispers and cheers carried along the murky lakes, the rushed streams underneath the city, lapping up to the cobblestoned shore—entering the ears of marketeers, patricians, nuns, prostitutes, everyone. Wherever one went, the commander’s name rang like the dozen church bells, scattered throughout the lake-locked lands.
The buzz in the air was more frantic this afternoon, though, because the victors’ party was finally returning to the state.
Finally returning home.
You, despite your family’s excitement, despite your connections to the man behind the success of it all, could not have cared less.
“Oh, stop it!” you heard your friend exclaim, nearly toppling over his easel from sheer disbelief.
“What? You merely asked, brushing a small grey shade upon your canvas. You cast a quick glance at the model in front of you—bare save for red silk covering her thighs, cloth falling to the floor from the pedestal she sat upon. “So what if I care little for the general?”
“See, now you are lying to tease me!” the young man crowed, black hair flickered with paint you sprayed an hour ago. He set his wooden palette down, crossing his arms. “The greatest commander Venice has seen since her birth, and you say you care little?”
“You know I never lie to you, Hao,” you began, knowing that alone was a fib—your dear friend’s snort was confirmation enough. “I simply do not understand the excitement!”
“Of course you would say that, though,” another man chipped in, tugging on his dirtied leather trousers beside you. “His uncle and your father are childhood friends, no?”
You nodded, sighing as you continued painting. “I have seen this man all my life, and every conversation I have leads to fighting. Did you know he tattled on me every time I snuck out? Painted in the house?”
“Yes, we do, because you never shut up about it,” Minghao jeered, rolling his eyes as he dusted his hands. “To be quite frank, I would tell on you too if I was forced in your presence.”
Knifing the man with a glare, you said, “Perhaps I should inform your mother that her dear son is playing with oil paints rather than praying in the Basilica.”
“Oh, shit!” the other man snickered. “Does she think you are in church right now?”
“You talk as if you were not supposed to accompany me, Soonyoung,” Minghao muttered. “We both were caught with the prostitutes.”
“My God,” Soonyoung murmured as he finished tying his shoes. “Mama is going to kill us.”
“You both better hurry then,” you chanted, fixing another detail of the model’s face.
“As if your father has not hired guards to find you in every corner.” The elder of the two snatched your paintbrush, spraying a little oil paint on the picture.
“Oh my God!” you shouted, ready to start a brawl in the artists’ studio when he interrupted you.
“Go back to the Doge’s Palace before Minghao and I get our arses handed to us again,” he said, wiggling a finger at you. “I refuse to be blamed for your antics.”
“Fine,” you said, setting your palette down, looking over your progress. “But only because I am your dear, merciful, awe-inspiring friend.”
Minghao clicked his tongue. “Perhaps we should follow the general’s tendencies and tattle on you too.”
“You would not dare!”
The bastards only laughed, mocking a salute before stumbling out of the studio, arm in arm. Still drunk from the night before.
You supposed you should return to your manor, in case your father was truly on the hunt.
Thanking the model profusely, you stored your easel in your side of the studio, a place you had rightfully earned alongside your peers. The place was filled with unfinished paintings, bursts of colour in every corner of the workshop—the palettes, oil paint mixed upon its surface, models either nude or adorned in the finest garbs of the season. The studio was never quiet, bustling with orders in Venetian for more paint or the models to stand or sit or scream in a certain manner. You adored the chaos. The anarchy of the colours, the rivalry of the artists, the love-struck sighs of the sitters as they observed their image.
This was your home. This was your sanctuary, your domain.
This was your life.
A sharp exhale escaped you.
If only they would understand.
Grabbing your satchel, you brought out your nun’s gowns. Making sure that none watched, you quickly rid yourself of your painter’s garb, adorning the black and white dress. Catching sight of the mirror on the clothed walls, you fixed the veil upon your head, hiding your hair underneath the fabric. Picking off any specks of dried paint, you nodded at yourself.
Satisfied, you turned to your colleagues, who dipped their heads in adieu, always entertained by your costume. Shaking your head, you exited the huge studio, and out onto the streets.
The stench of Venice never failed to make you scoff, wiping your nose as you set on your path back. Thousands of men and women from every corner of the world were in the middle of your journey, hearing bargaining voices in Venetian, Florentine, Milanese—your ears picked up a little Greek gossiping, Turkish joking, Arabic storytelling, dialects you could not name. Even though it was a Sunday, the city was still bustling, the cramped streets unable to breathe with this many people journeying on the cobblestone.
You were relieved to wear the nunnery gowns when you saw some noblewomen being stared at cruelly by the majority patricians who roamed Saint Mark’s Square. You almost rolled your eyes—patricians, the important men of the state—always in women’s businesses.
Imagine if they caught you like this.
You did not want to ponder over it.
The stroll back to the palace was not far; the Doge’s Palace they called it, but it seemed like a residence for kings. Overlooking the waters, gondola boats were lined across its side as its white columns held up the great building, white and gold squares shining amongst the other grand sites of the Square. You walked to the back of the estate—looking around frantically, you made sure no one recognised you as you slipped in from the many entrances. The guards were there, but none would refuse entry to a woman of God.
The inside of the Palace was even grander than the outside—the halls were airy, spacious, ceilings reaching to the sky as they foretold stories of the Bible, painted by various art geniuses of Italian origin. You did not take time to admire the images, though, a little concerned that the sun was setting, and you promised your father that you would return by this time. Plus, you needed to free yourself from these robes.
Your private chambers were at the very top of the palace, so the dozens of stairs had robbed you of your strength, wheezing as you hurriedly made your way to the doge’s private residences.
There. Your door was not far. You could see it clearly, your feet picking up the pace, your hands reaching out for the ornate knob attached—
You glanced at the knob, further in the doorway.
The door was ajar. Open.
The most unladylike curse escaped you.
If your father went inside, you were undeniably done for.
You closed your eyes, stepping inside the room. Your mouth parted to spew the sweetest apologies, ready to bend knees to ask forgiveness.
A scoff entered your ears, then, and the hairs at the back of your neck perked up.
“Who let the she-devil wear the Lord’s robes?”
Your eyes flew open.
There, in the middle of your bedchamber, stood the most important man in the Venetian Republic.
General Choi Seungcheol quirked a brow at your appearance, and you thought the angels would extract your soul right there and then.
Unfortunately, his own appearance was never lacking—he was adorned in his signature midnight armour, matching his hair, a little longer than you last remembered, curling over his ears. A velvet cape, clipped at his right shoulder, flowed like wine upon his frame, tumbling to your carpet where it rested at the point of his longsword, glinting white from the descending sun. His hands settled on its grand pommel, swirls of red and gold spreading to its wide guard. His eyes, as dark as coals, regarded you like an enemy on the battlefield—assessing, sizing you up.
“His Excellency never informed me of you taking the vows. Perhaps it was as I suspected.”
His decision was made when a wry smile coiled his lips, a scar cutting through them. A full on offensive.
“Only God can fix you.”
That comment had you swooping down to reality. Instantly you stiffened. “It truly is a dire shame to see you alive. I was hoping the Turks would gut you on the battlefield.”
You set your satchel down, mocking a ponder. “No, sinking your ship would have suited you. No one to drag your rotting body out of the ocean.”
“Three years apart from you, and you still remain the most charming lady.” He cocked his head, a few curls falling across his forehead.
“Is this any manner to treat your oldest friend?”
You pursed your lips.
Oldest friend.
Damn him to Hell and beyond. This man was anything but your friend. He was very aware of that too.
He raised a hand, gesturing towards your outfit. “Allow me to guess…these poor, holy robes were used as mere disguise?”
You tried your best to hide your guilt. “Maybe I have joined the convent. It is not as if you have spent your time here to know of my business, despite your every effort of finding out.”
“Oh?” He then glanced at the door. “I should ask His Excellency then, and congratulate him for finally locking you up.”
He sheathed his sword, making a step towards the door but you were quick, barring him from exit. “You will do no such thing,” you hissed, and the victorious curl of his mouth had you wishing all Venetian men returned to the war and died.
“Why is that?” he leaned in, and you were certain you could smash your head against his—of course, he was likely to evade your clumsy effort—it would be meaningful to at least try. “But you defended yourself so perfectly! Your father deserves to know.”
“Ten years of military service failed to beat the gossip out of you.” You matched his shit-eating expression. “Go, then. Run to my father like you did as a child. You will always remain his little baby, even at your age.”
That must have stung, because his smirk faltered. His eyes did not leave yours, and you had a slight feeling he would take out his sword and cut you in half.
But of course, you were the daughter of his dear patron, too important a woman, despite being a woman. So he only exhaled sharply through his nose, colliding against your shoulder as he pushed past your figure, thundering to the door.
You were not letting him escape so easily. “Why were you in my room?” you demanded.
He paused at the doorway. “His Excellency asked to bring you to him and his guests.” He looked over his shoulder. “He was not aware that his daughter was sneaking out, going God knows where.”
Before you could snap back, he left the room, hearing his boots thump in the distance.
You watched the empty doorway for about a minute.
And then, with all the rage you could muster, you kicked your satchel as hard as you could.
The poor bag went flying, spilling out your canvases that scattered across the floor.
It was as you said.
Despite the man’s success, his favour, his glory, you could not have cared less about him.
But you were wrong.
It was not a lack of care about his existence.
This was a full care of eradicating his existence.
Because one day, despite your own lack of resources, lack of power, lack of influence, you were going to kill the Victor of Venice.
WHEN YOU FINALLY ARRIVED DOWN TO THE DRAWING ROOM, IT WAS NOT JUST YOUR FATHER THAT AWAITED YOU.
Seated on the opposite chairs, across from him, was the damned man you had met minutes prior, ankle-on-knee as his eyes darkened at your presence. The other man was his uncle, Councillor Choi, whose sudden rise to power was duly noted in the aristocratic circles. He was by custom donned in red patrician robes, a matching cap settled on his head. He smiled seeing you arrive, which you returned cordially.
Your father turned to see you, and he furrowed his brows. “What took you so long, cara?”
Getting out of nuns’ gowns was harder than you thought. “My apologies, father,” you said, standing beside him.
He did not seem to like this gesture today. “No, _____,” he began, pointing towards an empty seat beside Seungcheol’s uncle. “Today, you must honour Choi by sitting beside him.”
A little confused, you nonetheless obeyed, settling yourself next to the councillor. Extremely pleased, he turned to the man at the front. “Your Excellency, I am sure you know why my dear nephew and I are here.”
The general dipped his head in respect. “I could not go anywhere else before seeing the Doge, of course.”
The Doge—the leader of Venice, and the head of her state. Your father earned this position about ten years ago, around the same time Seungcheol joined the military, and rose straight to the top. It was custom for the leader of Venice’s legions to pay respects to the doge before celebrating victories, but he was always pleased to see the young commander. Unfortunately, your father was extremely fond of the man you despised.
“Oh, there must be no formalities with me, general,” your father mused. He then sent a knowing glance at the other elder man. “Especially this time round.”
Seungcheol laughed lightly. “No, no, count this as any other battle I have won for you.”
Councillor Choi smiled knowingly. “No, dear nephew. This informality surpasses this.”
Now he was confused too. You and him turned to the doge, who was all smiles. “Well,” he started, focusing on you both, “You two know of my lifelong friendship with Choi here.”
A pair of heads nodded hesitantly. “You see, we wish to…how do I say this…Ah!” He locked his hands together. “We wish to strengthen our bond in another way. In an alliance that will never be broken.”
That only furthered your puzzlement. The Doge sensed it. “Children, what I mean to say is…”
Councillor Choi stepped in.
Dropped a declaration which had every particle of air disappearing from the room.
“What His Excellency means to say is that you two are to be married in a few weeks.”
You blinked.
Stilled.
Felt the floor slip from beneath your feet.
Seungcheol’s voice entered your ears.
“What did you just say?”
Councillor Choi turned to the young man, who peered at him as if he had seen a ghost. “You heard me correctly, Cheol.” His hands touched the arms of your and the commander’s chairs. “It is the perfect union. The greatest Venetian general who ever lived, and the daughter of the greatest Doge who led you. The public will rejoice at the news!”
“And what about the people who are involved?”
Your father studied you, who had finally gotten something out. “Well, it is I and his uncle who chose—”
“No,” you interrupted, turning your head to him. “I do not mean the families. I meant the two people you have dragged into this?”
“Cara!” he exclaimed, taken aback by your inquiries. “We did not think we had to ask your opinion on whoever I chose for you.”
A shuddered, enraged gasp escaped you.
You knew this.
You were aware of your lack of choice when it came to your marriage. Always, in the back of your mind, you were prepared to hand yourself over to some insipid nobleman, have his heirs, and separate, throwing yourself in your artistic passions. It was plausible. Women in your circles have achieved separate lives from their disappointing husbands, so you thought this would be your fate.
You had accepted that fate.
“Out of everyone in Venice…”
Slowly, you straightened out of the chair.
“You chose him?!”
Your accusatory finger pointed at the culprit—he, too, looked as if he could burn the Palace down. “You know how Seungcheol and I feel about each other!”
“Your conversations are akin to children bickering.” the Doge crossed his arms. “Usually it is you starting the fights.”
“What?!” you exclaimed. “Oh, so now I am to be punished with this awful union?! I refuse, Papa!”
Councillor Choi rose from his chair, raising his hands as if to steady your temper. “My lady, I understand your distress, but this is for the betterment of our families! You will find no other suitor as good as—”
“Enough.”
Seungcheol stood up from his seat—the grave expression had the elders pausing. “I cannot listen to this any longer.” He dipped his head to the Doge. “Your Excellency.”
His uncle watched him incredulously. “Cheol,” he muttered. “We have not finished this discussion.”
The general did not bother to return his gaze. Instead, his glare was upon you. “You already know my opinion on this…this marriage.”
With that, he stalked out of the room, crimson cloak trailing after his midnight boots.
You had a mind to follow his actions—there was nothing else to say. “Even your Victor despises the idea,” you spat.
“The Victor will be persuaded,” the councillor reassured you, as if you needed the reassurance.
Facing your father, you fisted your hands. “I cannot do this. I will not do this.”
The Doge narrowed his eyes at you. “We shall see about that.” He pointed to the door. “Now go! I have heard enough from you.”
Gritting your teeth, you marched out of the halls, leaving the elders alone.
As you thundered back to your chambers, you seethed through your ears, hands still clasped in tight fists.
A marriage to Choi Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol.
You would have died than surrender to your mortal enemy.
How dare they ever concoct such a union? Everyone in the patrician circles was aware of your mutual hostility—even your father had commented on it numerous times in the past, before Seungcheol had left for the Ottoman campaign. Just when you thought you were rid of him, he was to be tied to you for eternity. You were aware that people did not live for a long time, but you would be damned if you had to spend even a second with him.
You could not get married to him.
Never.
DESPITE YOUR HARDEST EFFORTS TO ESCAPE, YOUR FUTURE WAS TIED TO THE FATEFUL UNION.
You were even planning, on one occasion, to escape the Palace—run away in your nun’s robes, join some travelling artists and leave Venice altogether. Your father had probably caught onto your intentions, though, because you noticed an increase of guards around the giant manor, and your every movement was watched with scrutiny.
The nerves were kicking in at this point. The prospect of marriage was becoming all the more real. You prayed to the Lord at the Basilica, hoping for a solution, begging for divine aid.
The heavens helped in the worst possible manner.
They answered in the Choi household’s response.
An acceptance from Seungcheol. An acceptance to the marriage.
Your first reaction was denial—there was no possibility in the world that would have him accepting the proposal. He hated the prospect as much as you did. He hated you as much as you hated him
Then why in Hell had he accepted?
The shock, eventually, was replaced with pure rage.
But, even with the world’s anger burning in your veins, there was no hope now. If the man had accepted, then there was no escape for you.
The wedding would proceed, whether you wanted to or not.
You remembered nothing of the event.
Everyone rejoiced at the grand affair—the Doge’s beloved daughter, finally married, and to the greatest man in Venice. The entire city was decorated in your father and the Choi’s family banners, locals to foreigners celebrating by sharing food and drink, dancing in the streets, and playing lively music loud enough for all of Europe to hear.
The ceremony was a blur to you; you were completely dazed in the past few weeks, remembering solely the landscapes you had painted in between the minute breaks you could find. A small part of you thought you were experiencing a nightmare, and that you just had to wake up, and everything would fall into place. Everything that was happening around you—the decorations, the preparations for the fated day—it was an act, a live scene in a city-sized theatre, and you the unaware actress.
You believed in this excuse till the end. Even on the day of the wedding, adorned in the finest silk gowns, ruffled collars and soft-coloured veils half-covering your face, you assumed it was a change of costume. Even when your father, dressed in his custom doge dress, led you inside Saint Mark’s Basilica, hundreds of the most important people in Europe gathered to witness the union, you assumed this was your audience.
It was when your eyes found the groom’s you realised everything was real.
Then, you remembered nothing at all.
You forgot kneeling beside the Victor as you both prayed to the Cross, shielded by solid gold columns and arches of the church. Your memory erased the vows, the hesitant I do to every question the vicar asked the both of you. Your mind eradicated the slight tears that welled your eyes, or the lack of any emotion in the general’s.
Both of you were doomed once the vicar declared you husband and wife.
The after-parties were even worse than the legal event.
All your family and friends drank their weight in wine as the two of you were forced in the centre of everything, rigid as statues as your people stumbled and fell around you. You never shared a single similarity with Seungcheol, but today you shared common ground. Both of you wanted to be away from this anarchy. The celebrations were done in the Doge’s Palace, but you would go to the Choi’s family manor the very next day, and begin your new life.
What topped the entire day was the wedding night.
The seal of the deal. To ratify the union.
To consummate this marriage.
Your fears had caught up to you—the theatre had come crashing down, the costume was in tatters, and the act was cut short. This was cruel, cruel reality, and now you had to give yourself up to the one man who would make your life a living nightmare.
Cursing the giggles and whispers of the ladies as they brought you to your chambers, now completely filled with flowers and pretty ornaments, ugly in your eyes at that very moment. Sweet and spicy wine had been laid on the bedside tables, more roses scattered on your four-poster bed, curtains drawn. Your servants then tried to have you untie your wedding dress, but one glare towards them, and they shrank back.
“I think she wants her new husband to do the honours,” one of the ladies mused, and you honestly believed you could have snatched the wine bottle and smashed it over her head.
The ladies soon hurried out, and you ripped out your collar, the veil, every little piece of the dress which suffocated you. You wanted to get out, sneak away like you always did in the dead of night to your studio, but tonight you feared you were stuck.
A few minutes passed, and thoughts of escape were almost becoming intangible when you heard the door open.
Seungcheol entered the room, and you stilled.
He was also wearing his wedding attire, but his cravat had been loosened, revealing a sliver of his neck. His curls were wild, as if he had been raking his hands through them. Even as a groom his sword was strapped at his side, the weapon absent at the actual ritual. You could have laughed at him if you were not so nervous—even on an apparent intimate night, he had only thoughts of murdering you.
His expression, on the other hand, revealed no humour.
You heard him sigh sharply, locking the door. That instantly had your nerves heightening. “Unlock the door,” you commanded, getting up from the bed. “I need to run away if you try to do something.”
“I shall have no drunk cousin or lecherous relative spying on us,” he refuted, stepping closer into the room.
“Spying?” your senses perked up. “Seungcheol, we are not doing anything worth spying on, do you understand?”
“What the hell do you mean?” he demanded, propping his gloved hands on his hips. He made to step closer to you but you raised your hand to stop him.
“I know a man has expectations,” you started, backing away from him, “Everyone expects us to seal the marriage, and I know that is the tradition, but I do not care…” you paused, and even the thought of such an action frightened you.
“If you try to touch me, Seungcheol, I will not hesitate to take your sword and stab myself with it.”
He parted his mouth to sneer, but he caught the look in your gaze. He had never seen such a promise ready to be fulfilled should your worst fears occur.
The man could not help but step back.
“Did you really think I would do that, _____?”
You smiled, albeit without any humour. “Well, first you declare that you would rather die at the hands of a Turk before marrying me, and here you stand as my husband.” You shook your head. “I cannot trust you.”
The accusation on his honour stung. “I stand by what I said. I did not want—do not want to marry you.”
“Then why did you say yes?!” you screamed.
He stood silent for a time, gritting his teeth.
It was the truth. Choi Seungcheol was the last man on earth who wished for your hand.
He, too, wanted to escape as the ceremony progressed. Even as you came into the church, dolled up in the height of fashion, he wished nothing more than to run out of God’s holy building, jump upon a gondola and row away from the city.
Despite his prowess, his popularity, his apparent undeniable power, he was unable to escape this marriage. There were exterior forces, beyond his control.
He said it to you truthfully.
“I was given no choice. I had to say yes.”
You did not believe him. “King of the Venetian military, the Republic’s favourite man and you could not control your choice of wife?” You wanted to laugh at him.
He could tell. “You would not understand,” he muttered, turning away from you. “All you have ever done is be a spoiled Doge’s daughter.”
That really ticked you off. “You have no idea what I have done for myself. You will never know of the burdens I carry for being a woman alone.” You crossed your arms, daring him to face you like a man. “All you have done is go to some foreign land and kill a few poor souls.”
Now that really ticked him off. “You speak of burdens as if I have none.” His voice dropping an octave had you blinking back. “You are not the only person who has struggled.”
You watched him as he finally deigned you a glance. There was something incredibly bleak in his usual stormy eyes. Not that you had never not seen him in a sour countenance, but this was possibly the first time you had seen him so hopeless.
“You are not the only person who has felt alone.”
A great part inside of you wished to cackle the ceiling down.
He should feel alone! You raged inside your mind, looking down at the ends of your wedding gown. He should feel something akin to loneliness so he could understand a fraction of your despair. The general was constantly surrounded by his men, his followers, hundreds of thousands of admirers from all over Europe.
You, on the other hand, had only yourself and your paint.
Even with that bitterness, no laughter spluttered from your lips.
You could only match his cruel stare, and hope he took you seriously.
A few more minutes passed before he sighed, taking off his loosened cravat from his neck, putting his sheathed sword on the set of drawers behind him. “We should sleep,” he said, stepping before the opposite side of the bed.
Watching his every move, you then shifted your gaze to the bed. “Yes…we should…”
His famous brow quirked inquisitively. “What are you thinking now?” he asked, clearly exasperated. He then continued dryly, “If you are still hesitant about the whole consummation, then I can assure you that I, too, would slice my head off if you suggested it.”
“Well, I am not suggesting it,” you muttered. “I am more puzzled about why you are getting into bed.”
His tiredness did not stop his stare turning sharp with sarcasm. “Because that is what a person does if they wish to sleep.”
“I am aware of that, thank you.” You put a hand to your chest. “But I wish to sleep as well, and I will be damned before I let you sleep in the same bed as me.”
Now his gaze turned mocking. “My God, you have some nerve saying such a thing.” He set the cravat down on the bedside table. “If you have a problem with me sleeping here, you can sleep somewhere else.”
“Excuse me!” you exclaimed, reaching out to clutch the bedsheets. “This is my bedroom. I have slept here my entire life!” You huffed, sitting on the plush mattress. “Besides, are you soldiers not accustomed to sleeping anywhere? I am sure my bedroom floor is a lavish upgrade from whatever hellsite you rested abroad.”
“Oh, you—” he brought his knee upon the bed, hands further placed as he leaned closer to you. “I care very little whether you have been sleeping here all your life. Your father brought me here, so I have a right to this space.”
You matched his vigour instantly, leaning just as close, sparking a fire in your expression. “And I care none if Papa brought you here—hell, if the Pope carried you to this very room.” His growing rage had no effect on your own. “Sleep. On. The. Floor.”
Mere inches away from each other, the general stared you down. Had the receiver of such a cruel eye been his soldiers, they would have run for the lakes, abandoned the army altogether. Seungcheol’s cold, calculating glares have had enemies shiver in their masses.
It irked him so ardently that his infamous tactics ceased to work on you.
He looked over your features: the manic, determined glint in your pupils, the flared nose, the pursed lips. No one, a woman, no less, had stood up to him like this.
Of course, he should not have been surprised. You had always been a sharp pain in his backside.
God, I cannot let her win, his voice rang, over and over in his head. She cannot have this over me.
But then he saw a glimmer in your usual mischievous gaze, and he knew you were about to commit a crime.
He was not wrong.
Because you did have an idea, and you smirked, fingers rising to the thin bow on the top of your dress.
Slowly, you began to untie the lace.
Seungcheol watched with no small amount of horror as your rigid wedding gown began to loosen at the top, its flared arms drooping around your shoulders.
You made to untie the second lace when he raised his hands, twisting his lips into a scowl. “What the hell are you doing?!” he demanded, getting off the bed.
“What does it look like?” You untied the string, dress falling further down till you needed your hands to hold it steady.
A single drop, and everything would be revealed.
The greatest general in the peninsula nearly squirmed at the thought.
Your fingers toyed with the last lace.
His eyes darted to your movements. Then, to your face, and you noticed the change of expression—it was as if he was thinking of a military strategy, a last-minute decision on the battlefield.
Once again, you pulled at the string.
But before the knot was fully untied you heard a savage growl escape his mouth.
“Oh, for God’s sake!”
Before you even let the dress fall, he swerved around, grabbing hold of his sword from the drawers. “Fine! Have your room!” The muscles on his back flexed as he raked a hand in his hair. “You are truly ridiculous!”
You could only laugh at the scene of him thundering to the door, vigorously unlocking it and storming out.
The laughter did not stop as you changed into your nightgown, shaking your head.
You did not care if Choi Seungcheol had become your husband.
You were not going to let anything about your life change.
AS IF THE ACTUAL WEDDING CELEBRATIONS WERE NOT ENOUGH, THE PATRICIANS WISHED TO SEE YOU BOTH AS AN OFFICIAL COUPLE.
You and Seungcheol never received a moment’s rest. It had been a mere week since the two of you were bound forever, but everyone wished to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds, the two most popular people in the Republic.
It was hard enough having to attend—what made it quite worse was that you and the general barely spoke to each other.
Seungcheol found solace in the war council, Venice’s position still unstable since its victory over the Ottomans. You supposed him avoiding you was an unlikely advantage, as it meant you could go wherever you wished in the daytime without him knowing.
It was not like you discarded the nun’s gowns either—what a man does not know will not hurt him.
Your dear friends, who had attended the wedding, harassed you for details of any intimacy between your husband, and with great disgust you rebuked any wild fantasies you were sure they had conjured up. You simply released your frustrations on new paintings, hoping your newfound circumstances would inspire your creativity.
“You can always paint the general as the god of war,” Soonyoung offered, admiring his own art, inspired by the mythology. “And you as Venus, his oh so smitten goddess.”
He was not met with any amusement. “I shall paint him as an ugly troll,” you pondered, creating the blue skies upon your giant canvas. “And I can be Diana, hunt him down and pierce him with my arrow!”
“Congratulations on your marriage, happy bride,” Minghao jeered, earning a good shove into his table of paints from you. Soonyoung, fearing further violence, resorted to laughing at his poor friend, turning to the model he drew.
Your friends were utter shits, but at least they knew you could handle their incessant bullying—still, they were unaware that you and the general remained separate in the bedchamber.
The separation continued for the next week, and you thought that a marriage can be convenient in the end. Seungcheol, minding his own business, investing his energies in the Republic; you, investing your heart and soul into your art.
However, all good things tend not to last.
The parties were upon the both of you in an instant, and invitations being sent from every patrician family in the city had to be answered. You would have outright refused to come had the Doge and Councillor Choi not pestered for a positive answer.
With the esteemed general not present to discuss it with, you read up on the ideal Venetian wife, and what she would do when mentioning an important matter.
And then did the exact opposite.
You were well versed on married female etiquette, but completely ignored it as you walked through Saint Mark’s square. It was unusual without your disguise, feeling more exposed—there were eyes on you everywhere. Any normal woman would have been tormented off the streets.
You, however, were the Victor’s wife.
Scowling at the fact, you entered the Choi’s Manor on the banks of the Lagoon, a beauty of black and white and gold swirling on the stone walls, sleek windows speckled all over the buildings. The grand doors were open once they saw your figure nearing, whispers of excitement at your entrance.
The large courtyard was bustling with servants, the scent of a rich lunch looming in the warm air. A housekeeper hurried to you, greeting formalities to you, and asked you if you needed any assistance.
“Yes, I am looking for General Choi, please,” you said, looking around the four sides of the manor, keeping you in. Faint clashes of steel-on-steel entered your ears the more you focused on your surroundings. “I was wondering if he was here.”
The housekeeper first giggled heartedly. “General Choi! My goodness, ma’am, such formality with your husband!”
You only offered a huffed laugh. “Yes, I suppose so,” you mumbled, because you could not enlighten her that you saw him more as an old pain-in-the-arse and less as a life partner.
“He is outside in the next courtyard, sparring with a soldier. Come, dearest, let me take you to him.”
She led you into the red-decked halls of the Choi Manor, recognising the face of the Councillor on the paintings, a few of his deceased wife. Interesting how Seungcheol was not in any of them.
Stopping at the edge of the exit, she gestured outside, the sound of swords much louder. “They must be finishing up by now.”
You thanked her as she left, watching her settle in the first courtyard before taking a deep breath.
You stepped into the second. The white cobblestone beneath your shoes was more polished, hurt your feet much less. Barrels were stacked against the walls, a few horses tied loosely on fences, waiting patiently for their owners. You first thought why on earth someone had horses in Venice, but a harsh clash of steel had your head whirling.
Your mouth parted, ever so slightly.
There he was. The commander of Venice, on the opposite side, sending his longsword upon his subordinate’s. The younger of the two staggered, quickly regained his composure, but your groom was faster. Seungcheol’s loose white shirt clung to his muscled body as he collided his sword again, matted black curls whipping along each rapid move.
He was not far from being faster than lightning—you had heard of his military prowess, but people always had a tendency to inflate their favourites’ achievements. Watching the general bring down the soldier’s barriers, slashing his opponent’s sword to the ground, and then making him surrender within a minute, was something else entirely. It was as if he had consumed the soul of Mars, and had, if only for a second, become the god of war.
You just had to admit it. Choi Seungcheol was a born warrior.
It did not help either that his irritatingly thin shirt revealed too much evidence of his warriorship.
You can always paint the general as the god of war.
Instantly you scowled.
He grinned widely upon his defeated soldier—you could not hear him, but you were sure he was teasing the man of his victory. Soon after, though, he held out his hand, and the soldier was up, pulling him in a side-embrace.
Quickly you cleared your throat, alerting your presence to the two men.
Seungcheol’s shrewd gaze latched onto you.
His smirk remained. “Do you wish to be next, my lady?”
A roll of eyes was reflex as you walked closer to him. “Never. I won’t let you kill me this easily.”
The opponent listened with eyes wide. “Cheol! How can you offer a sparring match to your wife?”
The general did not steer his gaze from you. “Believe me, Chan,” he said, “This woman before you is capable of a massacre.”
This Chan could only watch in horror as you smiled at your husband, void of any warmth. He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable between his commander and his wife. “I will go inside,” he announced to no one in particular and retired, a little haste in his step.
Seungcheol glanced at his subordinate before focusing on you. “To what do I owe this displeasure?”
“I had no burning desire to see you, either, Cheol,” you chirped, smug to see him scowl at the nickname. You brought out paper envelopes, a fraction of the dozens waiting at the Doge’s Palace. “Invitations. Our friends and family wish to see us.”
He took one from your hand, studying the family name. “Since when did you want to visit these people? I thought you despised patricians.”
“I do.” You then recalled a recent memory. “Father insists I go with you. He thinks it rude to not attend parties celebrated for us.”
He then studied you. “Since when did you care for the opinions of others?”
You raised a brow. “I do not.”
“Excellent.” He returned the invitation. “Then there is no need to go.”
But you were not satisfied. “I would have agreed with you—”
“Agreed with me?” he mockingly gasped, and you had to stamp on the urge to grab his sword and slice the smirk off his face. “My, my, what caused you to support my opinion? Has the Lord finally struck some good sense into you?”
“Is there not another war for you to die in?” you snapped.
“You can be the first to send me to my death should the war arise,” he merely offered, a phantom smile touching his lips. “Now tell me, why do you want to go to these awful parties?”
Your hands locked behind your back. “I was sent word from Councillor Choi.” The mention had Seungcheol pausing. “He asked whether you were the one insisting I decline invitations.”
This information had the man losing amusement. You noticed instantly. “Is there something amiss between the two of you?”
“Nothing of importance,” he said, but he was lying through his teeth. Since your childhoods you could never decipher his dishonesty—the bastard was damn good at deception. This very moment, though, it was startling how easily you read him.
He noticed your scrutiny, and waved it off with his hand, grabbing hold of his canteen. “We will go to a few parties.” He took a quick swig, setting it upon the barrel. “We can always leave early.”
You nodded, watching him take his longsword. “I was expecting you to argue with me,” he taunted. “Have I finally tamed the beast?”
“You could not even argue me out of my bed,” you remarked, turning on your heel. “Boast of something you have actually achieved.”
There you left him seething, you snickering to yourself as you exited the courtyard.
Finally tamed the beast?
You scoffed.
I shall see about that.
ALL THE PARTIES YOU ATTENDED FOR THE PATRICIANS WERE EVERY BIT AS HORRENDOUS AS YOU EXPECTED.
You and Seungcheol decided to attend the most important out of the invitations, but that still meant showing your faces for the dozen nights.
The first was done at the Doge’s Palace, courtesy of your father, and the sheer boredom of the formalities had you falling asleep mid-conversation. Still, you held out, knowing that your husband was nearby, gathering the attention of the most important men within that vicinity.
The nights did not stop there, though. The next party would then lose the formalities, and the more celebrations you attended, the wilder they became. The talk of politics over a glass of Tuscan wine became almost drunken brawls in the supposed dignified ballrooms. Members of your family and friends, who always vocalised etiquette and honour above everything else, became the centres of embarrassment when too much alcohol was consumed.
You would have found all of this incredibly entertaining had you not been forced to witness these events. At least Seungcheol was uncomfortable with the drunken anarchy around him, so you resorted to laughing at him instead.
Five parties of the same mayhem, and then it became too boring.
There were only so many times you could see the same families fight each other in the cool night air. There was only a limit to how much wine you could drink before it would be taken from you, and then you would spend the rest of the night exasperated.
It was in the sixth party that you decided to sneak out.
The plan was perfect—you knew that you could not escape too early, so you encouraged the guests to drink as much as their guts could manage, and watched as the chaos you quickened consumed the manor. You smiled to yourself as, within the third hour, you began to slip away from the party. The Venetian people were truly as foolish as you expected.
You hoped, though, that Seungcheol had not seen you, as he, unfortunately, was not a part of the foolish class. You cared little the more distance you created from the party estate, turning to your familiar, artistic haven.
The escape from the celebrations brought you relief of the highest order; it was nice to have other artists around as you paint, but having the studio to yourself in the middle of the night was a greater fortune. Your friends’ words were an inspiration, so you began to explore the possibilities of a mythology painting.
Every time a party occurred after that, you managed to escape the celebrations, finding solace in your workshop, the paints that covered your skirts, your hands as you bore your soul to the empty canvas. This act continued for a few more parties, you going unnoticed, and you were incredibly smug.
However, when Soonyoung invited you to his family manor, it was almost impossible to escape. Especially since you wanted to leave the moment you entered the estate, your husband right beside you, as eager to escape as you were.
The place was in chaos.
The lute players were in disarray, you suspecting they were half-drunk on wine, being handed out by servants in every corner. If you thought the previous parties were bad, the one the Kwon family held was another form of debauchery. There were courtesans, whispering to older patricians—widowed men, married men—seducing them for the latter part of the night.
When you and Seungcheol stepped further in, some of those feline eyes latched onto the man beside you. You glanced at him, but he was looking straight at Councillor Choi and the Doge of Venice, sitting at the very back of the hall.
Soonyoung was in the middle of the anarchy, cackling at some far-away anecdote of his cousin’s, downing a flute of wine before catching sight of you both. His smile lit up his entire face as he stumbled near you both, hands raised wide.
“Lord and Lady Choi!” he exclaimed to the crowd, his straight black locks matted with sweat—no doubt from the constant running around, acting the best, drunk host. “An honour to have you both here under my roof!”
He then hiccupped, leaning closer to you. “Well, my father’s more like, but what is his is bound to be mine!”
You straightened him with your free hand. “Soonyoung, you should be banned from ever drinking again.”
“God, what a spoilsport!” He rebuked, sliding his mischievous gaze to your husband. “General, you must silence your boring wife at once!”
The said man clicked his tongue. “The day I manage to shut her up is the day I truly deserve every medal ever awarded to me.”
You shot him a glare. “Hand those medals back to the people then,” you hissed. “I have yet to be silenced.”
The esteemed commander then turned to your friend. “See?”
Soonyoung spluttered into laughter, patting Seungcheol a bit too enthusiastically on the shoulder. “By God, you are not the vision dear _____ painted of you!”
That had the famous eyebrows raising. “Oh?” the man beside you got out, and you could feel the feline amusement radiating off his skin. “And what image has she created of me?”
You immediately glowered at the drunkard, but he only beamed at the two of you, holding you each by the opposite shoulder. “Now, dear general,” he began, slurring his words, “No matter how much I admire you, you cannot make me say the awful, dirty things my friend has said of you.” He winked at you, pulling away. “You may ask her yourself!”
He then sighed dreamily, as if he sat down beside a fireplace after an extremely long day. “Please do enjoy, friends,” he declared, gesturing to the servants with the wine.
His stare then lingered on Seungcheol as he finished, “And do not forget to dance!”
With a theatrical bow, he was swept away by a dazzling courtesan who was worth more his attention than the Victor of Venice and the Doge’s daughter.
You let out a sharp exhale. “I will poison Soonyoung’s wine next time.”
Seungcheol wasted no time. “So he would die before confessing the awful, dirty things you have said about me?”
“Oh, please,” you snarled, “Everything I have complained to them about I have said to your face.”
“Is that so?” His interrogating glint had you gripping tighter onto his arm. “Then why try to silence him when he was about to reveal the secret?”
“Because he is a liar,” you merely responded, as if you, too, were not exaggerating. In full honesty, Soonyoung was constantly lying, but he would have been irritatingly honest if he tattled on you.
The general was not letting you go that easy. He was ready to bombard you with more questions when the music began to change, and everyone was partnering up. Space was created in the middle of the ballroom, and the energy of the entire manor changed, excitement bouncing off every side of the massive hall.
Confused, you looked around, and saw Councillor Choi heading over to you, red robes glinting in the lamp lights. Instantly, you bowed your head. “Signor,” you greeted.
He smiled, returning your address. “Good evening, child.” His gaze turned to his nephew. “Seungcheol.”
“Uncle.”
The curt welcome had you shifting. You tried to make conversation. “I hope you have not tired of the celebration.”
“No, no, _____, especially now everyone is about to dance.” Again, he focused on his relation. “I hope you two will also join in.”
That was enough to make you perk up in surprise. “Oh?” You slipped out, but then realised he was fully serious.
The general, on the other hand, was much more direct. “I have no wish for dancing tonight, thank you,” he replied, looking ahead to the forming couples in the middle. “In fact, I think it is late enough—”
“Whatever do you mean?” Councillor Choi interrupted, raising a hand. “Cheol, you have been married for little over a month. Do your poor wife the honour of a dance this evening.”
You tried to intercept. “Signor, I am perfectly fine, I do not wish—”
“Nonsense!” He then gestured to the final round of formation, the musicians ready to begin the waltz. “A bride and groom should always dance in these celebrations. Especially if the celebration is done in their honour.”
He locked his hands behind his back. “Go, child,” he then directed to you. “At least do one waltz.”
Still hesitant, you turned to the general, whose iron stare was rooted to his uncle. You wondered whether he was going to refuse outright, amplify the awkward atmosphere permeating their group.
Then, his free hand was lifted.
It held on to yours which gripped his arm. He slid your hand onto his left one, interlocking his fingers. The silver ring on his pinky was achingly cold.
Your eyes widened at the contact, but Seungcheol did not return your shocked stare. “Let us dance,” he said, and led you to the middle.
On instinct, people parted to make way for the Victor, stunned at seeing him dance for the first time. Whispers of excitement spread throughout the ballroom, but you were fixated on the slender fingers, intertwined with yours.
The strange feeling did not leave as he led you, right in the centre of the partners, as expected of the most important man in the party. He raised your interlocked hands; his other hand slithered around your waist, and you almost let out a cry of surprise at the way he pulled you closer.
This time, his eyes finally focused on you.
“Put your arm around me, _____, or everyone will discover our fraudulent marriage.”
You would have argued against it, but there was something deeply unsettling in his gaze. This time, you let the order slide, bringing your hand to his shoulder, lined with fur.
With a single nod to the musicians, the general began the entertainment.
The loveliest, liveliest music filled the golden hall.
The lute players, despite their drunkard stupor, played most harmoniously as Seungcheol’s feet followed the tune, leading you slowly about the circle. Stunned, you quickly followed along, glancing down to make sure his boots did not stomp on your low-heeled shoes.
“Are you surprised that I can waltz?” he asked, finally sensing your catchup.
Once you were sure you would not stumble, you looked up at him. “I am, actually.” You then scoffed. “I suppose you were not always killing poor civilians while you were gone.”
“You do know I have never killed an innocent,” he remarked. “I only fight men I see on the battlefield.”
“You men and your wars,” you ranted, gripping harder onto his shoulder. “It is merely an excuse to kill without punishment.”
That had the man frowning as he circled you about. “What do you think I did every day while I was abroad?”
Mocking a ponder, you answered, “Wasting the Republic’s time and resources?”
His laugh was a mere huff of breath. “And what did you do while I was away?” he asked. “Complain about me, rant about my achievements as you painted your silly pictures?”
That had your mirth faltering. “How do you know that I paint?”
His lips twisted in a wry smile. “I could smell the oil pigment on your clothes whenever I had to talk to you.” He scrunched his nose. “God, even after all these years, I cannot forget the scent. It is almost like I can smell it now.”
Damn it! “So what if I partake in an interest, Seungcheol? Art is an excellent pastime to indulge in.” You raised your chin. “I would take a painting over a severed prisoner’s head as a prize anyday.”
The man shrugged. “And I, too.”
Your brows furrowed. “What?” He asked, admiring the finery of the Kwon Family ballroom. ��Can I not enjoy painting?”
“Well,” you started, quite at a loss for words. “You have never mentioned that you like art.”
“That is because, dear _____,” he mused, twirling you around with one hand before bringing you back in his arms, “The only thing we talk about is how much we despise each other.”
Your hand was back on his shoulder—this time you held on tighter. “It will stay that way, Cheol.”
His fingers drummed on your back, along to the tune. “Of course.”
You let the conversation rest for a while, your and your husband’s steps working in perfect accord with each other as the music heightened, crossing over to its second half. The partners, all circling around you, were joyous, excited as they whispered sweetly to the other, amorous in their exchanges.
The great general and the Doge’s daughter, on the other hand, had other prospects in mind.
You, mainly, with a question that bothered you for a time. “Why did Councillor Choi insist we dance?”
Seungcheol exhaled sharply. “Because he is unconvinced that we are madly in love with each other.”
“An excellent intuition.”
He frowned, silent once more. That was not enough for you. “Has he done something to you?” you pressed.
The man regarded you for a moment. “I will tell you if you tell me what Soonyoung was going to say.”
“You are truly insufferable!” you huffed, turning your head away. “Stay curious! You will never know.”
“All right,” he said, the curiosity still present. “You can tell me where you sneak off to every time we attend a party.”
You froze.
An amateur move, when the man was still leading the dance. Stumbling into him, both your hands held onto his large frame, making him pause. With great efficiency, his hands stayed on your waist, sweeping you along in the circle before anyone noticed.
“Judging by your reaction, I assume it is somewhere shocking.” His eyes narrowed. “Somewhere you do not want anyone following after you.”
Your endeavoured to feign innocence. “I have no idea what you speak of.”
He laughed, and the vicious joy in it had you growing in rage. “Lying is a sin, carissima,” he stated, as if he himself was a leading angel of God. “Confess your wrongdoing, and maybe I will forgive you should you show me.”
“You are not a priest,” you snapped, “I will stick to confessing to God over an arrogant soldier.”
His amusement grew with your anger. “And you are not a nun, but you played the part so well, costume and all!” His fingers tapped against your back, sending a strange sensation down your spine. “Perhaps I should invest in church robes.”
“Let me add to my sins then.” You knifed him with a withering glare. “Rot in hell, Seungcheol.”
This time, his laughter was sudden.
Spluttering out of him without his usual restraint, it left the constraints of the dancing circle, many people smiling at the sound. You were a little taken aback, almost stepping on his boots at the lack of focus. You watched his eyes crinkle, laugh lines morphing on his skin, and you closed your mouth, simply taking in the image.
You had never seen the general laugh like that.
As he finished into soft chuckling, his one hand left your side, clutching onto your hand on his shoulder. “I am flattered to see you bear bad deeds for me.” He raised your hand out, fingers cradling your palm. “It makes me forget that you run off to some dark, decrepit place in the middle of the night.”
You halted his fingers with your own, tightening the grip. “It is nothing of what you suspect,” you muttered. “Not that it is any of your business.”
His eyes darted over your features—the furrow of your brows, the determined glare, the pursed lips. They stayed there a fleeting second. “It is my business that you are safe wherever you go.”
“Since when did you care for my safety?” you challenged. “You should be happy if I was away from you. Found dead even. Do you not want your freedom?”
The music grew louder, nearing the crescendo. The people around you were waltzing faster, but the general was a mile ahead, feet quickening, urging you to follow. “I would have been overjoyed once,” he jeered, spinning you once again, faster and faster.
He then caught you, never stopping his feet, always on par with the drama of the tune which did not wind down. “But things have changed. My father-in-law is the most important man in Venice.” Another twirl, another swift catch. “I am tied to a family that is constantly under scrutiny from other jealous lords. Most importantly—”
His hand on your back jerked against you, pushing you closer.
“You are my wife, now.” His whisper had goosebumps forming. “Your safety has become my greatest concern.”
You parted your mouth.
You wished you had a snide remark to throw back at him. Anything mean, even a shrivel of cruelty to shatter the bubble he had created this very minute. It was not as if you cared what he thought. You did not ask for his concern.
Then why was the thought of someone’s concern for you so comforting?
The crescendo of the music was upon the ballroom, but the couple in the centre had slowed. Seungcheol sensed your mind in disarray, as loud and dramatic as the instruments, but he did not want to let this go. Something about your particular secret bothered him.
The meagre distance between you two did not stop him. “Tell me where you slip away to, _____,” he urged, a strange look in his eyes.
God—you had to get away from him. Why could you not push him away? “I…” For the first time in your life, you had a hard time holding his stare. “I cannot.”
“Why?” His question sang in your ears. “What do you hide from me?”
This was all too much; his eyes were too honest, too concerning, and you wished for the man to terrorise you like old times. This kind of sweet torment was unbearable because you could not fight it.
Perhaps you would have told him. You could have exposed your deepest secret, and all would have been lost, and the man you despised the most would have learned your true passion.
Then the musicians ended their song, and the ballroom erupted into applause.
The thundering claps snapped you out of the bubble immediately. Once noticing the lack of distance between you two, you instantly recoiled from his presence, gaping at his stunned expression. You ripped your hands from his hold, and you saw his figure, breathing unevenly underneath the rich, fur robes.
What in God’s name had happened?
You did not ponder over the question.
The crowd dispersed, but the two of you remained in the same position.
It was after a long time when you composed yourself that you made to open your mouth. That you mustered a little cruelty.
“I may be your wife in God’s eyes,” you began, slowly backing away from him, “But I am free in my own.”
And as you stalked out of the ballroom, leaving the Victor of Venice on his own, you put a hand on your rapid heartbeat, breathing heavily.
I answer to no one but myself.
THE NEXT TIME, YOU WERE HESITANT IN SNEAKING OUT.
Another week had passed since that fateful night—the night where the general let a few heavy truths slip from his tongue, and trapped them within your mind.
Just the memory had your heart racing, and it was not from the trek, from the new party location to your studio. You cursed yourself multiple times at letting yourself become so vulnerable in that moment, but what else could you have done? That was the first time Seungcheol had been so candid.
You are my wife now. Your safety is my biggest concern.
You shivered involuntarily.
To Hell with him! To think you were going to confess your sanctuary to him—you would have never forgiven yourself should that have happened.
As you approached the workshop door, you pushed it open—empty, just as you hoped. Amazing.
Your near-finished painting welcomed you as you relit the candles from last night, running to every candle where the wax was located. Snuffing out the burning wood, you walked back to your easel, assessing the image.
The figures were ready to be painted in detail, so that meant a dozen more layers, more nights of work. This did not worry you, though, when the parties to escape were endless. You had all the time in the world.
You were about to pick up your paint brushes, scattered on the side, when a voice resonated behind you.
A snarling voice which had your entire world pausing.
“So this is where you run off to.”
Silence.
Every single bone in your body stilled. Like the unfinished statues that surrounded the room, you were motionless, stunned by the familiar, husky baritone that was haunting you all week.
Somehow, you managed to turn around.
Your eyes then broke the statuesque spell, widening.
There he was, the devil cloaked in midnight, the very man you wished to avoid as he regarded you with the strangest expression on his face. The hairs on the back of your neck stood erect, your hands going numb under his scrutiny. It was so unusual—undoubtedly, there should have been anger, deep, red rage simmering under his features, but there was something else stirring.
His own eyes were dazed at the surroundings.
His fur robes shuffled as he took a step forward, observing the lush artwork on his every side, ancient costume and dried up ink palettes scattered on the floor. The wooden pedestal, where the models would stand, was empty of life, emptier now that all life had been snuffed out in the general’s presence. He had no words to offer you as he examined your haven, the one sweet secret no one could discover.
But the general had discovered it, and he was not quite sure what to do about it.
When he was about five feet away from you, you managed to speak. Managed to make out the words, “What…what are you doing here?”
Seungcheol, surprisingly, answered your question. He could not believe it either, for he scoffed. “I was searching for you…at the ball, just earlier, and…” he paused again, sucking his lower lip. “Of course…I should have known.”
He then looked at you, and there it was—the fire that you expected—brimming underneath that demeanour. “I should have known that you would not listen to me.”
By God—that was enough to snuff out your fear. “What?” you began, covering your canvas with your back. “Listen to you? Why would I listen to you?!”
“Because I am your husband!” he exclaimed right back, forcing another step. “Because I should know where the hell you slither off to!”
“Oh, you just love throwing that word around, don’t you? Husband, husband, husband!” You cackled like a she-devil. “Why hide it? Say that you wish to lord over me!”
“_____, you ran away in the middle of the night!” He flailed his arms about in exasperation. “Wandering in the most dangerous parts of the city! And alone at that!” His hands curled into fists. “Did you not realise how stupid that was?”
“So what do you do?” You pointed at him. “Follow me like a pervert?”
“I was watching to see whether you were safe.”
“Safe!” you snarled at his word, crossing your arms. “I do not feel safe anymore. Not around you.”
His eyes narrowed. “How do I make you feel unsafe?” he guttered, stepping another foot, and you knew you hit a nerve. “What have I done to make you so miserable?”
“You, you…!” you started breathing heavily. “You have ruined my life!” Your chest was heaving, up and down erratically. “Marrying me when none of us wanted this! Expecting me to play the dutiful wife while you do whatever you want!” Your hand that pointed at the accused began to shake. “Even taking this studio away from me!”
Seungcheol could not believe his ears. “I have told you, I was forced into this damned union as much as you were!” he countered, another step taken. “I never said I wanted you to play the dutiful wife, I just wanted you away from harm!” He then gestured to the artwork. “And how the hell did I take this studio away from you when I was unaware of its presence?!”
“You will, you will!” you screeched. “You will tell father, and he will tear my paintings, destroy this room, and you will watch and laugh at the destruction!”
“Laugh? Laugh at you? What do you take me for?!”
“A tyrant!” Now your hands fisted at your sides, almost trembling. “You are the devil, Seungcheol, even if you have fooled all of Venice!”
He gritted his teeth, a sharp tick appearing in his jaw. You were riling him up—the tick was reserved only for prisoners of war, or the city’s traitors. “Maybe I should destroy your paintings.”
Your eyes widened, but you dared not show a streak of fear. “You would not dare.”
“Would I not?” he snarled, raising his hands to the unfinished artwork. “You can say whatever you want to me, but I am not given the same privilege?”
“You do not deserve any benefits from me,” you snapped back. “You have enough from all these people, worshipping you day and night! Still you bother me!”
“Because you are aggravating!” he then roared, and you could have sworn his voice could have brought down the studio roof. “You have tested my patience far too many times to let it slide! I have had enough!”
You laughed at him, and that made his blood boil. “And what will you do, Cheol?” You mocked, cradling your chin with your finger. “God, maybe you should tell Papa about the studio! Then he can lock me up, and I would not have to see you again!”
“That will not work, because I am tied to you! We are married! Forever!” He emphasised the last word. “I cannot get rid of you!”
“And whose fault is that?!” you demanded. “Whose fault is that, tell me!”
“You just don’t listen!” His breathing became shallow, hardened. “How many times do I say it so it stays in your head?”
Your nostrils flared. “I do not have to listen to you!” you shrieked, head pounding from rage. “I listen only to those who mean something to me, and you are nothing to me!”
Another step, and he was a foot away from you. “By God,” he began, knifing you with a glare that could have had armies fleeing. “You need to shut your mouth.”
You matched his deathly scrutiny. “What did you just say to me?!”
“I said…” he raised his voice, looking down at you, skimming between your blazing eyes and your parted lips. “You need to shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.”
That had your soul erupting into a frenzy.
You looked straight back up at him. The venom in your voice was unmatched.
“Or what?”
But the general did not answer you. No, he was still as the statues of your peers, save for his gaze, flickering between your lethal eyes, and your pursed mouth. Certain moments, they stayed a second longer on the latter.
His mouth parted at the sight. The sudden movement had your gaze darting to his lips, and suddenly your heart was pounding in your ears, and you could not decipher whether that was from the rage or the sheer bewilderment of the silence.
The quiet was deafening. The victor’s eyes were unbearable.
He could see right through you.
“That is what I thought.”
And then he turned on his heel, ready to depart.
You could have burst into flames.
“Fuck you!”
He paused.
You did not. The words were erupting from you, unable to stop yourself. “You are a coward, Seungcheol! You talk and talk and talk, but you do nothing!” your fingers pointed towards him, accusing in every sense. “You are just an insufferable, cowering bastard!”
Frenzied, you would have screamed and screamed till the sun stopped you with its new day, but another force beat it.
Another powerful, enraging force that whirled on his feet.
Like lightning, this unstoppable force thundered to you, and you did not even comprehend what he would do until he grabbed your face with both his hands and kissed you with the strength of a seastorm.
Nothing in the entire universe could have prepared you for this.
Your eyes enlarged, your breath extinguished, but he was moving upon your mouth—the sheer impact had you stumbling back, but he did not let go, cherishing the fervour that radiated off you. What riled you up further was your audacity, your nerve to slide your hands to his cloaked shoulders, fisting the rich, black fur.
His ring was cold on your cheek, but his lips were warm, soft despite the scar down its right, soft like the fire of a candle as it sparks to life. The second he felt you move against him, he angled your mouth, boosting your pleasure, and you could barely keep in the groan that tried to escape, gripping him tighter. What in God’s name were you doing, why were you not stopping this disaster before it truly spiralled—
But now he was opening your mouth with his own, and you were unable to stop the chaos as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. There must have been witchcraft at play, because you let him enter, whining as he pushed you back, empty easels falling to the floor, paintbrushes scattering, but Seungcheol did not care a bit, and to your shock you shared in his lack of care.
Damn him, damn him to hell and beyond, because his tongue swirled with yours, and he explored you, finding the origins for such bitterness, such hatred that lived in your body. You would never share your secret, but his search was so enticing that you let the chase continue. So ironic, how your tongues showed more harmony than you both had ever shared before.
He backed you against the wall of the studio, and the moment your shoulders hit the wooden panels you could not help breaking the kiss, gasping at the collision, the numbed pain that bloomed in your back. Seungcheol, the razor sharp general, bounced at the opportunity to pepper rushed, heated kisses along the corner of your mouth, down to the lines of your chin, trailing down and down your neck.
It was carnal—absolutely animalistic, the way he latched onto you with his searing lips, you near-ripping his clothes apart, completely unaware of what was happening, who you were letting devour you into a hysteria. The rush had sent you in a daze, and you would have let him uncover you before the dead eyes of the statues, and sparked life into them.
But then Seungcheol gasped out your name, and it all became too real.
“_____,” he whispered, voice rasping, but your eyes fluttered open.
Seungcheol.
Choi Seungcheol is upon you.
Choi fucking Seungcheol is untying your dress and you are letting him.
You almost lost your breathing, and not because of his kisses.
The same hands that held onto him like a lifeline turned flat upon the fur.
With all the strength you could muster, you pushed him off.
Pushed him with surprising power, because the man stumbled back, almost falling to the ground had he not quickly regained his footing. He was inhaling like a man deprived, and when his head whipped upwards his eyes were as wide as saucers.
You were the same—breathing in disarray, burning underneath your gowns, heartbeat thrumming in your ears.
He may have shown surprise, but you were positively horrified.
Instinctively, your fingers reached your lips. The sensation of his truly remained, singed upon the seams.
“_____?”
You were going to die.
You were going to disintegrate into the studio floor if you did not leave.
The general caught onto your intentions.
But he did not move.
Did not even raise a finger as he watched you burst into a sprint.
Sprint out of the studio, into the darkness of the Venetian street.
You did not know how you managed to run the distance between him and the Palace, but your legs were your saviours, picking up a faster pace through the closed markets, the dingy streets of the city till you reached your home.
Into the halls you raced, through the private chambers till you found your room, bursting through the door, slamming it shut as your back hit against its wooden structure.
In and out, in and out your wheezing went. Shuddered inhale, shuddered exhale, until you were sliding down on the door, hitting the floor.
An infinite thoughts came flooding in, nerves peaking at the discovery, heart racing at the consequences.
One question, however, remained the most prevalent.
What the fuck have you done?
YOU COULD NOT FORGET THE FATED NIGHT.
It was as if God had cast the bowels of Hells upon your life, scorching every thought and feeling in the form of Seungcheol.
Seungcheol. The very name had you shivering with rage, confusion, fear—new, strange sensations that had never been there before. You could not identify them, but they haunted you in the night, stopped you from your art, tormented your every waking second.
You could not figure out where that desire came from.
Desire. You despised the word, but you could not name it any other thing. You had always heard poems, reciting love and lust, but what of hatred? You did not love the general at all, but the way he had grabbed onto you, taken your lips prisoner and refused to set them free, caging you in his arms…that was not the work of love. That was not pure, innocent affection.
That was something incredibly dark and twisted that night.
Once again, despite your every effort, the general had bested you.
Not this time—never again!
These thoughts were an unwanted companion as you walked to the Doge’s private chambers, where your father and Councillor Choi were expecting you. The former had not seen you for a time, and invited you to lunch beside him after the end of his government session. He also mentioned wishing to speak to you about a certain matter, which sparked your curiosity. You would not have minded his presence had not other matters taken over your every thought.
The grand doors to the private residences opened, and you let your feet take you to the Doge’s quarters, ignoring the golden finery shining in every corner—from the painting frames, from sculptures of St. Mark and his winged lion, the Virgin Mary peppered in each scene.
Your knock on the grandest door of the vast hall was answered by its swift opening. Your father stood, smiling at your presence.
“Cara,” he greeted, bringing his hand on your head. “It is good to see you.”
You returned his beaming. “Likewise, Papa,” you said, entering his room.
Councillor Choi stood up at seeing you, dipping his head. “Good afternoon, _____.”
“Good afternoon, Councillor—” you stepped forward, about to greet him when the seat beside him was exposed.
There sat Seungcheol, and your voice was gone.
Disappeared entirely, when seeing him leaning back, folded leg over the other, blood-red velvet cloak covering his knees. He was clad in his military armour, but his medals were on display, stuck on his dark grey breast, jingling with every soft movement. Half of his hair was tied back, his locks still managing to brush his neck.
You finally dragged your eyes to his face, and all the memories threatened to return.
Unfortunately for you, the general caught onto your change of countenance immediately. His lips curled upwards.
“Afternoon, dear wife,” he mused.
Bastard.
You would have said it out loud, but your father and the uncle were there, and you would never live it down. “Afternoon,” you clipped instead.
He would have said more, but the Doge interrupted him. “My dear, such an icy greeting!” He looked to his commander. “Have you done something to her?”
“I do not think so.” He gestures his gloved hand to you. “Why not ask her, Your Excellency?”
He glanced at you—the glint in his eyes had your throat burning.
Your father now addressed you. “Cara?”
Today was not the day to humour him. “I am fine, Papa, just tired.” You locked your hands together. “Is something the matter?”
“There is a matter of great importance actually.” He pointed towards the empty seat alongside your husband. “Please, do sit.”
Souring, you obeyed, settling your gowns. The man observed your movements with a single glance, but you ignored him. “Do tell us the news,” you said.
The Doge, sitting in his own golden seat, waved a hand to the general. “As you know, your esteemed husband had won us a major battle against the Ottomans,” he explained, as if you had not heard of this story a hundred times already. “As the most important commander in our arsenal, it is only right to bestow him with a cultural gift to celebrate his victory.”
The councillor chimed in, seated bedside his nephew. “I heard from your father that you have a great interest in the arts. We were wondering if you could recommend us a few artists in demand as of late, so we can commission a portrait.”
“A portrait?” You thought for a moment, locking your hands on your lap. “Well, Titian is the classic portraitist. I have heard of his high-priced commissions, but he never disappoints. Lotto is all right, but I prefer Veronese’s work.”
The two elders were humming to your suggestions, but the young man cleared his throat.
“You do not need to think over who will make the portrait. I have already decided on the artist.”
Councillor Choi was intrigued. “Is that so? And who is the esteemed man?”
Seungcheol ghosted a smile. “The esteemed woman is right beside us.”
He then brought a hand upon yours, and locked his decided stare with yours.
“_____ will paint me.”
Three pairs of eyes whirled to the man who let the declaration pass.
Yours exposed the greatest shock amongst them all.
“Whatever do you mean, Seungcheol?” Your father got out, confused beyond question.
The councillor looked as if he was going to laugh. “Perhaps it is the budding affection between the two that compelled him to say this.”
You immediately shut that down. “I have no idea what he meant by that,” you remarked, now turning to your father. “I think you should choose Titian.”
But the general’s hand tightened on yours, his gaze never leaving yours. “Well, why not?” he asked, cocking his head. “His Excellency did tell me that you delved into a bit of painting before.”
“Yes, but it was long ago,” you hissed, retaining a smile to ward off the elders’ suspicions. “I have abandoned the practice altogether.”
He huffed out a gasp, squinting his eyes, and you knew the horrid man was up to something truly horrendous. “Oh, that is not good at all. I shan’t have my wife missing out on her interests.”
Focusing on the Doge, he continued. “I know the two of you are wary, but I want my portrait done by her. If she does not exceed the Council’s expectations, then her plan can be sent to Titian, and he can recreate her vision.”
He paused, staring at the powerful man in the room with utmost charm, and that was it—he had won another victory. “This is a wish from your dearest commander, and son-in-law. I hope you will humour me this once.”
You watched with horror as the Doge of Venice smiled, waving the two of you off. “Oh, I suppose we can try this out.” A glance towards the councillor. “How do you feel about this?”
The said-man observed his nephew, a strange expression staining his aged features. “I mean, this portrait is supposed to be an important piece for the Palace mantle…it is for establishing your importance in our military, after all…” he shrugged, bringing his long, red sleeves together, hiding his hands. “But it is Seungcheol’s painting.”
“Exactly.” He patted your hands, the smugness reaching his feline gaze. “And I want my wife to make my first portrait.”
Oh, you were going to kill him.
Retracting his touch, you crossed your arms. “I have not touched a paintbrush for years, and you expect me to make a victory portrait? You all should have less faith in me.”
“Nonsense! I have the utmost faith in your skills.” The twinkle in his eye had you gritting your teeth. “It was only yesterday, do you not remember, when we were discussing how you wished to paint more often.”
“I do not recall such a conversation,” you muttered.
“How easily you forget!” ” your husband mused. “This is why we must begin the process at once.”
He shifted to the elders. “You both rest easy. I will arrange everything. All you need to do is let _____ take the reins.”
“Father, do not listen to him!” you exclaimed. “I do not want to do this project!”
Well…it was not as if you did not wish to do this project—in reality, being able to paint without having to hide yourself was a dream come true, but you could not fight for that right now. Not when you had Seungcheol using your secret for his own entertainment, not when you could not take on such a task when looking at him was so painful—
“Cara,” the Doge scolded. “If your husband wishes for you to paint him, then you should not refuse him.”
Sighing sharply, expecting this response, you leaned back against the plush chairs, nails digging into your clothes. “Right. Of course. Listen to the husband. Obey his every command.”
You felt a nearby voice invade your mind. “Do not forget to worship the ground he walks on.”
You did not bother to deign Seungcheol a glare.
“Then it is settled!” your father looked at you. “Good luck, _____! Let us see how a woman will complete this difficult task.”
Smiling weakly, you stared ahead at the paintings before you in the chambers. As the two politicians discussed the prospects, you observed the image—the depictions of war, the angels and roman gods, in love and in hate and all involved in chaos.
There was no way you were sneaking out of this project.
THE PAINTING PROCESS WAS SET UP IMMEDIATELY.
The Doge first suggested setting up an entire studio for your needs, but Seungcheol insisted on a place ‘he was already familiar with’. Of course, he meant your studio.
You would have died before exposing your studio to the elders, but the general was smart. He assured your father and Councillor Choi of finding a safe, artistic space for you to begin your work, where the two of you would not be disturbed. They were satisfied, understanding that you would be under his care, and left the project in his hands.
It was disastrous.
You had foolishly thought once he had caught sight of your secret, he would have been content with the outcome, and left you alone. The bastard, however, had not left your side. Even when you left the Doge’s Palace with the sun just setting, enough light to guide you on your way to your haven, you thought you would be rid of him. He was not at the workshop door, slightly ajar against its harsh, stone walls.
Once you went inside though, it was a completely different picture. Candles had lit up the studio, unfinished statues set aside and half-charcoaled sketches plastered on the walls. Your friends were standing in a scattered circle, easels before them, sketching away.
What they sketched had your mouth dropping open.
The all-too familiar model sat on a wooden chair upon the pedestal, gazing at the distance as he posed for your friends. Tonight, he was adorned in something different—his usual Venetian general-armour had been glorified in Roman centurion-robes, golden plated torso armour, blood-red cloak covering his shoulders and falling to his feet. The tunic beneath the armour stopped just below his thighs, and so gave a perfect view of his legs, sculpted from years of military service. The sandal-boots were tied up to his calves, golden gauntlets on both arms. A spear was held in his right hand, and a red-tousled helmet laid on his lap, his midnight curls remaining half tied, half wildly loosened at his neck. The scar on his lip was more prominent as he posed, exposing a war-like seriousness only a god could muster.
Which was perfect, really, considering who he was posing as.
Minghao heard your footsteps, and smiled. “Ah, _____!”
Seungcheol, hearing your name, broke out of his stance. He greeted your surprise by pointing at you with his spear. “I have been expecting you for the past three hours.”
“What are you talking about?” You immediately snapped, setting your satchel down. “Actually, what the hell are you doing here?”
“_____, is this how you talk to your general?” Soonyoung chimed in, who was right next to Minghao. “Your husband?”
You rolled your eyes. “You better not start, of all people!”
“I was waiting for you to come here so we could begin my portrait.” The general sighed, shaking his head. “It seems you do not take such precious opportunities as seriously as I thought.”
“I have been meaning to talk about that,” you began, walking up to him, stepping up to the pedestal, glaring at him.
He looked up at you, faking innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You know what I mean!” you tried to keep your voice to a seething whisper so the others could not hear. “Why are you forcing me to make your painting?”
“I am not forcing you to do anything.”
“Yes you are!” You put your hands to your hips. “Especially after you made it clear to Papa and Councillor Choi that only I can do it and no one else. You know I cannot refuse their approval!”
“I think they would jump on this chance,” he countered. “Last time I remembered, they did not approve of a noblewoman painting whatever she wishes, whenever she wishes.”
“Why are you getting me in trouble then?” You let out a scornful noise. “God, it is so typical of you.”
Breathing sharply through his nose, Seungcheol brought his spear and helmet down, slowly standing up. You blinked back as you took in his height, retaining your exasperation.
“Do you know why, _____…do you understand why I requested your name for the official portrait?”
You refused to back down from his stare. “Enlighten me.”
He looked at you for a few moments longer. Then, his gaze strayed beyond you, focusing on the artists who spent hours sketching him.
“My dear friends,” he addressed, “I am honoured at you all drawing me as Mars, but I must make a request.” His hand travelled around your waist, and the feeling had your stomach somersaulting. “My wife is tasked to paint me, and I hope you will allow us the use of this workshop.”
Everyone was in agreement, especially your two friends, who were waving off the general’s request.
“Who are we to refuse the Victor of Venice?” Soonyoung declared, dusting off his navy-blue tunic. “As for _____, I am overjoyed that you were selected for the portrait.”
“Does this mean the Doge finally knows of your secret studio?” Minghao inquired, sliding his easel away. “It is about time all of us ceased sneaking around.”
“Not quite…” You glanced at your husband, souring your voice. “Seungcheol here found out, but he will behave and not tattle on us.”
“I hope not, dear general,” Soonyoung agreed, nodding his head towards you. “We have heard about your history of betrayals from _____ many times.”
“Is that so?” You felt his interrogating stare on you. “Worry not, Soonyoung, Minghao. I shan’t tell a soul.”
“Good.” Minghao dusted his hands, standing beside the elder. “If this place is exposed, then all of us cannot meet again. It is bad enough hiding the Doge’s daughter from doing what she wishes. It would be a scandal if the public found her painting with artists outside of the nobility.”
Seungcheol furrowed his brows. “But are you both not nobility?”
Soonyoung exposed a wry smirk. “Yes, but we are men, thank the Lord!” He wrapped his arm around his friend. “Hao and I can escape should we are ever caught, but dear old _____…well…”
You clicked your tongue, addressing the people beyond the party. “Thank you, dear artists! You may go now.”
While the rest began to take their leave, your friends exchanged a glance, indicating their departure. “We should head out too,” Minghao said, turning on his heel. “I hope she does your reputation justice, general.”
The elder of the two put a hand on the commander. “If she paints you as a troll like she promised us, Lord Choi, then you can always ignore the consequences and expose her secret!” He laughed at your sneering gasp. “What? You would deserve it for ruining his beautiful face!”
“Get out,” you ordered, pushing him in Minghao’s direction. “Or I will bring you both down with me.”
“But I did nothing!” the younger complained, taking his belongings from the entrance. “God, you both are going to get me in so much shit!”
Your two friends kept on grumbling, waving hastily at you before leaving the workshop. The rest of the artists followed suit, every single one dipping their heads in respect for the man beside you. With the last one out, the heavy wooden door fell shut.
Silence fell on the dimly-lit studio.
You swivelled around. He was looking straight at you.
The heartbeat, settled before, beat a little louder.
Seungcheol broke the deafening quiet with his voice. “You have your space now.” He gestured towards the empty easel. “We can begin.”
You stayed rooted. “You have not answered my question yet.” A pause. “Why are you making me paint your portrait?”
“Tell me what to do first.” He raised his hands wide. “I will explain once we commence.”
A sharp sigh escaping you, you turned your back on him as you reached for Minghao’s easel, sliding out his rough sketch and setting it to the side. The stretched canvases were already prepared for your use, so you grabbed the larger of the few, settling it on the easel. Seungcheol watched your quick movements—the grabbing of the red and black charcoals, bringing them upon a stool beside the easel.
With the red charcoal in hand, you set your eyes on the subject. “Sit back on the chair,” you said, pointing at the pedestal. “Under the lamplight. I need to sketch out your figure.”
As he followed your order, he rested on the wooden chair, legs spreading apart, tunic stretching. You fought the urge to admire his physique, staring at his face. “What about my clothes?” he asked, picking up the helmet. “I suppose you would eat your canvas before painting me as a god?”
“I can easily paint over your ridiculous costume,” you assured him, earning a snort from him. “Hold up the spear, though. I can use that as a template for your sword.”
As he obliged you, holding up the weapon, you took a deep breath, focusing your gaze over him.
It was time to start your biggest project to date.
This was not indulgent-mythological scenes, or rough landscapes, or even an accurate-Soonyoung-as-a-garden-troll painting. This was an official task, selected by the Senate.
You could not mess this up.
“Ready?” you asked him.
He did not answer your question.
“Are you?”
You nodded.
With your red charcoal upon the canvas, you began.
The process of sketching, for you, was as hard as the painting itself.
The dimensions, the perspectives—everything had to be taken into account. The way Seungcheol sat, the length of his arm as the hand gripped the spear, the space between his legs, and the positioning of his sandalled feet. The composition had to be orderly—you focused on his figure, forgetting the features of his face.
Fortunately for you—or a misfortune, considering your recent situation—his body was perfect. His muscular limbs, glowing in the candle lights, were ideal for your drawing. Seeing as you had only painted gods before, you never bestowed upon them human flaws. It was almost irritating to sketch out the swell of the general’s upper arms, the taut, burly thighs, a golden cuff wrapped around one leg. Sketching his slender fingers which settled on that leg, the silver ring on his pinky shone with each flicker of a movement. Your charcoal captured the hazy details, you not wanting to be too specific.
But then you focused on his face, and your countenance soured completely.
A sly remark came from the model. “Why the horrid face, _____?”
You glanced at him.
You had refused to ever acknowledge such terrifying information. You tried to avoid the age-old truth, but as you began to sketch his face, you could not escape it.
He was so utterly, disgustingly beautiful.
His mane of half-tied black locks, framing the face which had you capturing every stray curl, every strand which hugged his neck. The sharp arch of his brows, the dark, mysterious eyes that sheltered underneath them—the lashes that curled, the slight upward curve of his nose as it descended till his mouth stole the show, their cherry colour staining the plains of his lips. The scar he gained in some long-ago battle cut through on the left side of his mouth, but that only added to his character, accentuated his military prowess. This scar widened as he smirked at you, his laugh lines dimpling his otherwise flawless skin.
Your charcoal darkened as it stayed on the sketched lips.
You tried your best to shut him up. “I am struggling to draw your ugly face.”
The laugh lines deepened. “Your arm was moving quite fast, dear wife. I say you have captured me perfectly.”
Your laugh lines were nowhere to be seen. “You are supposed to stay quiet.”
“Not really.” His hand drummed against his thigh. “I was having lovely conversations with your friends as they sketched me. They seemed to have no problems.”
“Well I work differently,” you spat, trying to chalk out his eyelashes. It was awful how you could capture the mischief of his eyes on the canvas. “If you were having such lovely conversations with my friends then you should have had them make your portrait.”
“I did not want your friends. I wanted you.”
You paused.
Looked at him, that mischief snuffing out.
“I want…you.”
The blood rush was creeping back.
You were almost unable to say anything to him. How could you, though, when he was looking at you like that again, the same stare which caused such anarchy in this very workshop. Second-long memories flashed into your mind, and you had to shake your head hurriedly to wave off the sounds of hitched breaths, burning touches, aching lips.
A voice managed to get out. “Why…why did you want me?”
As the artist, you reminded yourself. As his portraitist. Nothing else.
It seemed like he was bound to ignore your question again, and you swore your anger was never going to leave with this man.
Then, his voice broke all silences.
“I did not want you to paint secretly anymore.”
You gawked at him.
He brought his spear into his lap. “Do you know what my first thought was, when I entered this studio for the first time?” He jerked his head at the surroundings. “Saw your artwork?”
His small smile was stained with sadness. “I thought you were one of the finest artists in the Italian peninsula.”
The charcoal in your hands dropped to the floor.
But you did not care that moment, that specific second when you heard the last of Seungcheol’s words, when they entered your ears, settled in your heart.
No one had ever said such a thing to you in your entire life.
Of course, your artistic colleagues had always provided positive feedback. Hell, even your friends sang praises of every painting you gifted them. But that was different—they were people you liked, people akin to your interests.
This was a man you had despised as long as your memory served you.
It was strange, how something inside your chest expanded the longer his words hung in the air. It was not as if you cared for his opinion. You enjoyed doing the opposite of what he demanded, thrived off his anger, his rage by your hands.
The general watched your expression change, and he did not understand why that made his own chest lighter. “I…” He tried to carry on. “I…I could not have you hide your art, _____…I could not be at peace knowing…knowing I was suppressing your talents. No one deserves that.”
He gestured to the canvas. “It is why I made you do this.” His hands locked together on the spear’s shaft. “I do not know how the art world works, but at least it will expose you to the public. People can see the portrait. They can realise how good you really are.”
A pause. “You would not have to sneak away anymore.”
Sneak away from him.
With that, he quietened, waiting for your response.
You could have collapsed to the ground.
This was not Seungcheol—this was not the stone-cold, rude, sword-up-his-arse general that you clashed with in every interaction. This was not the man who had ruined many memories of your childhood. This was another man entirely, a sheep in wolf’s clothing.
You scoured his gaze for any element of ridicule. Anything, even a speck of mockery to tear his confession down. To your utmost shock, you did not find a trace of anything.
Only raw sincerity.
Your hairs stood on the back of your neck, unaware of what exactly to say to him. It did not help either that his gaze was so unnerving—it was like he knew what his words were doing to you. You hated that.
Breaking his stare, you knelt down, grabbing onto your red charcoal. You hated that he was watching your every move, the slight shake in your hands as you observed your progress—the face. Yes, the face was done, but his lips needed reworking.
A sigh left you.
You hated that you could not hate him for his words.
The charcoal grazed the paper, your eyes travelling to the feature that needed redoing.
You hated how he watched you pause. You, pushing the charcoal deeper in the canvas, did not realise it as you observed his mouth parting, ever so slightly.
His tongue poked out— it slid along his lower lip. Foolishly, like the greatest simpleton, you parted your own mouth, blinking at his movements. You watched his tongue slip back in, scarred lip now glistening.
His lips then curled upwards, and you blinked again, realising your mistake.
He had just seen you staring at him like a woman starved.
God, you hated Choi Seungcheol.
“Stop doing that to your lips!” you hissed, almost breaking your charcoal from the sheer push inside the canvas.
The general cocked his head. “Stop looking at my lips, then,” he merely said.
You were going to murder him—gut him alive, and paint his bloodied corpse. “I have to look at them, I am drawing you!”
“You have been looking at them far too often,” he insisted, and you realised he was toying with you. “God, the canvas must have been shredded by now!”
“It is fine, just stop talking!”
“I must have a look,” he declared, getting up from his position.
That had you panicking. “Choi Seungcheol, if you do not sit down I swear I will quit this portrait!”
But he was never one to listen to orders when he had spent his entire life giving them out.
Down the pedestal he went, walking to you, and you had to turn away as he grabbed onto the easel, standing in front of it.
One of his perfect eyebrows shot upwards.
The progress was excellent—there was little doubt that you exceeded in portraiture. His seated figure was sketched accurately, despite it only being the rough drawing, his raised hand holding the spear, sketched as a sword on the canvas.
What caught him off guard was the face.
Every detail of his features was sketched lightly but the crimson shade of his mouth, layered and layered to perfection. He could instantly tell that you had been going over and over the feature like a madman, forgetting everything else as soon as you focused on it. His scar was cut through beautifully, and the red charcoal almost enlivened his mouth.
He could not contain the complacent smirk.
You, on the other hand, could feel it on your back.
“Do not,” you gritted out, “Say a word.”
Seungcheol could not help himself. “What?” he began, and you could hear the pomposity of his voice. “You obsess over my mouth, but cannot hear what comes out of it?” A step towards you. His presence was near, too near. “Now you know that is not fair.”
“Oh my God—”
Swivelling around, you almost yelped to see him so close. Tilting your head up, you looked at him, taking a step back. “That is…normal when making a portrait,” you countered. “You would not know because you do not make art.”
“That is true.” He snuffed the distance again with another step forward. “But what I do know is your nature.” His gaze darted down. “You are obsessive, dear wife. You focus on one thing, and delve fully into it.”
His eyes stayed on your mouth. “Your art speaks your truth. And that truth is that you have not forgotten that night.”
That night.
The night where you and Seungcheol collided like two opposing warships, crashing into the sea in harmony.
You tried to remain stubborn. “You talk nonsense.”
“Do I?” he asked you, and you could not answer him, not when he was so close. “Tell me you have forgotten. Say you have not thought about it once, and I will not speak of it again.”
“I have not thought about anything,” you snarled, but you averted your gaze, sliding to the canvas—to the crimson mouth.
He was not having it. “Look at me and say it.”
“I do not want to look at you.”
But he raised a finger to your chin, and the sheer force of his pointer had you turning your head. You were met with his fierce stare, and widened yours a little.
“You choose not to listen to me…every single time, huh?”
His finger moved ever so slightly on your chin. “How do I get this…this stubbornness out of you?”
You drank in his every detail as if you were sketching him. “You cannot. I will always do the opposite of your wishes.”
“Fine.”
He moved in, and his nose brushed against yours. You could feel his breath on your skin.
“I wish you to walk away.”
You paused—felt the satisfactory smile ghost his lips, only for a second.
“Will you do as I bid you and be free of me?” His question was a mere whisper. “Or will you do as you please, and stay beside me?”
Your eyes fluttered, heavy-lidded as you weighed your options.
It was either obedience and safety from his clutches, or rebellion with your imminent downfall. The greatest double-edged sword of choice—you were quite at a standstill.
His order fanned your mouth. “I wish you to leave.”
The decision was made.
You would die before you obeyed Seungcheol.
“I was here the entire time. You came to me.” A momentary glance at the stage before you focused on his stare. “You leave.”
You watched him take in your order. You could not determine his response, and the anticipation gnawed at your insides. What was he thinking? Would he demand your exit? Why was he looking at your mouth instead of answering your question?
It felt like a million years had passed before he finally spoke.
“Fine.”
His finger left your chin.
“As you wish.”
He stepped away from you.
But you were blinking back, breathing a little too loud, because why did he follow through, why was he walking away when he was about to do something, something you were anticipating, something you dared not anticipate?
You turned to see him walking back, his steps echoing in the workshop.
Something extraordinary overcame you.
It was undoubtedly the forces that struck the general many nights ago that now plagued your nerves, your bones. Without realising what in Hell you were doing, your feet were moving, picking up a frightening pace that followed the leading footsteps. Your hands, with newfound strength, reached out, and with sheer tenacity grabbed onto Seungcheol’s arm.
He whirled back, surprised.
He did not have a single moment to demand explanation as your hands reached for his face, pulling him in a searing kiss.
Your lips latched onto his, and it was like a leash had been snapped in his soul. As hungrily as you had come onto him, he matched it, hand on the back of your neck as he tilted your head, delving deeper.
God save his soul—he could never admit it to you, but the night he pounced on you had been a memory he had not shaken off. He could not help it, but your mouth, shouting and sneering, haunted him. That night, a boundary had been crossed, but he wanted to face the unknown—the unknown that was you, your cruel words, and your hypnotic taste.
His mouth was relentless, offering no mercy as he preyed on your lips. He opened you wider, catching the moans that slipped out of you, moans you hated that escaped because it meant he was good, he knew exactly what he was doing.
His tongue slipped through, finding yours and humming at the way he played with it—he closed his mouth over your tongue, sucking slightly, and you could have burst into flames. You slid your arms around his neck, pushing him into you, needing him to engulf you entirely. Your blood simmered beneath your skin, your body hotter than a bonfire, but you refused to cool down. You refused a break when the general caught your lower lip, slowly sinking his teeth into the flesh.
There was so much of him. He was all over you, and you could not have wanted it more, savouring his fingers on your back, your neck, a sliver of skin should your awful dress let you. He was pushing you, your feet stumbling back and back and back, and the easel fell over, his canvas scattering to the floor.
You broke away from his heated kisses, gasping as you peered at the fallen artwork. “Th-the canvas!” You got out, then glaring daggers at the perpetrator. “Do you…!” A shuddered breath. “Do you not have eyes?!”
But then the look he returned had your heart pumping in your ears.
“I don’t give a fuck about the canvas right now.”
Despite your heart, you had the nerve to be irritated. “Of course you don’t,” you spat out, digging your nails into his shoulders. “Treat it however you want it, not like it is worth my entire—“
You did not finish your rant as Seungcheol, gritting his teeth, swooped in, shutting you up with his mouth. It was as if the little spat had never happened, with how quickly he settled on your lower lip, biting it enticingly enough to have you whining onto his teeth.
This time, rather than risk running into any more obstacles, the general swooped you up in his arms, never letting you expose your surprise as his mouth still worked upon yours, drowning out your gasp with his tongue. He led you to the stage, going up the steps until he laid you on the edge of the platform, he going down a step.
Sensing your lips receiving enough attention, he trailed his kisses to your chin, down your neck. Your breaths hitched with every touch, closing your eyes and feeling your heart burst from your chest.
He paused on the column of your throat, feeling his lips part, but then his teeth grazed your skin, and you hitched out an uneasy breath at the soft ache that blossomed. His tongue instantly ran over the tender mark, and the touch had you grabbing onto his hair, relishing the soft, velvety feel of his locks.
“God,” he whispered on your skin. “This…you’re driving me crazy.”
You would have let him talk had his hand not fallen to your skirts. With great urgency he hiked up the fabric, the hem rising from your boots, exposing your legs. Unfortunately, with one layer of your gown there were a thousand more underskirts. The general hissed out a curse. “You ladies and your fucking dresses,” he guttered, voice so husky you almost forgot your counter-quip.
Then, you realised what he was actually doing, and you had him pause. “Wh-why are you lifting my gown?”
He sighed sharply—all these questions, when he was too delirious to answer properly. “Why else would I lift your gown?”
Through your mind-haze, you felt a little confused. “You tell me, All-Knowing General.”
He was ready to snap at you when the realisation struck him properly.
You were a noblewoman—of course you would not know what happened between two people when they hungered for each other.
Something about that piece of knowledge had Seungcheol’s stomach curling in desire.
He was the first to show you just why certain men lifted certain ladies’ gowns—just why certain, lust-struck generals wished to uncover certain, ravenous Doge’s daughters, and relish in their undoing.
Dear Lord of the heavens.
“Seungcheol?”
The said-man perked up. “You have not answered my question,” you said, uncertainty lacing your voice.
But he was never the one to answer your questions properly, a notion that irritated you beyond reason.
However, when he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, you could have excused him.
Especially when he whispered, “How about I show you why, carrissima?”
Shivers ran down your spine, he recognising it instantly. He could not help lacing his smile with pride. “I promise it will be wonderful,” he purred, his words blowing softly in your hair. He kissed you just under your ear, and your eyes fluttered.
You were going to absolutely hate yourself when this was over.
“Go on,” you breathed out. “I will be the judge of that.”
“Good,” he added in before capturing your lips again, hands more urgent as he brought the last of the skirts up, the tufts of fabric bunching at your waist. Soon, he began his descent, mouth dragging down your neck, along your clothed abdomen till he broke away, uncovering the last of your underthings as he swiped them off your legs. Slowly, enjoying every second, he brought his hands to your legs, spreading them enough to settle between them.
A soft hiss escaped you as the cold air of the workshop kissed your core. Leaning against your elbows, you caught sight of his face.
It was as if he had found every treasure hidden under the earth.
His mouth had parted, blinking slowly, and you could have squirmed at the pure, unadulterated desire that radiated from his gaze. You had heard of lust before, of course you did, but to witness it in someone’s eyes—the general’s cold, unfeeling ones at that—was an achievement. It was a thrill.
“What…” you could not even manage to form sentences properly. “What are you…gawking for?”
The general did not respond.
He only dipped his head, pressing an ironically chaste kiss along your inner thigh. Instantly you quietened, and the silence had him chuckling upon your skin.
Looking over to witness your sheer embarrassment, his soft laughter twisted dark. “Don’t go all silent on me now,” he taunted, fingers drumming under your knees. “Not when I want you to be loud this time.”
The audacity of his claim had you pursing your mouth, ignoring the way his smirk had you slacking. There was absolutely no way on this earth that you would say a word, even if the sky would fall on your head.
Seungcheol then kissed a path closer to the final destination—his hair tickled your thighs, and it took everything in you not to sigh out, break your vow. The moment he went past the boundaries, though, there was no controlling it.
The moment his lips touched your slit, you felt yourself slip away.
His tongue slipped out, tasting your arousal, and he had to stop himself from going ballistic. Every insult, mockery and torment from you would be void to him. They would fall on deaf ears now that he savoured you—savoured you dripping for him. For him.
He explored the edges of your cunt, collecting your arousal like a man parched. Tingling sensations curled up your spine, gritting your teeth to stop yourself—not a word.
But then his tongue travelled further up, and when he trailed upon a certain spot you could not help yourself. A small gasp flew out of you, and you just knew the general had found the way to undo you.
The unfortunate situation for you—most fortunate, really, considering the pleasure you were feeling at the moment—was that Seungcheol knew exactly what he was doing.
He knew the bud that peaked—he was well aware that when he circled his tongue, slow, languid, as if he had all the time in the world, you would not be able to silence yourself. You would lose the war of reticence, the battle of calm—before you were his enemy, you were a woman.
A woman who could not even fathom what she felt.
Your core had its own heartbeat, and the bundle of nerves which received attention had it racing. The general was so awfully, terribly, terrifyingly good, his tongue patterning a loop around your clit. The vow of silence had been long broken, but the soft sighs were threatening to go louder, and it scared you that you did not care if you lost.
Perhaps you still could have held out—one last, hopeful shot at besting him.
Then he retracted from your cunt and you could have turned into a monster.
“What the fuck—!”
The blood was pumping slower, the absence upon your clit already aching to be filled.
With frantic eyes you glared at him; if looks could kill, Seungcheol would have been a brutal mess of bones and flesh.
The said-man, even with mere inches from your cunt, returned your stare. Despite the uneven breathing, his slick lips twisted upwards.
“I thought you said you were going to be silent.”
You could have killed him—truly. “I thought,” you rasped, backing up your gown further up, “You were going to show me…why I lifted my skirts.”
His hands roamed underneath your legs. “Have I not already?” With little effort he lifted your left leg, settling it on his right shoulder. “I just think you do not deserve it.”
Bastard. “Whatever you think you are doing…I have not felt a thing,” You lied, as if your cunt was not pumping along to your heartbeat.
His scoff was enough—unfortunately, he saw right through you. “Maybe your moaning was from something else, then.”
Your cheeks heated. “I did not moan.”
“Yes you did.”
“I did not!”
But then his finger ran along your slit, and he saw your eyes widen, mouth slacken. His manic grin, scar stretching, had your stomach fluttering. “Yes…” the finger slid in, just a little deeper, and your breathing hitched. “Yes, you did, carrissima.”
Oh, dear Lord.
You had to be in Hell—your skin was on fire, your senses were hazing, and the devil lay between your legs.
But if this was Hell, then why did you not despise it? Why were you promised misery, when all you were given was pleasure?
Why was Choi Seungcheol capable of giving you pleasure?
“If it pleases you,” you heard him say, lifting your other leg, “I am not finished.”
That had your body singing. “Is that so?” You whispered.
His chuckling fanned your cunt—you almost shivered. “Already so eager for me to continue?”
Bastard, bastard, bastard. “Eager for this to finish,” you taunted. “So you can stop wasting my time.”
His eyes blazed with your challenge.
When did the fire in his gaze become so enticing?
“You are going to eat your words, _____,” he warned.
“We will see about that—”
You did not get to finish your sentence as the general dove back in. His tongue found familiar solace upon your clit, and the pace which he encircled it with had you losing all sense. It did not help either that your legs were slung over him, so your balance depended on his wide shoulders, one hand holding onto your left.
His other hand had other plans.
While his tongue worked so perfectly upon the bud, his fingers roamed on the edges of your slit, teasing, tormenting, daring you to be shamelessly loud—you would not give in.
When he slithered a finger inside you, though, your mouth broke open.
A soft gasp escaped, feeling its slow journey, and your hand grabbed onto his hair, taking tufts of his velvet locks in a trembling hold. Your walls clenched around him, a mere finger doing this much damage.
But then he began to pull out, and the action alone had your voice stumbling louder.
His tongue was growing relentless—gone was the slow fluidity, vanishing with each minute, a bizarre hunger clawing at the general’s mouth. The attention on your clit, tied with the growing pace of his finger, sliding in and out, was driving you insane.
It was as if the vow never existed.
Your whispers, sighs and gasps gained a solid voice. The groans, so suppressed down your throat from your pride, climbed to the surface of your tongue. They were all you could express, the whimpers that freed from your mouth, when all your thoughts focused on one man.
This man fastened his pace even further, and you could not take it—your core was constricting, pressure settling in your hips, tendrils of tension curling up your spine. Your legs were shaking on his shoulders, and your arms had given up, your head laid on the pedestal stone. Your eyes were closed, images of his cold eyes upon you as he devoured you encircling your mind, and suddenly it was all too much.
Because this state had brought you a loss of coherent sentences, you called out the one name that you could not forget.
“Ch-Cheol—!”
Of course, the commander of Venice knew what to do.
He could feel you trembling upon him, under him. As his mouth worked overtime, his finger sliding in and out, he knew that you were close, so unbelievably close to absolution when you had no idea of how it felt.
Tonight, on the steps of the workshop stage, he would show you. With the dozen pairs of stone eyes watching the two of you, Seungcheol would give the statues a show.
He will spark their dead stone gazes to life.
He will spark your dead, stone soul to life.
The general sucked on your clit one last time.
That was enough for ruination.
You cried out, loud and shameless as you came, hips jerking without your control into him. As constricted as you were before, the balm of peace washed over you, as if you had weathered a storm and were now on the safety of the shore. You went limp as you rode through the new, euphoric feelings, finger inside you finally sliding out. You felt a small kiss on the bud before the absence was noted.
Breathing raggedly, chest heaving up and down, you had to take a minute before you had the strength to sit up. Excruciating as it was, when your eyes fluttered open, the sight that welcomed you had your core tightening all over again.
Seungcheol settled in between your legs as he slowly removed them from his shoulder, gaze upon you. His one slick middle finger glistened in the lamp light, and your focus strayed to its shine, courtesy of your lust.
Noticing, he ghosted a smile.
Your gaze followed the slick finger rise, up to the even slicker mouth. With painful, drowsy slowness, he wrapped his lips on the finger, sucking your remnants clean. Taking in the last of your arousal.
You blinked back—gulped.
With a pop! he released his finger. Hands holding onto your thighs, his heavy-lidded eyes held you prisoner.
His voice had you wanting to repeat the endeavours all over again.
“Tell me again that you did not feel anything.”
Your own voice failed to comply.
Deep inside, you knew—you could not lie anymore.
Not when you were completely undone by his hands, his tongue.
It was a great loss on your part.
Why did it feel more like a win?
“My my,” he mused, leaning upwards, eye-level with you. “Have I fingered you stupid?”
Seungcheol’s husky chuckling entered your ears. “Had I known this was the way to shut you up, I would have done it a long time ago.”
That had you perking up. “Of course you had to ruin it.” you got out, some sense finally returning your mind. “You could not have shut yourself up.”
“Oh?” He cocked his head. “Was there something to ruin between us?”
Damn, damn, damn! “That is not what I meant,” you seethed.
“How else did you mean it, then?”
You opened your mouth, but seeing his god-awful, victorious grin was too much. Your face burned as hot as the summer sun, and you had to suffer as the general laughed at your lack of response.
The absolute bastard. You knew that you had lost this battle, but your greatest consequence was that you did not feel it as a loss. What Seungcheol gave you just now…
You would die before admitting it to him, but you had never felt that wonderful as you did with his face between your thighs.
So you let him bask in his victory.
You tolerated his smug stares, dancing eyes, and rather soft laughter as your hand went to your chest, heart beating a mile a minute.
You could not answer him that night, but you asked yourself another question that only made it all the more difficult.
How have you let him win? As someone who would have rather been sent to the convent than see the general satisfied, how were you fine with his victory?
Why did you let him win?
That question you will keep unanswered forever.
Or as long as possible before you could not avoid it anymore.
A STRANGE ROUTINE HAD BEEN ESTABLISHED SINCE THAT NIGHT.
Almost every day you would find Seungcheol standing outside the studio, and without fail, he would comment on how he had been waiting oh so very long! You would only shake your head, and threaten to keep him out unless he shut his mouth. Of course, because he was insufferable, he would never keep quiet, so you would resort to sharp glares and melodramatic sighs.
The portrait was making great progress too, now that you had begun to paint the first layers. Thankfully, he had removed himself from his Roman-god garb, and now posed in his own military attire. Sometimes, he would come in everyday nobleman’s clothing if he was hurrying back from a Senate meeting. His outfit changes did not deter your painting, considering you had already planned out his armour onto the canvas.
It was shocking how much you preferred him in his midnight armour—you hated yourself for it, but you would catch yourself almost smiling whenever you were greeted with his crimson cloak, its ends moving in the summer breeze, or his medals tingling with his every move. The more you painted him in his soldierly might, the more you found yourself at awe with his image.
It was truly horrendous.
What was worse was that you were beginning to look forward to these sessions. It was unfortunate enough that you loved to paint, but to create a beautiful man on paper was something else entirely—it made you want to work harder on the painting, capture his every little detail to perfection. Furthermore, it was not just the general you had to please either—the entire Senate waited on your creation, expecting a portrait akin to the Venetian masters.
You had your concerns when it came to the patricians’ reactions. Already your father and Councillor Choi were displeased at you being chosen, and there was little doubt that they would be your harshest critics. One small mistake, one wrong choice, and your entire career would be over before it ever began.
You commented on this to Seungcheol the other evening as you finished the background of the painting. Truthfully, you were specifically planning to never speak to him about such concerns. Yes, you enjoyed drawing him, but that was where it ended. However, the general was painfully good at reading your countenance, and sensed your growing anxiety at every mention of the Doge.
He first thought to avoid the inquiry—the probable outcome was you replying to him with disdain, and then urging him to mind his business. That was what occurred in the past, and before he would have been damned to ask about your welfare.
That day, though, something in him urged the question out of him. He asked you, expecting nothing.
You were surprised to find yourself answering him.
“I just…I was thinking of my father and Councillor Choi.” You added the finishing touches on the ships floating in the lagoon, exposed from the imaginary window of the background. “You know, whether they would like the portrait.”
“Why would they not?” He fisted his hand which held his head. “There is a reason they accepted you.”
“That was because you persisted,” you countered. “They do not even know I have painted to this extent.”
“Come, now.” He straightened in his seat—you really wished he would stop fidgeting so much. “They were not going to follow through with my wishes simply because I demanded for you.”
“But they would,” you insisted. “You have influence over every politician in the Senate. Hell, you even influence my father! If you were to recommend an escort off the streets they would have obliged you.”
He almost sighed.
All the power in the Republic, but he could not attain the good opinion of one person whose influence mattered.
“You should remember, _____, that I would not have recommended you had you not been an excellent artist. The Senate will approve the portrait without opposition.”
You glanced up from the canvas—saw the sincerity in his stare. “I mean that,” he said.
It was strange how you did not doubt his words.
“Besides…” He relaxed back into the pose, tilting his head into his fist.
He broke the official expression by grinning. “The only opinion you should be anxious over is mine.”
You could not help the surprised burst of laughter. “Hmm…of course,” you got out, continuing on with your painting.
Seungcheol watched you chuckling every now and then, and his smirk softened.
It would have killed him to admit it to anyone, but a feeling of relief washed over him when you confessed your concerns.
The past few weeks had not been as horrendous as he had thought—as he had hoped. Granted, he was responsible for creating this arrangement, but he had doubts about how smoothly the process would go.
Mostly, he had doubts on how you would react with him when the two of you were alone.
Especially after that night.
The general exhaled sharply.
He was losing his mind. He did not understand how his entire identity was slowly crumbling. He prided himself on his restraint, his patience. It was why he won every battle he waged, obtained every request, demand and order from anyone he wished. He was powerful—unbeatable.
But then you get pulled into a room alone with him, and a decade of military training completely vanishes.
It was so…ridiculous. He was the first to curse your antics, your never-closing mouth, but now all he could think of was your mouth, and how he should close it. He was observing you then, the focused expression, when you would bite your lower lip, brows furrowed. It was strangely endearing, the effort you exerted in the painting.
What was even stranger were the arguments.
There were bound to be clashes, especially when you both were alone. You would say something incredibly foolish, and he would have to correct you; sometimes, Seungcheol would start the spark, spin the cauldron of your rage, and he would have to clamp down on his smile as you would scream at him. You, however, were always the one to finish an argument, lowering yourself to personal verbal abuse, and then he would be angered, demanding vengeance for your vicious tongue.
But when the two of you would storm up to each other—you ready to smash the canvas on his face—you and him would look at each other for a beat too long. Gazes would fall to mouths, and suddenly you were stumbling back into the walls, him plying your lips open—the next thing laying on the steps as he made your legs shake with his hands, his tongue.
Your reactions—the soft whimpers, the shaking exhales as they tumbled out of you—he never thought that such simple voices would bring him such delight. Never in his wildest dreams did he believe you of all women to be under him, but he welcomed the surprise.
The most frightening notion, though, out of everything that occurred between the two of you, was after the ministrations.
Usually, realising what you had done, you would run out of the studio—he had always been shocked at the events, and tried to rationalise them, but recently, he grabbed onto you as you tried to make flight.
Recently, he had asked you to stay.
“If you try to escape every time I kiss you, _____, then why do you go along with it?” he had asked you one day.
He asked you more. Questions you could not answer him. “Do you regret it every time?”
You wanted to lie—throw the yes at him.
Because if the Lord demanded truth on the day of Judgement, questioned your feelings concerning the man society called your husband, and you called your sworn enemy, then you would not be able to answer Him.
Because you did not like your answer.
So you never gave him a response, and hoped he would not cease the confusing, heated relationship that had grown out of mutual animosity.
The two of you continued in this fashion, painting progressing smoothly.
It was surprising that you were not bothered by the artists who usually worked in the studio. You were aware that your two friends had travelled to Florence a couple of weeks back to attend an artists’ convention. Word had spread in Venice that Florence’s duke had prepared a lavish ceremony for painters around the Italian peninsula, and many art lovers flocked to the cosmopolitan city.
The two returned a couple of days ago, and you paused the portrait for the day as they came to see you in the Palace. They regaled you of their tales—the paintings they had created, the chaos they caused in the ducal manors, and you laughed at their storytelling, never ending in your inquiries for more.
As they drank up your father’s alcohol, remembering more of their trip, they dropped some news that had your eyebrows raising.
“The duke of Florence…asking about me?!”
Soonyoung hummed in confirmation, swirling his wine. “He heard of the Victor’s wife creating his portrait, and was very intrigued. Since you are our dearest friend, we gushed about your skills.”
“He only mentioned you once in that entire trip,” Minghao corrected him, raising a brow. “He was too busy fucking the Florentine ladies to even bother painting.”
You tutted at the elder of the three. “What else was he to do when he had run out of Venetian escorts?”
“That is enough torment from the both of you!” Soonyoung yelled, raising his free hand. “You truly are the worst, _____! I was going to offer an invite on our next voyage to Florence, but you have officially lost the privilege.”
You offered him an incredulous look. “Whatever do you mean?”
Minghao sipped the red wine. “We were supposed to stay in the convention for the rest of the summer, but we actually received a specific request from the Duke to bring you with us. It is why we have come back early.”
You almost dropped your glass.
“This could be an amazing opportunity!” Soonyoung started, a pondering hand on his chin. “Imagine. Learning from the Florentine masters, exchanging resources, gaining commissions from the Duke and Duchess of Italian art’s capital…you would become the most renowned painter of the land.”
“I would not go that far…” you trailed off, but now you were imagining what it would be like travelling to the far-away state. What would it be like, to hone your skills, meeting like-minded artists? It had always been your dream, a fantasy you had tucked away in the crevices of your mind. To travel beyond the borders of your domain, witness artistic change with your own eyes, contribute to it with your own hands…nothing could have made you happier.
It was why it remained a fantasy.
“Do not be ridiculous,” you said to your friends, locking your hands on your folded knee. “It is bad enough that Papa does not know where I paint Seungcheol’s portrait.”
“We would have agreed with you before, _____, but things have changed.” Minghao smiled knowingly. “You now have a powerful general who supports your ventures.”
“A husband who would die to further your success,” Soonyoung chipped in.
“There is no need for exaggeration,” you murmured.
“How are we exaggerating? This man has demanded his wife for his state portrait! Venice has not seen such an act of marital affection in generations!” He slapped his drink down on the table in front of him. “If you explained the Duke’s requests, the general would happily accompany you to the convention.”
“And if he cannot, we can easily take you under our protection,” the younger offered. “You should speak to Seungcheol. Truly.”
“I…I am not so sure,” you only said, looking at your glass.
“Not so sure of what?”
Your stomach turned.
Whirled your head to the door to find the very man you three spoke of.
“Ah, the Victor!” Soonyoung declared, ushering Seungcheol over. The general obliged his boisterous attitude, walking over to the group. After eyeing the empty space beside you, he filled it with his seated presence, settling an ankle over his knee.
“Afternoon, carissima,” he greeted you, and you could only nod at him in response to settle the nerves. He then focused on your friends, smiling. “What brings you here? I thought you both were wreaking havoc in Florence.”
“We are going back very soon, not to worry!” Minghao set his drink on the table. “We actually returned home momentarily because we forgot to take everything with us.”
“Oh? And what did you forget?”
Your two companions looked at you, Minghao about to answer the dreaded question.
You instantly jumped in.
“They forgot to bring their oil-on-wooden canvases!” you tried your best with your over-inflated exasperation. “Could you believe it? Travelling to an art convention and forgetting half of your art!”
“Ah…” Seungcheol studied the two nobles. “And could you both not have…requested the art brought to you?”
Your eyes begged for assistance from the younger men in the room. Soonyoung chuckled hesitantly as he said, “Ah, yes…well, I just thought…such precious work, you know? Servants cannot be trusted these days!”
“Hmm…” From his tone, you could tell your husband was not satisfied with such a weak explanation. “You could have asked me. I would have provided soldiers to reassure safe passage.”
Minghao followed Soonyoung’s awkward laughter. “No, no! We could never accept such help.”
“Why not? Any dear friend of _____’s is a dear friend of mine.”
The comment would have been heartwarming if you three were not maintaining a measly lie. “You ask too many questions, Seungcheol,” you remarked. “Do you not have meetings to attend to?”
“I do not, in fact, but…” he sighed, mocking agitation. “I will leave if I am not wanted.”
He waited for you to object, but you stayed silent, raising a brow. After a moment, he truly expressed agitation. “God, you really are cruel!”
“I just need to speak to my friends, that is all.” you gestured your hand to the door. “I heard Papa calling for you.”
Exhaling hard, he got up from the couch, dusting at his maroon attire. “Fine. I will believe your obvious fib, and speak with you later.” He nodded at the two. “Gentlemen.”
They bid their farewells, and you all watched the general as he exited the sitting room.
The moment his presence was gone, the two glared you down. “What on earth was that?” Minghao seethed. “Why did you not ask him?”
A part of you wished you could tell him.
After working on the state portrait, you had found yourself hoping more than a woman should expect when regarding her future. You were fortunate enough to paint Venice’s great commander, but you knew this was as much the universe could offer. You did not want to tempt fate.
You did not want to push the boundaries of Seungcheol’s benevolence.
You blinked back at the revelation.
You did not want to bother Seungcheol.
That was quite a horrifying thought.
Perhaps you would have escaped to Florence on a whim before—really cause a scandal on your husband’s name, even your father’s. Before, that would have brought you great satisfaction.
This time, you were hesitant—you already received the opportunity for the general’s painting, and you could not ruin it when you still had to finish it. You could not kill the flower of your artistic growth when it had just begun to bloom.
So you only nodded at your friends, assuring them of your answer once you spoke to Seungcheol.
Faux reassurances, for you knew that the opportunity of your journey to Florence died within this conversation.
YOU CONSIDERED THE FLORENCE SITUATION BEHIND YOU.
Minghao and Soonyoung were staying only a couple more days before journeying to Florence again, and you made them swear never to speak on the situation in the future.
Up until this point, you had begun colouring Seungcheol’s figure—the seated general, all poise and power with his longsword, the midnight armour impossible to perfect without ripping your hair out from the roots. At least the subject was more obedient this time, staying deathly still as you mixed your oils, trying to find the perfect hue for his dark attire.
Although frustrating, the process was rewarding, because the first layer was done quickly—the details were needed, but you resorted to positive thinking in the workshop. At least with his encouragement, you could keep painting without feeling as if you have failed.
Soon, though, the general had to leave many of the sessions. Your father, this time, was taking up more of his time, and you assumed it was for more political advice than a sudden wish to bother his son-in-law.
Seungcheol had given general details of the meetings, but you did not care much when your painting preoccupied your thoughts much more than the Venetian political scene. He told you of growing Ottoman sentiments of making peace, and he was in accord, not wishing to shed more bloodshed. A small part of you was impressed—it was quite insane, how a single man was behind the downfall of imperial expansion.
With today’s absence, though, you decided to take the day for yourself, closing the workshop as you headed back to the Palace. You were greeted by a few servants, who ushered you into the Doge’s headquarters, informing you of your father’s summons for you.
A good thing you chose to return at that time then.
You walked into the grand room of the senate; the Doge was, as usual, sitting at the end of the room as the empty chairs on each of his sides were lined up, two of them occupied. Seungcheol and Councillor Choi settled opposite each other—the former on the left of the Doge, and the latter on the right.
Once you entered, your father smiled, gesturing for you to sit. “Ah, cara, it is good you are here.”
Seungcheol turned around in his seat—you caught his eye, and you kept it locked as you greeted the elders, finding your way to the chair next to him.
He looked as if he was going to say something, but your father beat him to it. “How is the portrait coming along?”
“Splendidly,” you answered. “It should be finished in the next few weeks.”
“Good. The Senate has been demanding progress on the artwork, so I will send this news over.” He waved a hand over to his old friend, who watched you and his nephew intently. “The reason I brought you here today is to give you some news.”
“Oh?”
The elderly gazes rested on the general.
The general’s gaze rested on you.
You watched him hesitate a little before speaking. “I am leaving for Corfu in a few days.”
“Corfu?” Your confusion grew. “Whatever for?”
“Remembering the Ottomans wishing for peace? Corfu is a perfect middle spot between Venice and Constantinople, and the sultan specifically asked for me.”
There was a slight air of pomposity in Councillor Choi’s voice as he chimed in. “I think the sultan wishes to see what kind of man defeated an empire.”
Your mind tried to take in the information as they explained the situation further. Corfu. The island was about two weeks’ ship-ride from Venice, and undoubtedly Seungcheol’s factions would have to stay for a while to negotiate such an important treaty. This meant that this entire affair would last at least three months.
You did not know why that dampened your spirits. “Oh…I see.”
The Doge noticed your change of tone. “Well, do not be aggrieved already! Councillor and I have decided that you should join him in his peace efforts.”
That was even more shocking. “What?” you asked, not quite believing the situation at hand. “Me? Corfu?”
“It is customary to accompany your husband wherever you go,” the uncle explained, locking his hands. “The Doge’s daughter at the negotiation sends a message of power. Solidarity.”
Murmuring a response, you looked down at your shoes, thinking of your prospects.
What about the portrait? You knew it was too good to be true. It had to be a scheme from the Senate to delay its finishing. Anything to stop a noblewoman from doing anything useful for the State.
You could not go to Corfu. God, Seungcheol could not go to Corfu, not for that long.
You blinked.
Why in Hell did that bother you so much?
“Your Excellency, Uncle…I have already decided.”
You did not bother turning to see his face.
“_____ will not be joining me.”
Nevermind—you did bother, glancing at him.
The Doge was now the confused one. “Whyever not?”
Councillor Choi shrugged. “Well, I suppose a negotiation scene must be too much for a lady—”
“No. Nothing of the sort. You see, _____ will be engaged in something else.”
You watched a determined glint spark up in the general’s eyes.
“While I am Corfu, my wife will be in Florence.”
Silence.
Ever so slowly, you straightened in your seat. Three pairs of eyes, widened like full moons, gawked at him as if he just admitted a sin worthy of confession. His face, however, remained as cool as the lagoon overlooking the Palace.
It was a while before anyone spoke.
His uncle first broke the uncomfortable silence.
“What…what on earth are you talking about?”
“Let me explain.” A clearing of his throat, hand going inside his maroon, buttoned shirt. “About a month back, I received a letter from the Duke of Florence. He had heard of my decision to have _____ paint my portrait, and apparently it has spread like wildfire.” He fished out a wheat-coloured, folded paper, royal seal broken. “You see, he was very intrigued to see a lady attain such a high honour, and was hoping we could go to Florence and be hosted by him.”
He continued, ignoring the growing shock of his audience. “Now I know I have obligations, so of course I could not accept his invitation. However, _____ would be perfect for the event. Not only is she the Doge’s daughter, but she is the reason the Duke wrote to me in the first place. She can wow the Florentine public with her artistic flair, and act as our ambassador from Venice.”
He looked at you, and a ghost of a smile appeared at your blatant surprise. “I might be right in saying that she is aware of the art convention occurring in Florence. Minghao and Soonyoung will be returning there in a couple of days’ time, so they can accompany her to the city.”
His gaze fixated on the Doge. “_____ would be infinitely more useful in Florence.”
He held out the letter to you. “Most importantly, she would adore it there.”
You gawked at the letter. Bidding your hand to work, you took it, unfolding the paper. Sure enough, it was the Duke of Florence, asking about you and how you had achieved such a position of becoming portraitist to the Victor of Venice. He mentioned his wife obsessing over the ‘woman who had captured the attentions of Choi Seungcheol’, urging you and him to join them in their palace as special royal guests. It felt unreal, reading something so positive about yourself when you had never met the people who gave such praise.
Looking up from the letter, you saw the beginnings of anger in the elders’ faces. Your father still retained his shock.
“Seungcheol…” he began, quite at a loss for words. “This is…I mean…I do not even know where to…?”
The councillor decided to express his opinions for him. “This is unacceptable!”
You could only watch the chaos unfold, starting from the vigorous pointing of his uncle’s finger. “Who are you to make such a decision?
“I am her husband,” Seungcheol answered smoothly. “Was it not you who emphasised my apparent superiority in marriage? I do not remember other relatives having a say in what my wife does.”
Oh, Lord. Using their own words against them—this was not going to end well.
But then he offered them both a smile—a smile you had grown too accustomed to not know its hidden, darker implications. “You know what, though? Perhaps you both are right. I should not be making decisions for my wife when she is perfectly capable of choosing herself.”
He turned to you, and it took great effort not to look away from him. “Tell me, _____. Would you like to go to Florence?”
You could only gape at him.
“Don’t be silent now, when you have never been quiet with me,” he insisted. “I know how much you want to go. Is that true?”
You looked at him—the determined, almost desperate glimmer in his eyes had you unable to respond to him. Your eyes darted to the two elders, who were on the edges of their chairs.
You had to stop this. Your mind screamed at you to shut him down, tell him to hold his tongue and leave for Corfu immediately, let you rot here forevermore. Florence was a dream—it should remain so.
But seeing him with such belief, such hope in you…it was daunting.
It had you believing too.
It had you foolishly believing of more—believing beyond the portrait, beyond the borders of Venice. It had you accepting that maybe, just maybe, you could be as free as you had dreamed.
So you took a deep breath, chest rising.
And nodded.
Watching relief wash over your husband’s face, you faced your father, uncle-in-law, and spoke your truth.
“It is true. I do want to go to Florence.”
If you thought they were shocked enough from Seungcheol’s declaration, then your words had their mouths parting.
Your father did not lose speech when you were concerned.
“How dare you say such a thing?!”
You tried not to flinch. “I have dismissed many of your tantrums before, _____, but this has gone too far!” His accusatory finger pointed at you. “Have I taught you nothing about speaking when necessary?”
Councillor Choi matched his friend’s grave temper. “You should know better, child, then to involve yourself in foreign affairs. It is no place for a woman.”
“Careful,” Seungcheol countered, narrowing his eyes. “This woman is the wife of your strongest commander.”
The Doge sucked in a sharp breath. “Seungcheol, I thought you were better than this,” he muttered.
“The scandal this would cause if _____ would travel alone to another state alone,” the councillor snarled, hand tightening on the arms of his chair. “We would all be ruined! Venice would be a laughing stock!”
“I cannot have neighbouring provinces sneering at the State when they are already questioning the choice of artist for your portrait.” Your father glared at you. “I cannot risk embarrassment, even if it may be for my daughter’s sake.”
He then directed his grim countenance at his general. “_____ will not be going to Florence. I refuse it.”
You were going to throw up.
You needed to leave, needed to escape because you were going to hurl your guts up in the sacred hall, and you would rather die than create a scene.
Your hands were ready to push you up when you felt a stronger hand hold your arm. He kept you seated, wrapping his fingers around your sleeve.
When you peered at the man who stopped you, you gulped.
“Fine.”
The Victor of Venice was enraged.
“If _____ does not go to Florence, then I will not go to Corfu.”
Oh, God.
To Hell with throwing up—you were going straight to an early death.
The most powerful politicians in the State were silenced.
They could not understand it. Why on God’s good earth was Choi Seungcheol defending your passion of painting over the Republic’s foreign relations? Should Corfu be a success, Venice would expand its lands, grow in revenue, become engulfed in riches. What will your expedition to Florence achieve? A few pieces of oiled artwork? A portrait of a few prostitutes? A wife’s happiness?
The elders could have spit on the idea—especially the uncle, who was seething with rage.
“You would not dare,” he hissed.
The general quirked his signature brow.
“Watch me.”
The quietness of the hall was too much; the tension was thick enough to set it on fire, the stares of the politicians enough to send your heart derailing.
You swallowed a lump in your throat.
You could not take this anymore.
Instantly, you shot up from your seat.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” you mumbled, waving off your husband’s hand. You did not look back as you hurried out of the grand doors.
Shaking, you stopped right next to the exit, your legs about to give up on you. Thankfully, you were hidden from sight, or else you would die from the sheer embarrassment of them watching you. Your heartbeat thumped loud, drumming in your ears, your throat, refusing to calm down. Closing your eyes, you tried to breathe slowly. In, and out. In. Out.
In. And out.
After a few minutes, you finally showed signs of tranquillity, hand on your chest to sense your heart beating slower than the previous frenzy. Now, with a calmer mind, you could hear what occurred between the three men. You heard footsteps fade from the other entrance, and from the swishing of heavy robes you guessed your father had left, the thump in his step indicating his prevalent rage.
Another minute passed, and you were about to leave yourself when you heard Councillor Choi’s voice. It was hushed down—harsh still, but quietened.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
A pause. Then, the general’s smooth baritone filled the room. “Something I should have done a long time ago.”
“Have I not told you countless times? God, it is as if years of training have completely vanished the moment you married that foolish woman!”
“Careful.”
A scoff. “Have you forgotten our conversations before your union?”
There was a moment of quiet, and you could feel the tense atmosphere, permeating even at the entrance you hid behind.
“I remember them perfectly.”
Councillor Choi’s voice raised a little. “I did not marry you to the Doge’s heir just for you to follow her every whim. Remember why you are in her life in the first place.”
You furrowed your brows. What was he talking about?
“I think you also remember, Uncle, how I did not want to be in her life. You forced me into this marriage, as much as she was forced by her father.”
“And you are aware of the reasons, boy! The Chois need a place in the Senate, and I will be damned if I let you destroy that!” A thud! resonated in the room, most likely a hand stamping on the chair. “I have not raised you all my life to then be useless to me when you are grown!”
You could hear the venom in Seungcheol’s reply. “I am…very aware of that.”
“Good…excellent. Now, you must go to the Doge at once and apologise. God, for a second, I saw the Choi family be scandalised for life!” A huff of laughter escaped him. “It is good you know your duty, Cheol. For a moment, I thought you were going to forego everything I worked for over a woman.”
There was momentary silence, you certain that the councillor was satisfied with this conversation. Your heart sank a little. You did not understand why disappointment tugged at your veins.
But then the general’s voice interrupted his uncle’s temporary joy. Perhaps forever.
“You know, Uncle…I used to hate it when you called me Cheol.”
You did not hear the councillor’s reply. Maybe he said nothing, waiting for Seungcheol to continue. “I truly detested it, because that name was born out of love…from my parents. Remember? How did they used to call me Cheol before they died?”
He halted. “When you started saying it, I felt the love leave the meaning of the name. Funny, is it not? How words begin to have other meanings, until people steal it, change it for themselves?”
The councillor sneered, “Where is this heading?”
You heard the commander laugh, albeit with no humour. “You see, Uncle, I hated being known by that name until I heard _____ call me Cheol one day.”
Your breath hitched.
“I cannot specifically remember which Cheol it was, because she has said it with great agitation too…but…” Another scoff.
This time, though, it was softer. “For some reason, I did not seem to hate my name so much anymore. So strange, that my wife called me by my name on a random evening, and suddenly, I felt it…I felt some love grow back into it.”
Your eyes widened.
Perhaps the councillor had a similar reaction. “What the hell is this supposed to mean?”
Another momentary silence. God, these silences were going to kill you—
“It means that something so personal to me…something once cherished, then hated…was being cherished again. The name that defines me, something of myself that I despised…because of _____, I began to love it again.”
Councillor Choi grew a little frantic—he knew where this was heading. “Nephew—”
“No, let me speak. Yes, I did not want her, even after I married her, but now…in this moment of time, _____ had shown me something I thought I was incapable of doing. She has changed me, Uncle, when I thought I was forever undone…she has stormed into the chambers of my heart, swords unsheathed, and I cannot help but surrender. I want to surrender to her, because I cannot imagine living my life without her now. My wife, who I thought was so full of hatred, has instead shown me what love is.”
When Seungcheol said the next words, you could have sworn his voice almost trembled.
“You see, I am in love with my wife, but she does not love me back.”
You parted your mouth.
Everything froze. Your senses stilled, everything mute save for the baritone that followed you now—now, and all these years.
“And it is…fine that she does not love me back, because she was forced more into this marriage than I was. But what I cannot accept is having her suffer at my hands.”
A harsh sigh. “Her marrying me is punishment enough for her. The least I can do for her is let her explore her passions.”
A chair creaked—he was getting up. “I do not care if the Choi family is sent into ruin. I do not give a fuck if the Ottomans come marching with their armies.” His promise was like steel. “My wife will go to Florence and paint to her heart’s desire, or I will damn my military leadership.”
Councillor Choi must have been rocked to his very core. His usual snarling was reduced to pleading. “Wait, child, you cannot do that!” he exclaimed, his chair sliding back. “What about your decade of training, everything you have worked for? Everything we have worked for, Cheol—”
He stopped midway—possibly by the venom in his nephew’s glare.
“Don’t you dare call me Cheol,” he guttered. “That is reserved for the people I love.”
The politician’s gulp could be heard from where you hid.
“Right.” A sharp sigh escaped your husband. “I must make arrangements for _____’s travel. If you wish, I can deal with His Excellency for you, but do not try to change his mind. Or mine.”
With that, he exited from the same door as the Doge, his swift footsteps leaving your ears.
His words, however, remained.
She has changed me, when I thought I was forever undone.
Your breathing quickened.
My wife, who I thought was so full of hatred, has instead shown me what love is.
Your heartbeat sprinted.
I am in love with my wife, and she does not love me back.
Your eyes closed.
I am in love with my wife.
YOU WERE SCHEDULED TO LEAVE THE VERY NEXT DAY.
The Doge had not said a single word to counter your journey, so you had guessed that Seungcheol’s decision remained final. The thought of his word over the ruler of Venice struck a strange chord over you. You never realised how much power he waged over the State.
Preparations for your travels were done in haste, but Minghao and Soonyoung reassured you that everything will be arranged once you arrive in Florence. Usually, you would have prepared twice as hard, considering how unreliable your friends were. Once you found out about your husband’s vigilant eye over the entire process, you did not question it any further.
When the day of departure arrived, you were taken to the edges of Venice, into the mainland where horses could be used freely without threat of falling in the lagoon. Carriages upon carriages were filled with your belongings—mostly your art supplies, and clothes to impress the Duke and Duchess—one other carriage was free, waiting to be occupied by the travellers.
Minghao was crossing off items on his list, Soonyoung fixing his hair at the carriage window when you observed the scene, hands locked behind your back. “Right. Is this everything?”
“I think…” one last line across the Tuscan Wine on the paper, and he put his charcoal in his pocket. “This is it! We are all done.”
“Good.”
You looked around, to the city that was so full of life. One step forward and you would be sucked back in. No. You needed to move on—to better opportunities. To freedom.
Freedom.
You could almost feel it. One more step inside the carriage, and off you went to a new world.
But you did not go inside.
“_____,” Soonyoung called, fingers sliding on the carriage handle as he watched you look on, your back to him. “We need to leave.”
“Yes…” you trailed off, waiting.
You could not leave—not just yet.
Your list consisted of one unfinished business. That particular business needed to come, or else the entire journey, your entire struggle would be for nothing.
“_____.” It was Minghao then. “It is time.”
“Hmm…”
Something inside you constricted.
Perhaps it was meant to be.
There are always letters.
Slowly, you turned, holding tufts of your gown to walk easier up to the carriage, Minghao holding out his hand to help you inside. Soonyoung opened the door.
“Wait!”
Your breath hitched.
Your head whirled back, lighting up at the scene.
As if your prayers were answered—prayers which you did not realise you were carrying out—the galloping of a racing horse greeted your ears before the general appeared in your vision, slowing down his black mare once his gaze latched onto you. You drank him in, the majestic image of his burgundy-clad figure, curls bouncing with every trot of his horse. Pulling on the reins, he stopped a few metres from you, patting the mane in encouragement.
He wasted no time swinging his leg over, getting off the black mare.
You found yourself pacing forward, ignoring your friends’ hands.
The general’s boots quickened with each step you took, until you were only a few feet away from him. He stopped too once you paused—his hands were ready to reach out, but he then fisted his fingers, instantly willing them to his sides.
“I, I… I must apologise for the delay,” he started, looking back at the rush of the city. “It was hectic back at the Senate, you know, with your preparations, and…yes, they would not let me leave.”
You nodded, opening your mouth to speak but then clamped down when he continued. “I made sure you have everything for the journey. Do not fret, I have prepared Minghao and Soonyoung for what will happen in Florence.” His eyes darted upward, as if finding more words to say. “And…oh, yes, do not worry about what will happen here. I have handled—will handle everything.”
He was talking and talking, but the more you watched him, taking in his words, the more you remembered what he exposed.
I am in love with my wife, and she does not love me back.
You tried not to let your stomach flutter out of your skin.
He was going to say much more until you interrupted him.
“Cheol.”
He halted.
You took a step forward.
“Thank you for coming.”
His fisted-hands loosened.
But you had not finished. “Thank you for…everything.”
The general’s eyebrows quirked upwards.
You would have drowned yourself in the lagoon before ever saying such a thing to him. It was insanity, how, not so long ago, the words that tumbled out of your mouth would have never been in your vocabulary—especially when it concerned him.
He said so himself. “I never thought I would hear you say the words.”
“You should cherish them night and day, then.”
A soft chuckle escaped him, his irises dancing. “Are you saying I should think of you ‘night and day’ while you are gone?”
Despite the strange, twisting sensations in your heart, you masked a mocking expression. “Do you not already?”
You were ready for another sly quip.
His dazed silence had you remembering all over again.
I want to surrender to her, because I cannot imagine living my life without her now.
Was this the surrender he talked of?
His lack of response, of course, was a response in itself.
You smiled at him.
He made a comment of it. “Oh, no…I know that look. You are going to do something, no?”
As you watched him, though, his stare searching for your answer, ever the military leader in finding out your next move, you decided to throw him off.
You stepped forward, hands reaching out to hold onto his face. Rising on the tips of your toes, you pressed your lips against his.
You felt such painstaking relief wash over him as he instantly held you, hands snaking your waist. He kissed you back with the same fervour you offered—he could not help expose his initial surprise, considering you were both still in public, and displays of affection were very much frowned upon. You knew this, of course, but at the time, you cared not a bit.
All your kisses with him had been harsh—filled with fire, consumed in rage. This one, however, was slow; soft, as if testing the waters, hesitant to move to the next stage. You smiled a little against him, cherishing his shy movements. He pulled you closer, snuffing out any distance, and you melted onto him, holding his face like a precious painting.
You were going to miss him.
The scarred lips, slowly opening your mouth for more. You were going to miss the curls of his hair, stroking against the ends of your fingers, inviting you to touch. You already yearned for his granite figure against yours, his presence, always so near to you. You were going to miss him.
You were going to miss all of him.
The general would have forever stayed in this moment, but you had to break away, breathing unevenly as you held onto him. His hands lingered on your waist, dreading the moment they had to let go.
When you looked at him, clamping your lips, you had trouble avoiding his gaze.
His brows furrowed a little, frowning sadly at you.
“You better write to me,” he murmured. “That is an order.”
He tried to jest. You tried too.
“You are never hearing from me again.”
A phantom smile appeared on his face.
The noise of the horses behind you signalled it was time.
He still held on.
“I must…” Your hands strayed down his arms, to his hands upon you. “I must go.”
Absent-mindedly, he nodded. “Yes.”
His hands stayed.
You were really going to miss him.
“Cheol,” you pleaded.
Holding his hands with your own, you squeezed the fingers that latched onto you.
With great strength, the general let go of you, aching at the emptiness that embraced his palms.
You stepped away, lest he reached out again. If he did, you did not think you would be able to stop him.
Looking at him one last time, you wished you could confess your true feelings to him.
But you contained yourself.
That moment, you chose to be a coward.
“Farewell, Cheol.”
You turned on your heel, beginning to walk back.
“Farewell, _____.”
A pause.
A shuddered breath escaped.
But you kept moving, refusing to look back.
Walking up to the carriage, you opened its doors, refusing to acknowledge the stunned expressions of your friends as you settled inside.
As Soonyoung closed the carriage door, Minghao asked, “Are you all right?”
You closed your eyes, hands fidgeting on your lap.
“Just start the carriage.”
The two men exchanged a concerning glance. Minghao signalled for the driver to begin, and with the snap of the whip, the horses neighed, exiting out of the city.
And as you felt the jolt of your journey beginning, you finally allowed yourself to look back at the figure, growing smaller and smaller the further you rode on.
He was there until you completely disappeared out of sight.
FLORENCE WAS AS EVERY BIT AS MAGICAL AS YOUR FRIENDS PROMISED.
The city was bustling with life—a welcomed chaos, with horse-and-carts rushing on cobblestone streets, Florentine traders bragging of their produce in the markets, women of all classes roaming and bargaining on the streets. Churches, manors and estates, even grander than those back home, peppered every square, patricians in and out of the special cathedrals that were bathed in gold. Music tuned on every road, merry voices of tipsy men resonating all around your carriage.
Your meeting with the Duke and Duchess was even more extraordinary. The Pitti Palace was sparked to life, especially during the art convention, where noblemen from all around Europe were being hosted, as well as the famous artists from neighbouring countries. When you and your friends entered the grand halls, so unlike the fortress-like exterior, the ruler left his seat, hands raised and all smiles as he approached you. His courtiers and other noble subjects had watched the procession, stunned to see a noblewoman without her husband.
“Ah, the famous female artist!” he had greeted you, taking your hand and pressing a kiss upon the back. “Now I can prove to my subjects that you are not a myth Venice created.”
You only smiled politely, and he welcomed Minghao and Soonyoung back, reassuring them of their chambers being set up before he focused his attentions on you.
Insisting he give you a tour of the Palace, he showed you of the growing artworks, scattered in every hallway, ballroom, private chambers, meeting rooms. You could not take your eyes off every sculpture, every painting, engraving—you were proud of your Venetian artists, but the Florentine masters had thrived decades prior. The collections of Da Vinci, Botticelli, Raphael, Donatello—numerous more—were on display. The Duke even promised to introduce you to old Michaelangelo, who was granted special quarters to work on his marble sculptures during the season. That alone had you nearly collapsing in the palace, but you made to compose yourself. You were not going to embarrass yourself.
The Duke explained his reasons for starting the art conventions, citing his great love of art since his childhood. He was also part of the incredibly wealthy Medici family, who were famous for being patrons of great artists from across the Italian states. You listened to him talk of his collection, and how he hoped to expand it as more artists joined him every year.
“Honestly, my lady, I was expecting you to refuse the invitation,” he confided, once finished with the tour. “I do not mean to offend, but Venetians have a reputation of keeping their ladies out of sight.”
Although he was spot on in his observations, you chose not to say anything. “Imagine my surprise,” he continued, “When I received word from Venice’s Victor that he would be honoured to bring you here.”
The term had your ears perking. “Did you hear about me from Seungcheol?”
The Duke nodded. “He was the first to tell me about you, actually. I had heard rumours of you painting his official portrait, but I could not believe them till the general sent me the first letter.” He scoffed, a hand on his hip. “Extraordinary, is it not? A Venetian husband…sending his wife to another state entirely. He must be infatuated.”
Your cheeks warmed at the comment. “Where am I to stay?”
“Ah, yes! Let me show you to you chambers.”
Your baggage was unpacked by the countless servants, and instantly you were taken to the dozen workshops attached to the Palace, your companions already assigned to their previous stations. All the painters, sculptors, engravers flocked to where you stood, listening to the Duke’s introduction about you. None of them needed it, though, when everyone knew who you were by simply being a woman in a workshop.
The Venetian noblewoman turned artist.
You were expecting sneers from these established men, but you received more fascination than any negative judgement. You guessed that it was what came with breaking away from tradition—art was, essentially, a form of rebellion.
You brought your old works with you from Venice; Seungcheol’s portrait was one of them, which elicited more awed responses from the artists. That then turned into comments on how to improve, questions on when you were going to finish it, how you were going to finish it, whether you would let them work on it for you.
You did not hear them much, though, when all you could see was him.
The faded face you had constructed, the first layer of his features. You had only just captured the hues of his skin, the beginnings of his sharp eyebrows, the mess of paint that was supposed to highlight his curls. Everything else was more detailed, such as his armour, the background, but the face…you had saved the best for last.
Within the next day, artworks flowed from the workshops like the streams in Heaven—if the afterlife offered rivers of milk, wine and honey, then your artistic colleagues offered oil on canvas, oil on woodwork, engravings, sculpture from marble, rock, every hard resource which could be worked on. It was a powerhouse of creativity, models streaming in and out for reference, some staying overnight for the painters’ pleasures. It was so fascinating, seeing such talent in the birthplace of high art. You never thought you would be able to witness genius—you, who had to wear the Lord’s robes to hide your drawing, were now in the epicentre of art, learning from the best.
It was all so enticing that you never noticed the one great absence until night would fall, and after the last of observing your friends, you would retire to your chambers, collapsing in the huge, four-poster bed, and let the thoughts of that day sink into you.
It was in those lone moments, recalling what you had done, that you would turn to your side and realise that you had no one to share those details with.
On those particular nights, your spirits would sink, like a broken ship in the ocean bed.
You wondered what he was doing.
He was in Corfu by this time, undoubtedly engaged with the peace treaty with the Ottomans. He had sent you the first letter when you had finished your first portrait in Florence, asking you about your life here, and informing you of his exploits there.
It was so strange how you had smiled unconsciously in receiving his words, finding yourself instantly penning your response. You sent it away for delivery, but when you heard that he would receive it in a fortnight’s time, that had you scowling at the poor messenger.
Two weeks in sending. Two weeks in receiving.
More evidence of his painful absence.
The longer the waiting became, the more your sadness grew. You were thankful for so many resources around you for distraction, because if you were a mere ambassador, hiding in your rooms, you would have lost your mind.
Your first creations were landscapes—studies of the Florentine churches, the palaces opposite in the square, studies on perspective, light and shadow. You were hoping you could paint them more professionally, but every time you picked up the paintbrush to fill them with life, your thoughts would distract you. With great frustration, you set your tools to the side.
You knew what was keeping you from painting.
And the more you waited, the more your agitation grew.
Gone were the faceless subjects. Away the landscapes went in effort to distract you, when you picked up an empty canvas, mixed as much oils as you could muster and began to paint.
It was ferocious. Quick were your brushstrokes, messy was your composition. The artists beside you were definitely not impressed, seeing as Florence thrived on detail, but your mind was in disarray. The clothing, the backgrounds, the mindless imagery did not matter to you at that point in time.
Despite their complaints, what they could not fault you for was how you created the subject’s face.
His face—his every feature haunted your dreams, when you were alone, when you were accompanied by people more popular than him. Every expression was different in every painting that broke away from your soul. In some paintings, it was the eyes—dark, mysterious, calculating—that accompanied pursed lips, a haunting countenance, which you painted with darker colours. In most paintings the mischievous glint appeared, and suddenly you could see him smirking at you from your canvas, challenging you. You could almost hear the taunts from the parted lips, scar just added from your smaller, detailed brush. Every painting, there was a different version of him, different perceptions of him, memories of his teasing, his cold anger, his laughter, tumbling out of the canvas.
You did not know how many portraits you had drawn in the space of those three months in your stay in Florence. It was crazy, when it took the masters years to complete one painting, but your frenzy had birthed dozens. Night and day, you stayed in your studio, eating and sleeping in there if you could had your friends not dragged you to your chambers at some points.
It was in this trance that, once you finished another painting, you saw your unfinished portrait, commissioned by the Senate.
Grabbing hold of the canvas, you propped it on your easel, eyes drifting to the tools on Minghao’s desk. Reaching out, you grabbed hold of the knife.
With one last look at the painting, you raised the knife and slashed it across the canvas.
Twice over, you tore the parchment apart, the great detail of the painting in smithereens, bits of the canvas drooping down. Gripping onto the weapon, you took a deep breath, gaze set.
Gone was the previous, hesitant portrait.
There will be a new beginning.
THE MOMENT YOU HEARD NEWS OF SEUNGCHEOL’S RETURN, YOU FELT A LITTLE LIFE SPARK BACK INTO YOU.
Many convinced you to stay longer, at least till the end of the celebrations. Minghao and Soonyoung begged for another week, your newfound Florentine friends pleaded for your presence—even the Duke and Duchess were upset to hear of your departure, but you were certain of your decision.
You had to leave for Venice for once.
“Look at her,” Soonyoung teased you, watching you regulate all the new paintings, wrapped perfectly in order to avoid any damage. “One little rumour of the general’s return and she is losing it.”
“God, I despise happy couples,” Minghao muttered, drinking a cup of wine. “I thought you hated the poor man.”
“I guess marriage does that to a person,” the eldest crowed, crossing his arms. “Who would have thought…_____…the first fallen soldier.”
“You both are saying too much,” you remarked, bidding adieu to the first of the dozen carriages on their journey back. “Can I not simply be excited to be back in Venice?”
“As if we are not aware of your feelings on Venice,” Minghao countered. “Just admit that you love your husband.”
You turned to your friend.
“Love?”
“Oh, Jesus help us,” Soonyoung got out. “Please do not say that you still despise the man! We will not believe you!”
You paused.
Love.
You blinked. Twice.
Did you love him?
Your eyes dazed over, hands fidgeting around your skirts.
You knew Seungcheol loved you. You remembered perfectly, really—even after it had been months since the secret confession, his words had not left your soul.
I am in love with my wife.
And she does not love me back.
Hurriedly, you shook your head.
That was a question you could not answer—would not answer.
“You both overlook the carriages,” you said, hoping they will take the hint. “I will meet the Duke and Duchess.”
Heading inside the Palace, you found the artists you had worked alongside standing in the great halls, with the rulers of Florence at the front. They all grinned at your presence, the Duke stepping forward to receive you.
“Surely we can convince you to stay,” he said. “Another week with us will bring no harm.”
“Alas, I cannot,” you rejected politely, a hand on your chest. “Seungcheol has come back.”
“But he would not mind you here!”
“No, he would not, actually. He would want me to stay.”
But I need to go.
It was almost as if he understood, bringing out his hand for you. “Your husband is a lucky man.”
As you put your hand in his, he pressed a chaste kiss, letting go. He stepped back, giving a backward glance to the artists. “You will be missed by us all, Lady _____.”
You could not help smiling at them, the crowd that waved goodbye. “Farewell, Your Grace.” Looking beyond, you returned the gesture, lips curling further. “Farewell, dear friends!”
They sent you off in unison, you quickly exiting from the giant palace as the city’s afternoon sun greeted you once again. Your two Venetian companions were there, one last carriage left for the three.
“Is the lady finished tending to her devotees?” Soonyoung drawled, earning a roll of eyes from you.
“Just open the door,” you ordered. Minghao chuckled at you both, taking your hand as he led you inside the carriage. The two swiftly followed, shutting the doors and signalling the driver to begin the journey back.
Back to Venice.
Travelling back home took just over a week; stops had to be made for the horses, for yourself and your friends, since staying cooped up in a tight carriage never did any good to one’s legs. You were restless, though—knee bouncing underneath your gown whenever you rode, eyes refusing to close during the night, thoughts never resting of a certain man that awaited you. It did not help that Minghao and Soonyoung kept talking about the mundane life of your city, and how they had nothing else to look forward to for the rest of the year. You wanted to agree with them, insult the city on water, but you had nothing to say at that time.
Not when you did have something to anticipate—someone.
Soon, you had entered the State lands, and you could almost smell the lagoon from miles away, welcoming you back after such a long time. The closer you came to the packed city, the more your nerves took over, buzzing with excitement.
Minghao clicked his tongue. “You better contain yourself, _____, or we are throwing you out of this carriage.”
“Go on, then,” you jeered, looking out of the window. Sure enough, the first signs of St Mark’s square could be seen from far away. “I will set Cheol’s soldiers on you both.”
“Using your dear general against us?” Soonyoung smacked a hand over his chest, mimicking betrayal. “After all the shit-talking we tolerated of him! It is always your dearest friends who turn against you.”
Ignoring him completely, your nose sensed the smell of damp wood and spices. Your ears picked up conversations from multiple languages, and you could taste the salt water of the lagoon, permeating the air.
This was Venice.
You had arrived.
“We’re here!” you exclaimed, making the two men hiss from the volume. You did not care, though, when you were here, here in the city, both of you were in the same place. “Quick, you oafs, we need to get out!”
“Is this the Lord punishing us for our sins?” Minghao asked the elder, opening the door. You did not wait for a helping hand as you stepped out, holding onto your skirts. “My God, _____, wait!”
“No time, my dears!” you called back, looking to the bustling roads—the Doge’s Palace was a speck in your vision.
Your feet worked on their own accord.
Like Jupiter’s lightning, you shot across the cramped cobblestone streets, people stumbling from your sheer force. People would have collapsed with shock to see the Doge’s daughter mingling with the public, but you did not care, did not give them such importance, when you were closing in. The turns you hurried into, the alleyways you short-cutted to reduce the distance, it was all paying off—what would have taken you almost an hour to reach the centre took only fifteen minutes, legs never giving up on you.
Once you reached the Palace, you burst through the main entrance, the guards taken aback by your sudden appearance. Instantly, they dipped their heads, informing you of your belongings successfully unpacked in your chambers, but you were not listening. Hurriedly, you asked for the whereabouts of a special person, demanding his location, but the poor guards had no idea, apologising profusely.
Groaning, you stepped past them, hurried in your steps as you made the intricate journey to your chambers. Never had the journey been so far, so long.
Finally, with bated breaths, you found yourself in front of your chambers.
The door was slightly ajar.
A smile caught onto your lips.
Reaching out your hand, you pushed open the door.
There he was.
Choi Seungcheol looked back at you, and you swore you could have collapsed to the floor.
It had been just under three months since you had last seen him, but it was like yesterday, courtesy to your dreams; he turned to face you fully, and you noticed that Corfu had goldened his skin. He glowed against his dark, ruby-coloured robes, over-lined with black fur. His beloved curls had been raked through, arms crossed, tightly over his chest.
His face had you halting all words.
Your own face fell.
Something was wrong. There was turmoil, twisting his features into a grave expression.
You opened your mouth only for him to interrupt you.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Those were not the first words you were expecting from him.
Stunned, you tried to find a response. Maybe it was good he did not care for one, for you had nothing to offer him.
“You are supposed to be in Florence,” he remarked. “You are not due back for another month.”
“I…I know—”
“So why have you come back?”
You gaped at him.
What was wrong with him? Why was he so aggravated?
Furrowing your brows, you decided to question this. “Can I not return home whenever I want?”
“Of course you can, but why would you? You were in Florence!” He gestured to the window, the city beyond. “Did you not enjoy it there?!”
“I did, but—”
“I got a letter from the Duke,” he cut you off. “He told me you hastened your departure from his Palace. Why did you do that?”
“Because…!” you began, trying to cite your reason, but your tongue decided to malfunction at the worst possible times. You could only watch him helplessly. Agitation gnawed at your skin, your bones at your lack of determination.
His questions did not cease. “Did they do something to you?”
“No, never—!”
His hand rested on his neck—then, matching your agitation, he ran the hand through his mess of curls. “Is Florence not what you wanted? Was I wrong in assuming you wanted to go?”
“Cheol,” you started, “No, you were not wrong, but—”
“Then why are you here?!”
A small gasp left you.
“Why are you here?!” he exclaimed again. “You said you could not do anything here, you said you wanted to become an artist, so why have you come back? Florence was your way out, _____!” He began to pace about—he looked as if he was losing his mind. “Florence was your escape!”
By God, he was making you mad.
He did not catch on. “You could have painted whatever you wanted there, but you come rushing back, and it will be back to that portrait you oh-so despise! How foolish can you be, _____?!”
This was the last straw.
He marched up to you, a frenzy on legs.
“What do you have in Venice that had you running back?!”
“YOU!”
Seungcheol paused.
You were too enraged to notice.
“Venice had you, you bastard! I came back to see you!”
You tried to calm down, but the Pandora’s Box of your soul had been wrenched open, and all you could spill out were curses, confessions. “I tried, you know?! I tried to beat it, struggle through the constant thoughts. Florence was the best thing that happened to me, yet still you found a way to be there, watching in my head, my heart!”
The general did not say a word.
You would not have let him. “You want to know what the hell I was doing for the past three months?”
Marching to the closest of the covered easels, you grabbed hold of the cloth. Yanking it off, you revealed the first painting that you had done in the art capital.
His eyes widened.
But you did not let him take in the portrait, not when you despised this painting, its earlier forms. You thundered on, taking on each easel and uncovering the contents. “This!” One by one, a painting of the general was unveiled aggressively, each canvas revealing a different version of him. “Painting you, drawing you, etching you into stone!”
Seungcheol could only gawk at each piece, gaze darting a mile a minute, drinking in the details, following after your wrathful march. Huge pieces of cloth dropped to the floor with each reveal, and he turned around slowly, catching up to you. A portrait of his smiles, a portrait of his glowers—a piece of his military prowess, a sliver of his domestic warmth.
He could not believe how differently you had captured him on every canvas. It was as if you had seen him his entire life, silently watching—appreciating his every feeling.
Once everything had been uncovered, you watched the fallen fabrics. Manically, you almost wanted to laugh.
It seemed like a lifetime before your husband spoke.
“You…” he felt as if he forgot how to talk. “You…painted me? Only me?”
“Have you not guessed already?!” you exclaimed, facing him. “I painted only you! No one else!”
Slowly—ever so slowly—his breathing turned uneven. “Why?”
“God…do you not understand?!”
You groaned, looking at him with all the rage and anger and desire and longing.
“My thoughts of you never ended!”
He stilled.
“They never end, Cheol! I thought it was me dying of some foreign plague, but it has been months, and I cannot bear it! I thought I was going insane, but then I heard you speak to your uncle, and then you said the words that made me lose all sense.”
A little reality kicked into him. “Wh…what words?”
You mustered strength. “You said you loved me, and I did not love you back.”
That had him losing all feeling in his limbs. “Wait, _____—”
“No, let me finish! God, please, let me finish!”
You shuddered out a breath.
“It was supposed to be true.”
Supposed to be.
“Lord help me, I wish it was true, because I would be at peace, and live my life tolerating you!” You rambled on, unable to contain yourself. “But it is not true at all, not in the slightest!”
Seungcheol did not understand what he was hearing.
“______, please—”
“Oh, just shut the fuck up, Cheol!” You screamed.
You stormed over to where he stood, rooted to the floor. Reaching out, you grabbed onto him, holding his face like a lifeline, because you refused to let him slip away.
You were never letting him go.
“Just let me admit that I love you!”
Seungcheol’s heart stopped.
Stopped completely in its rhythm, killing him on the spot.
Your gaze was pure fire. “I love you!”
The second declaration brought him back to life.
It was like the blood, dormant all his life, now began to pump in his veins—bubbling underneath his skin, more on the places your fingers touched, because you were in love with him, you were in love with him when he rendered it impossible.
You. In love with him.
“I hate it! I hate it so much, but nothing can be done! I wanted to despise you forever, but how could I?” You gripped onto his face tighter. “How could I, when you offered me a hand of peace when I wanted war? When you offered me opportunities, when I gave you nothing but misfortune?”
It was so strange, how you were still aggravated, despite your rambling. “How could I when you, you stupid, selfless bastard, had gone against all of Venice, risked your leadership for me?”
When you saw a smile appearing on his stunned, beautiful features, you could have slapped it off him.
“That is why I came back, you stupid man! You are the reason, you prick, you insufferable—”
The glowing general did not let you say another word.
Not when he pounced on you, his lips colliding against yours.
Your abuses hoped to escape even as he captured your mouth, but his touch made you forget every atom of anger that resided in you. Curses morphed into whining mumbles, opening up to him completely because you missed his scarred lips, missed his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer to him, eradicating the distance that developed for too long.
Damn distance, space, absence between you two—distance made you realise your yearning, distance made it agonising to live your days in normalcy. Absence had you losing the very essence of yourself, but the moment he kissed you, your spirit blazed to life. You could taste the months-stretched longing upon him, more so when he delved deeper, his panting slipping from his mouth.
You could have lived forever in this moment—tongue slipping past the seam of your lips, your hands on either side of his head, slipping into his hair. You could have begged God to pause this point in time, drinking in his pleasure, but then his hands wandered upwards, catching hold of the tightened bows of your dress. Untying the bows as he relished the inner workings of your mouth, he unravelled the lace, fingers stumbling, losing patience with each lace that struggled to fall free from your dress’ eyelet.
Your skin burned when he groaned upon your mouth, sensing his frustration. He broke away from you, pressing a hastened kiss on the corner of your lips before swivelling you around, making you gasp at the sudden action. “Do you even know,” he whispered, fingers finding the tightly-wound strings of your dress, “How long I have wanted this—”
You felt his harsh tugging quicker, wild gaze clearer as, one by one, your dress loosened around your shoulders, your waist. When yanking out the last lace, he planted open-mouthed kisses on the crook of your neck as he peeled your dress off your body, the heavy garment falling to your feet.
Seeing your corset, even more intricately tied than your dress, over your ankle-long chemise had him groaning even louder.
“What the fuck is it with you and your difficult dresses?” he seethed into your ear.
Although his voice made it difficult for you to breathe, you managed to get out, “No way you are defeated…by a corset…”
The heated sarcasm in your voice had him teething love-bites onto your skin, perfect distraction as he took out his dagger from its sheath. His lips pulled away from you, a frantic gaze on your back as he brought the blade to the bottom of the corset.
With one, hard swipe up he tore all the lace, unlocking the bodice’s hold.
You yelped a little at the sound of the knife, then the thud! of the corset as it fell to the floor. You whirled around, features twisting in outrage. “What on earth was that?!” you shrieked, mind still reeling from the slight pain on your neck.
“I got it off, did I not?” he only said, gaze travelling down you as he sheathed his dagger.
You did not notice his face changing as you remarked, “You could have killed me, you fool!”
But then you heard no response from him, and when you finally realised the shift of his demeanour, you instantly quietened.
Seungcheol’s stare could have set you on fire.
Scouring over your newfound state, his hands went limp as he regarded the awfully thin chemise, the last layer before everything was uncovered. The delicate gown left little to the imagination, and as his gaze rested on your breasts, nipples peaking beneath the fabric, you could have shrunk in on yourself.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you said to him, as if you did not wish the exact opposite.
He could not help it.
His hand reached out, the back of his fingers stroking your cheeks. You closed your eyes, breathing stumbling as you felt him travel down, sparking goosebumps on your neck, the skin of your collarbone. He stopped upon the hem of the chemise, twisting the bow at the front.
It was not a lie—he had been waiting far too long for this.
He could not forget how difficult it had become to live in your absence. It was not as if he had never done it before—a decade of military campaigns hardened his feelings for anyone. The torment he experienced in Corfu, though, struck him like a spear to the chest.
After confessing the truth that haunted him for weeks, it became much too real the moment his words saw the light of day. He should have given himself time to truly understand the intensity of this truth, but then you were leaving the very next day, and he witnessed his cowardice by never telling you. He was punished severely for that mistake; Corfu had been horrendous.
For Venice, he had achieved the best outcomes, came back bearing riches never seen in the Senate. But these rewards were meaningless to him. He did not want riches—he did not want what was best for his country.
He wanted you.
He wanted you in moonlit corners of his chamber, in the great halls of the peace party. He ached for you when he was surrounded by hundreds of nobles, he craved for you when he had no one but himself. It was aggravating, how you had cut your way inside of his heart, because of course you would make it difficult for him to be. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to you, even if you were thousands of miles away from him.
And now, you were not a mere inch from him, and he would not be able to control himself.
“_____,” he whispered, his other hand snaking around your waist. “I want this off.”
You could have died in his arms. “You first,” you said, feeling the velvet of his robes. Tugging on the golden buttons, you unfastened each one in the middle, going down. Seungcheol watched you unbutton a little hurriedly with each one undone, and when you stumbled, he could not help scoffing, unbuttoning the last at the top with one hand.
With almost shaking hands you took it off him, unveiling the off-white undershirt, slightly untucked within his black trousers. Instantly your hands reached for the untucked hem, making to pull the garment off when the general took over, taking off the shirt and discarding it on the floor.
Your widening stare had him unable to hide his smirk, despite his blood singing. Your eyes raked over his granite-hard body, scars peppered across his skin, the badges of bravery in every battle he had won. Your fingers traced the muscles that rippled down his abdomen, trailing down—
“Careful,” he mused, stopping your hand with his own. “You charter territory you have not explored.”
When your hands felt the harder surface of his crotch, your breath hitched. “Then let me explore it,” you ground out.
Seungcheol could have come in his pants right then and there.
He was not selfish, though. He could never give into himself when you did not even know what he had in store for you.
In his mind, he prayed for forgiveness. He knew, though, that it would not be accepted.
No amount of prayers could have saved him from Hellfire—not after what he wished to do to you.
So he only brought your hands to his shoulders, tugging you back. “I cannot, carrissima,” he said gently, pushing you further into the room, where your bed was settled. “Not until I am done with you.”
Your legs hit the edge of the bed, and you were engulfed with the general’s lips before he sat you down, he falling to his knees. “God, I—” he could not get the words out, spreading your legs before him. “Do you even know how much I wanted to do this again?”
Bunching the gown at your waist, the sight of your dripping cunt was enough to abandon religion altogether. With your layers all gone but one, you could see clearly the lust that radiated off his features. “Why make me wait so long then?”
His hands gripped your legs. “You’ll enjoy it all the more.” Pressing a chaste peck of his lips against your inner thigh, he continued, “Perhaps this time you’ll be louder since you missed me so much.”
Cheeks heating, you griped, “You will not get a word out of me now.”
His arrogant stare held great promise. “We will see about that.”
You would have said something more, but his tongue flattening against your folds robbed you of speech.
What was once slow and tender had transformed into something carnal. Seungcheol’s tongue teased you, taunted you along the edges of your cunt, lapping up evidence of your desire, savouring the taste as if it were Tuscan wine. He was so familiar with this surrounding, but he could never become used to the feeling of your walls pulsating around his tongue, the tongue which thrashed inside of you.
Like a defeated, greedy fool you moaned at his ministrations, dying and reviving with his every calculated movement, the well-known tightness at the small of your back. Like a drum beginning to play, a faint beating thrummed rhythmically, informing you of your imminent downfall should your husband continue. It was so embarrassing how quickly you had become a stuttering mess before him, but he was too good at what he did.
As if his tongue was not enough, he opened you up further, his fingers finding your clit and circling the bud, amplifying your pleasure twice over. You held onto his hair as you thrashed against him, sure to have flown off the bed had his hand not held you in place.
He fastened his pace, and the beating at your core grew louder, body tightening at what was to come. It seemed as though Seungcheol would have spent eternity with his face stuffed between your thighs, but you wanted release, needed freedom before you started cursing him through second nature.
But then he swirled his tongue inside you, and you jumped ship from insults.
For the first time, you resorted to begging.
“Please, Cheol,” you whimpered to him, gripping his locks tighter. “Please go faster, I need you to—!”
Your pleading was like the trumpet of victory tuning in his ears. He obliged you, the beautiful bastard obliged you so well that when he sped up you could not even mewl out a mere thanks. You knew that you would curse yourself for resorting to begging him, but when he tongue-fucked you to perfection, you could not hold onto your pride. You were acutely aware of the effect your pleases had on the man toiling inside you.
Breathing uneven, heart lodged in your throat, and mouth hanging open, you thought that you would die before you reached the final high.
The general’s fingers worked their magic on the bundle of nerves.
You could not have taken it any longer.
With a shattered gasp you climaxed onto his mouth, thighs jolting as release came crashing. You floated among the clouds as you tried to recover, the man slowing his tongue, fingers ceasing their labour.
Even as he respired heavily, watching you recover had his cock restraining in his trousers. So undone by his actions, when he had just scratched the surface of your pleasure.
He said so himself, raising his head to watch you breathing sharply, eyes hooded. “Don’t tell me…you are already done for the night.”
Straightening on his knees, he was almost at eye-level with you. His mouth was slick with your release, curls twisting in a frizzling mess. “What…” How had you forgotten how to speak? “What…what do you mean?”
His fingers drummed upon your legs. “I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
The hairs on the back of your neck erected. Your silence had the prick laughing. “God, I haven’t ever seen you this stunned!” Shuffling closer, he savoured the growing passion that still stained your face. “I fear the loss of your voice if my cock goes inside of you.”
You blinked back at the mention. His confidence was one thing, but his pomposity was something else entirely.
You could not let him say such things—even if it set a bonfire alight in your stomach. “Arrogance is a terrible look on you,” you muttered, but the comment came out weaker than expected—that may have had to do with your too-recent climax.
His hands began to lift your chemise even further, skimming past your sides. “And silence,” he countered, tugging at your arms so you raised them, swiping the flimsy shift off your body, “Is an amazing look…” he trailed off, seeing you without a single layer left. “Ah, an amazing look on you.”
Cheeks heating hotter than the sun, you ranted, “You talk too much.” You wrapped your arms around him. “Just kiss me.”
He fought to contain his smile. “And what do you say after such a request?”
“Now.”
“Wrong! The answer was please, Cheol, please! Ruler of my heart, half of my soul, please kiss me!”
You would have screamed at him were you not aching for him so ardently. “Bastard,” you only muttered before you pounced on his mouth. The general delighted at your enthusiasm, the impatience rolling of your tongue as he swirled it with yours. His hands pushed you back onto the bed, sending you further into the sheets as your pillows welcomed you. He was prowling atop you, his lips latching onto your neck as he unbuttoned his trousers, peeling them off along with his boots.
You clawed at his underwear, pulling it off him. The sight of his cock had your mind going blank.
There was a very valid concern that if he was truly putting something that big inside of you, you were going to die.
Perhaps he sensed your slight shift, for he looked down at you, his locks tickling your forehead. “Careful, _____,” he whispered, “Or you will never hear the end of my conceit.”
“Cheol…” you could not take your eyes off him in all his glory. “I was joking when I said you wished to kill me.”
“Kill you?” His harsh chuckling fanned your face. “No, no, carrissima, not when I…” he planted kisses upon your cheeks, your chin. “Not when I have something to do to you first.”
Gripping onto his cock, he tugged your legs apart, levelling against your entrance. The mere touch of his tip between your folds had your mouth slacking, ceasing breath. “Stop teasing,” you exhaled out, arms locked around his neck as you glanced below. “Just put it in already.”
“Patience, my love,” he purred, pausing his torment, “You know I want to take my time.”
You gritted your teeth, about to thrust upwards to get him inside you when his hand on your hip pushed you down. “My God…so needy for me, aren’t you? Cannot even control yourself?”
Your body sang at his words, despite your own seething, “I really fucking hate you.”
The phantom smile he offered could have undid you there and then.
“Oh, I know,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. “But you will adore me when I am done fucking you.”
Then, with a shuddering breath, he began his descent.
Slowly, painstakingly slow, he slid inside of you, careful not to overwhelm you. Your entire soul stood at a standstill as you felt your walls pulsate around his cock, singing at how it felt around you when he was not even finished. You pulled him closer to you, noses brushing as he filled you with the last of his inches.
You did not want to move—Lord, he was so fucking big, you were half-frightened you would snap with any sudden movements. If you were not patient, Seungcheol was, watching you adjust with shivered exhales. Despite his claims, he, too, only wanted comfort for you, waiting for your signal to continue.
Nodding hurriedly against him, you gave him your approval.
He sent a quick kiss upon your mouth before he slowly began to pull out.
Clamping your lips together did not help, inhaling sharply through your nose as you started crumbling over so simple an action. It was as if time turned stagnant in the room you both lay, connected beyond your physical bodies. The world watched over you both, hidden away from everyone else, but completely exposed to each other. The slight discomfort that first came was morphing into something else—something infinitely more pleasurable.
You did not understand how Seungcheol made it so easy to make you whimper with the mere sliding-out of his cock, but you held onto him for dear life as his tip only remained between your folds. Foolishly you thought this would be the end of it, but then he plunged into you again, and the slight change of pace had you gripping him tighter, nails digging into his shoulders.
“F-fuck,” you rasped out, the familiar feeling returning, filling you to the brim. “Cheol, I…fuck—”
“Tell me,” he murmured, bottoming inside you once more, savouring your flaccid expression, lips parted. “Tell me how you feel.”
You could not say anything intelligent, forgetting all speech. How could anyone remember something so frivolous as language when your husband pressed open-mouthed kisses upon your neck, offering sweet nothings to you. He created this delicious, hypnotic rhythm of moving in and out within you, and you bucked your hips against him, unable to help yourself.
His hands stopped you though, pinning your hips to the sheets. Never stopping his rhythm, he whispered against your mouth, “Easy now…not until you tell me what you want.”
But he was quickening his pace a little, and you could not suppress the moan that escaped you, brimming with need. “Cheol, I—” you gasped, catching onto the dull ache that thrummed at your core.
“Faster,” you could only say after a time, fingers journeying up into his hair, raking through his curls.
He scoffed, unable to contain his delight at your change. “Faster what, dear wife?” he asked, panting as he reached the edge of your cunt again.
Maybe in another lifetime, you would have kept him waiting. To Hell with such a pretentious, cocky bastard, making you beg even when you could barely get a word out.
However, you were in this lifetime, being fucked by the greatest living general Venice had ever seen. You did not have the patience anymore—nor the self-respect to upkeep the act of hatred.
So you beseeched him.
“Faster, please,” you ground out, trying to break free from his hold on your hip. “Please, just go…fuck, faster!”
Seungcheol wished there was a way to store your blubbering and engulf it in his soul.
You cursing out—cursing which was not directed at him—had his body ready to burst into flames. The way you whimpered with every powerful thrust of his hips, eyes widening with his every heated kiss on your skin—he wanted to relish every little moment, your every movement his motivation to make this night unforgettable.
This time, he decided to be relentless.
He obliged you in the best possible manner, quickening his rhythms as he crashed his lips against yours, your elated panting the perfect encouragement. You traced his beloved scar with your tongue, bringing your hands to hold his face, pulling him closer, needing to taste him, engulf him, devour him before you shattered.
You knew your end was near when the same thrum—the one you felt before your husband undid you for the first time—welcomed you back, dull but imminent, warning you early on. You would have warned him too, but the way you clenched around him was implication enough. It was good enough that Seungcheol was not a stupid man.
He was a cruel man, though, when he knew just how to make you crumble under him. His cock thrust inside once more, hitting a certain spot within you that had you crying out, branding your hands into his face. You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to take it much longer.
His unearthly growl had you opening them in an instant. “Look at me when I’m fucking you.”
Your gaze would have rooted to him, but the ache was growing, spreading to the small of your back, down to your legs. He was pounding into you now, sharp as an arrow hitting its target, as focused as if he was in battle—this conflict between you two was special, more treasured than anything in his military prospects. Your broken moans, your stuttering prayers were a greater medal of valour than anything he had achieved in his entire life.
“Look at you,” he grated out, each breath shallow, in tune with his rapid movements. “Never…fuck, never did I think, in my wildest fucking dreams…” His hand on your hips travelled down. “Ah, you under me, begging me…taking my cock so—”
He could not even finish, his excitement taking over as he brought his fingers into the equation, thumb prodding at your bundle of nerves. You cursed the heavens this time, long-winded and dirty because you were going to die, you were going to explode with your husband balls-deep inside of you, and the patricians will find your body in pieces.
“C-close now, Cheol—” you began, but were interrupted with his lips upon yours because he understood. The pace was unmatched, your clit was incited, and the cloud of lust that passed over your mind had taken away every rational thought. Yes, the patricians would find your dead body in the Palace, and you would be remembered as the woman who died from her husband’s cock.
The worst part was that you stopped caring—you did not give a single care in the world, because Choi Seungcheol was the catalyst to your ruination, had always been, but this was ruination you welcomed with open arms. This was destruction at its finest, taking the forms of sloppy kisses speckled on your throat, frantic hands playing with your breasts, wandering fingers circling your bud.
So you decided to let the Victor of Venice take over.
His one last thrust into you was your absolute undoing.
You cried into his mouth as your release crashed down on you like cannonfire, body writhing, legs in disarray, cunt pulsating around the cause of such pleasure. Your entire soul went limp, sinking into your bed as you closed your eyes, heartbeat pumping as loud as sirens in your ears.
It seemed your completion was too much for the general, for he slipped out his cock, groaning just in time to spill onto the sheets, some of it spilling on your legs. He collapsed beside you, the great expanse of his bare chest rising up and down.
The two of you lay there, shoulders touching, breathing the world’s air as your minds reeled from what just happened.
Hand on your chest, your heartbeat refused to calm down.
You and Seungcheol had crossed the final boundary.
After months of this marriage, you both had consummated it.
Your cheeks heated from the thought.
That was possibly the best you had ever felt in your life.
And Choi fucking Seungcheol gave you that feeling.
It was almost comical how, despite your undeniable love for him, that thought made you twist your features.
“Do not tell me you hated it.”
Perking up, you turned your face to catch the very man that inhabited your thoughts. He, too, reflected your action, focusing his tired eyes upon you. “What was that expression for?”
You thought about torturing him for a second, but seeing the genuine concern in his gaze had you sighing. “I was thinking that…well, I have never felt this good in my life.”
The concern completely vanished. The grin that greeted you was insufferable. “I hope you know that you are never living this down.”
“I know,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself. “So savour it. I am never saying it again.”
He breathed out a soft laugh, running his hand through his matted curls. “Trust me, I will.”
Smiling a little, you looked up at the ceiling, levelling your breathing. Now, it seemed as if your body was feeling more at ease, as if it had stepped down from the clouds, and settled on earth. The two of you were quiet for a bit longer when the general spoke up.
“_____?”
Turning on his side completely, he propped up an elbow, holding his head in his hand as he regarded you. “Why did you not tell me you heard me that day? You know, all those months ago…”
You recognised the memory he was talking about. “Honestly…”
Your eyes stayed rooted to the chandeliers on your ceiling. “I did not know how to tell you.” Your hands around you tightened. “I mean, it was the first time I heard you say it. I could not understand it either at the time, but…”
Thinking further, you then glanced at him. “Why did you not tell me, Cheol?”
The general bit the scarred flesh of his bottom lip.
“I was terrified of your reaction.”
That had you blinking back.
He could tell you found that hard to believe. “Truly….” His other hand settled in front of him, inches from your shoulder. “You see, we were thrown together without our consents, forced to be in each other’s lives. I admit I hated the idea of you with me forever, but you…well, we are both aware of the extent of your hatred.”
You nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue. “Unfortunately for me, my hatred vanished quicker than yours.” He scoffed a little, stroking your arm with his pointer. “And the more I fell for you, the harder it became to tell you because your feelings had not changed.”
“The great military commander of our nation,” you chanted, “Scared to confess to a woman?”
His frown had you chuckling. “You are not just any woman to me,” he muttered, locking you in his stare. “You are my wife.”
It was difficult, fighting back a smile at that. “Still,” you insisted, “You should have told me sooner.”
“Well, I have made up for that mistake, no?”
The glimmer in his irises had your stomach fluttering. “I suppose so.”
“Suppose so?” he parrotted. “What happened to I never felt this good in my life?”
“I was lying through my teeth.”
The beady look in his eyes did not go unnoticed. “You keep convincing yourself of that.”
Your smile remained, though, tossing and turning from the corners as you kept thinking. The man was ready to lay down again when you spoke.
“I did hate you for this marriage,” you began, arms loosening. “And you are right about it taking longer for me to get to this point…I remember when I heard you say that marrying you was punishment enough for me.”
The man almost shivered thinking about that memory. “Hmm.”
“I did believe it for the longest time.”
You turned to him fully though, looking up at his forlorn expression. “I thought it was punishment, like you said…”
Your fingers reached out, holding his hand that caressed your skin. “But somehow, within these months, it has become a blessing.”
His fierce stare nearly rendered you breathless. Despite that, you carried on. “I meant every word I said, Cheol, even if it was in a rage.”
Your thumb stroked the back of his hand. “I love you.”
Seungcheol could have shattered.
Knitting his brows, he leaned in, enveloping his lips with yours in a tender kiss. You hummed onto his mouth as his fingers held your face, enraptured by how perfect his lips were on you, moving as if you both had all the time in the world.
When he pulled away, he did not stop caressing your cheeks. Strange, how he could not stop touching you—as if you would drift away should he stop.
“I love you, _____,” he declared to you. “For a long time I have kept it a painful secret, but no longer.”
Nothing could have taken away the joy that spread all over you.
And since your happiness was so utterly beautiful to the general, he had to have a taste, kissing you again, infected by your elation.
As the two of you stayed in each other’s arms, unable to part from one another, your thoughts began to wander.
You had wasted so much of your life despising the man before you.
Yes, you both had hated each other, but you wondered if, had you noticed the change in his demeanour, you might not have reflected on your actions, and seen past the lens of your hatred.
You supposed it did not matter much now.
Not when he was beside you this very moment.
A great, hopeful feeling blossomed that he was not leaving any time soon.
THE WEEKS AFTER THAT FATED EVENING WAS SO PEACEFUL YOU COULD NOT HELP BECOMING SUSPICIOUS.
Seungcheol was unable to stop smiling that entire time. You finally admitting to your true feelings was the catalyst to his happiness.
Of course, now that both of you were aware of the depths of your adoration, you and him could not keep your hands away from each other. That evening was not the end. You should have known from the start, but the general’s strength in undoing you numerous times in one night—over several nights—was a blessing you never thought you would acquire.
Sometimes, you would think you were dreaming.
The general shared the same sentiment.
Never did he think he would arrive at this point in his life. He had almost accepted to stay in a one-sided marriage, forever watching you from a distance, refusing to come closer should you step away. He was aware that maybe you did not hate him as much as before, but love…that was a miracle he thought he did not deserve.
In those moments, when he thought it would all slip away, he would turn on his side of the bed. There, he would observe your slumbering figure, so at peace next to his own, and he would have to fight the urge to reach out, trail his shaking fingers along the corners of your mouth. Never before had he slept so peacefully until you were beside him.
Everyone noticed your closeness with your husband after that evening. Because you had finished your portrait, the two of you were seeing each other outside of the workshop. With that, different patrician families saw the unadulterated fondness between you two, and wished for it to forever prosper. Minghao and Soonyoung teased you relentlessly for ‘giving in to the enemy’, but they would immediately shut their mouths when you threatened Seungcheol’s cannons to blast down their lodgings.
Of course, you did continue your painting, but, to Seungcheol’s great disappointment, you had begun to explore different subjects rather than resort to frenzy-painting him.
“Perhaps I should go back to being a stone-cold arsehold,” he mused one day in the studio, rolling his eyes at your still-life. “Then you can go insane and paint another twenty portraits of me.”
A click of your tongue. “Just for that, I am tearing those portraits down.”
“Okay, fine, do not paint me again.” He stepped over to you, feigning his most charming, innocent expression. “But at least give me one peak of the official portrait!”
You deigned him a passive glance. “You know what my answer is.”
“Please?”
Back to the canvas you focused. “Refer to my previous response.”
“Oh, come on!” He jutted out his lower lip, irritation rising. “Why not?”
Adding a few black spots on the fruit, you said, “Because I want it to be a surprise.”
“But I do not like surprises!”
“And I do not like you, but we cannot have everything we wish for.”
Seungcheol snorted. “Has anyone ever told you about your tendency to shamefully lie?”
“Has anyone ever told you about your tendency to be a pain in my backside?”
Now the strongest military general in Europe began to sulk.
You could not help sighing, ignoring him completely as you finished your still-life.
It was not as if you enjoyed tormenting Seungcheol—okay, this was a shameful lie—but you had to keep the portrait a secret from him. Ever since you told him of your complete changeover for the artwork, curiosity was getting the better of him, begging you to see the changes. Had you not cared for him, you would have tossed the canvas to him.
This time, you actually cared about his opinion.
So, although it was tiresome to deal with the general’s constant complaints, you managed to hold him off till the day of the uncovering.
It was planned to be the grandest affair. After Seungcheol returned victorious from Corfu, the Doge could not help but throw a celebration worthy of his general’s rank. Three months’ separation had helped with the elder’s temperament; because your own expedition was a success concerning Florentine relations, your father had to move on from the past.
Every patrician family was invited to the Doge’s Palace on this special day. Everyone dressed in their finest attire, the afternoon spent in gathering the guests in the grand halls, where the easel stood in the middle, cloak covering the military portrait.
You watched the people enter the halls, rubbing your palms against your skirts to wipe off the sweat. Granted, not very lady-like, but you were getting nervous. You knew you were going to present the painting to a panel, but you were not aware of the couple hundred nobles as an audience.
Maybe it was not too late. You could always escape—you had done it before, you could do it again. It would be quite easy, if you really planned it out thoroughly.
“You are not thinking of running away, are you?”
You flinched around, about to scream at the person who caught you.
The general’s presence had you quietening immediately.
“Jesus!” you cursed, hand on your chest. “Do not sneak up on me like that.”
“Blasphemy is a sin, darling,” he said. Then, he raked his eyes over your red gown, pearls scattered waist up, the golden jewellery, and he hummed in approval. “So is looking this exquisite.”
“You do not look so terrible yourself,” you muttered, gazing back at the mingling crowd beyond the doorway.
“Honestly, you think you make an effort,” he murmured, crossing his arms over his armoured chest. “Carrissima, why are you so nervous?”
“I do not know,” you answered truthfully. “I just…there are so many people.”
“So?” He shrugged. “That has never bothered you before.”
“Yes, but this is important,” you insisted. “This is my entire identity being set up for judgement. If the Senate does not like the portrait, then I am done for.”
“_____, everyone will adore the portrait,” he reassured you, stepping closer to you. “If you impressed the Florentine masters, then us common Venetians will be wowed without effort!”
You made a face at him. “Yes, but I took many risks with this painting. What if they work against me?”
“Hey…” He took your hand—his gloves caught the sweat from your palms. “Being anxious is normal. Taking risks has its disadvantages, I understand that…” He searched for the right words. “Sometimes, when I am in battle, everything I do is a risk to my life. In Corfu, my every word had to be planned with caution…”
He smiled a little. “The one thing I did not risk was my confession to you. And that is something I regret.”
You watched him stroking the back of your hand. “I was so scared to tell you of my feelings that…well, you had to hear it while I told my uncle. I wish that I had told you before you went to Florence, but what is done is done.”
His fingers paused. “What I cannot have, though, is you wanting to abandon a dream over its risks.” Then he brought his other hand on yours, covering it fully. “You are too talented for that.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, staring up at him. “I am still thankful I heard you that day.”
“Yes, but I wish I had confessed it to you.” He sighed. “So do not run away. Do not be like me.”
Nodding, you smirked a little. “So the commander of Venice’s armies is not as fearless as everyone thinks.”
The general shook his head. “Do not make me wish the Senate rejects you, dear wife.”
Chuckling at his threat, you slid out your hand from his hold, dusting at your skirts. “Right. I think I am ready.”
A midnight-armoured arm was held out for you. “Shall we?”
Sliding your hand in the space, you answered, “Let us go.”
With your spirits lightened and your heart determined, you and your husband entered the great hall together.
Everyone erupted into cheer at the sight of you both.
Congratulations were sung throughout the crowd, most for your portrait and Seungcheol’s successful Corfu campaign. It filled you with excitement, seeing so many people genuinely celebrate your achievement. That did not mean that your portrait had been accepted, but it was encouraging to see the support.
The Doge walked over to you and Seungcheol. Clamping your lips together, you dipped your head in respect, locking and unlocking your hands.
“_____.”
“Papa,” you replied, trying to be earnest. “Thank you for coming.”
He tilted his head, ducal cap shifting. “Of course, cara. Whatever happened before…let us put it behind us.” He offered a small smile. “I hope the Senate admits the portrait into the Palace.”
You returned his cordial affection. “Thank you again. Truly.”
Your gaze went beyond your father, at Councillor Choi, who was looking straight at your husband. With a sideward glance at him, it seemed he was returning the cold gaze with a smile, which was more a flash of teeth.
It seemed as if their relationship would take longer to heal.
“I must speak with some councillors,” the Doge said, a hand on your shoulder. “Enjoy the festivities.”
Nodding, you watched him walk to a group of patricians, asking for their welfare. You tugged on Seungcheol’s arm, catching his attention. “All right?”
Glancing at you, he said, “Oh? Yes, I am fine. I have yet to have a civil conversation with my uncle.” He went back to glaring daggers at his elder, who was now beside the Doge. “As if his reputation was damaged at all since we returned.”
“Forget about him, Cheol.” Your fingers squeezed his arm. “Today is about you. Do not let him ruin that for you.”
A smile. “Today is about you more.”
“Well, yes, it is mostly about me. You can have a fraction of my attention.”
“Is it too late to sabotage your painting, I wonder?”
You were about to curse out his entire family line when your friends interrupted you. The two idiots sauntered over to you, looking more extravagant than you in their blue and green attire.
“Ah, the man and woman of the hour!” Soonyoung exclaimed. “We were wondering where you both had run off to.”
Minghao set his mocking stare upon you. “I bet you fifty gold liras that she was running away and the general here was stopping her.”
“My God!” Your husband’s amusement had you scowling. “You should be a fortune-teller.”
The youngest sighed over-dramatically. “My talents are wasted on these people.”
You remarked, “You cannot waste what you do not have, Hao.”
“Seungcheol, when are you shipping her off to Florence again?”
The general laughed, patting your hand on his arm. “After running back from there to see me, I fear she is too obsessed with me to stay too far.”
You gave him an incredulous look. “Says the one who cried to his uncle about his undying affection for me.”
“There were no tears!”
“The way you were whining there might as well have been!”
Seungcheol’s scoff was harsh. “I would die before shedding tears over you.”
Soonyoung’s voice had you both pausing. “Do you both wish for some privacy, or…?”
“When you are finished bickering,” Minghao began, “You need to head to where the easel is. It is time for the uncovering.”
That had all humour vanishing. “Oh.”
It was time.
The general dipped his head to the dear companions in thanks. “We will see you later.”
“Good luck!” The two noblemen called as you and your husband set on the path of the portrait, covered by the red cloak.
It was a small walk, everyone quieting when they realised what you were about to do. The Doge was there, along with a few patricians representing the State beside the easel. The nerves were building up the closer you crept to the officials, fingers tapping a beat against his arm. Your stomach was somersaulting, threatening to spill out from your mouth. You were infinitely grateful for Seungcheol at your side, or you would have crumbled under everyone’s scrutiny.
Once you both stood next to the easel, one of the Senate members spoke. “General,” he said, “Since this is your portrait, you may do the honours.”
The said-man took a deep breath.
You, on the other hand, held yours.
Turning to the cloth, his hand reached out, pulling at the fabric.
The cloth fell to the floor.
Everyone in the great hall gasped.
The Victor of Venice froze in his stead.
The portrait had been changed completely.
He had to take a step back, absorbing the details: the subject looked straight at the viewer, right hand resting against the arms of his throne, the other gripping his chin—observing constantly. Gone was the Venetian military armour that you had insisted on; what was his midnight armour had turned into the golden chestplate of the ancient Romans, accompanied with golden gauntlets on his arm and a crimson cloak tied at his shoulder. The red tunic stopped just above his thighs, and his sandals feet rested on the pedestal of his throne. His right hand held the infamous spear, wrapped in laurel, and the helmet settled in his lap, glowing from your brushstrokes. The head, instead of the helmet, bore a wreath of roses, red as the blood he shed. His features were focused, gaze sharp, but behind his pondering fingers was a ghost of a scarred smile.
Seungcheol parted his mouth.
You had painted him as Mars. The God of War.
Everyone who was fortunate enough to catch a peek at the portrait let out noises of approval, whispers spreading through the crowds of your creation. The skill, the colours, the perfect resemblance to their general—every quality was praised in hushed tones.
The councillors, along with the Doge, murmured amongst themselves, undoubtedly impressed. You did not see them, though. Not your friends, the people who sung your praises.
Your gaze was rooted to the man who you painted—your muse.
You could not breathe seeing him so stunned.
The verdict came through, bright and clear as the sun that shone on the city.
“Lady _____’s portrait has been accepted by order of the Republic!”
The hall erupted into a deafening cheer.
Every single person in the Palace roared, screamed in delight over your acceptance. Minghao and Soonyoung broke through the walls of patricians, grabbing onto your hands, jumping up and down at the declaration because you did it, you did it, you did it! You glanced at them momentarily, your hands joining in their rhythm, but you could not stray from the statue-still man, staring and staring at his oil reflection.
“There must be dancing at once!” the Doge exclaimed, and immediately everyone scrambled into place, choosing their partners. Your friends promised to see you soon, finding their own dancers. Soon, with the musicians commencing their instruments, the aristocrats created a long circle. You and the general were in the centre, alone with the portrait. The people were so focused on each other, the celebrations, that they did not notice the silence in the inner circle.
Stepping beside him, you, too, faced the painting. You dared not look at him again, staring instead at his painted face. By God, he truly was beautiful.
Realising he was not going to, you decided to speak.
“I…I understand that this is very different from how I was painting the last one…I promise, I have an explanation.”
You picked at the stray threads of your gown. “You remember, do you not, the way I used to insult your military career? I never respected it, tormented you for it, long before we were adults…well, when you stood up for me that day, it made me stop, because…you were the opposite. You gave my art respect.”
You felt him perk up at that. “Now I know you have poked fun at my art before, but that day…when I truly thought my dreams were slipping away, you helped make them a reality. You believed in me when no one else did.”
Finally, with all the strength you could muster, you deigned him a glance.
“That is why I painted you as Mars. It is my way of saying that I am here for you, as you have been here for me.”
With that, you looked back at the canvas, heart hammering in your chest.
The people danced and danced around you, the lyres in full swing, tuning music around the grand hall. The entire world was occupied, save the two of you, who were alone despite the chaos around them.
The general broke his silence.
“What about the roses?”
You looked at him.
He was staring at the crown of roses atop his head, nestled in his curls.
A smile caught onto your lips. “It is the symbol of Venus.”
His eyes widened.
Venus. Goddess of Love.
“You already know the relationship between her and Mars…it is a gift for him. An offering of support.” Your gaze did not stray from him as you continued, “Venus, too, believed in Mars more than any other god.”
He knew exactly what you meant.
I believe in you, Cheol, as much as you believe in me.
Seungcheol let out a shuddering breath.
Catching on, you glanced at him.
“Oh my God, are you crying?”
Sure enough, the Victor’s eyes were glistening, soft tears forming in the corners.
On instinct, your hands reached out. “Hey,” you murmured, holding his arms and making him face you. Instantly he blinked back, pursing his mouth as he looked away from you.
You could not help saying, “What happened to never shedding a tear over me?”
“Shut up,” he guttered, voice a little hoarse. “Maybe if you just stuck with the original…”
“Come on now!” you teased, clutching his hands. “How was I supposed to be know you were going to start weeping—”
“God, you are cruel!” he got out, trying to wave off your hold, but you only laughed, wrapping your fingers further in.
“Okay, okay,” you said, unable to stop smiling. “Tell me. Do you like it?”
He still did not meet your gaze. “I hate it. I will have it burned the second this dance is over.”
You could not control your laughter. “Why then? I say light a torch this second and throw it at the canvas!”
“_____!”
“Seungcheol!” you countered, beaming as you let go of his hands.
With great care, you held his face, fingers cherishing the warm skin, the embarrassed blush that coloured his cheeks.
“Cheol,” you said again—softer, tender. Your voice had his hands finding solace around your waist. “Do you like it?”
Eyes glistening still, he leaned into your hold, tilting his head.
“I love it.”
His gaze could have reduced you to tears.
“I love you.”
Your smile was out of your command, lighting up your face.
“I love you too, Cheol.”
The general damned the audience as he leaned in, enveloping his lips with yours.
As you kissed him back, your soul singing at his touch, you knew that you were wrong.
Long ago, you made a promise that one day, you would kill the Victor of Venice—despite your lack of power, influence, resources.
However, you had to break your vow.
You simply had to, when that very man had given you all of those things—your art, which will extend beyond the city of water, your influence, your power—you had gained with his help.
And of course, you cannot kill the man you love. You cannot eradicate a soul so conjoined with yours.
As you broke away from him, you watched his eyes dancing. “Say, I have a question for you, carrissima.”
“God help me.”
His smirk was positively evil. “Would you ever make a portrait of me naked?”
“Hmm…” you mocked a ponder. “Never!”
“What? Whyever not?”
“Because nobody deserves to see something as heinous as you naked.”
The scoff that escaped the general’s mouth had you raising your eyebrows. “You say that, but we both know your reaction to seeing my cock out.”
Hurriedly you looked around to find nobody listening. “God!” you let out, earning a vicious laugh. “It was a face of horror, you fool!”
If that was not enough, he then leaned closer, cooing, “Please, Cheol! Please go faster, I need you to—!”
“Jesus!” you shrieked, instantly covering his mouth with your hand. “We are in public!”
His gaze was pure mischief—God, he was such an arsehole.
Hesitantly, you uncovered his lips, which were exposing a shit-eating grin. “So when shall I come to the studio?” he asked, fingers drumming against your sides. “Suppose I shall have to get priests’ robes to match your nun ones.”
As you watched him, unable to maintain a scowl at his elated expression, you only threw him another snide comment which made him laugh all the more freely.
No, you could not do it.
Even if he remained the most insufferable person in the peninsula, you could not wipe out your sworn enemy.
Once your sworn enemy.
Now, your dearest, greatest love.
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꒰ BANDAGES + KISSES !
↺ synopsis ; bandaging seungcheol at 1 am in your bathroom
f! reader, fighter/wrestler au (listen i wrote this during my five minute fixation on wwe after i saw a reel do not perceive me rn), fluff, sort of comfort ? divider by cafekitsune
seungcheol watched as you rubbed the alcohol wipe over his knuckles, careful in the way you let the wipe touch him so it wouldn’t sting.
your tongue wasn’t sticking out of the corner of your lip like it usually did when you were concentrated. instead, your teeth were biting your lip back softly. if seungcheol didn’t know better, he would’ve mistaken it with how you bite your lip when you were flustered at his actions.
but seungcheol did know you better. he knew you were biting your lip to stop any sad sighs from escaping, the same way you were stopping tears from escaping by blinking so much.
the brunette pondered for a few seconds on how he should break the silence, but settled on keeping the comfortable silence intact.
you were almost done taking care of seungcheol’s hands and urged him to turn around so you could take care of his back.
you winced at the marks left from his opponent during his match earlier but bit back your feelings, grabbing a cotton wipe to clean and soothe any scar.
“baby” seungcheol whispered, looking at you through the mirror. “i’m sorry”
you shook your head, gulping to swallow the lump in your throat. “don’t apologise, there’s nothing for you to be sorry for”
“i promise” you added on when you saw the disagreement on his face.
seungcheol started to turn back around to watch your face carefully. “how is there nothing to apologise about? my girl looks so sad it has to be someone’s fault, right?”
“not yours” you whispered, getting another cotton ball to wipe at the scar on his face, partly to distract yourself.
“how was i? was i cool?” seungcheol said again after a few more minutes of silence.
you nodded at his question, silently agreeing. you weren’t lying, it always impressed you how skilled seungcheol was.
“do you ever want me to stop?” seungcheol almost regrets asking, whispering it in subtle hopes you wouldn’t hear it.
but you did and you weren’t sure how to answer. after thinking on it for a few seconds, you watched seungcheol’s expression, worried about what you’d answer. “i could never ask you to stop because i know how much you love doing what you do. besides, it’s you that’s getting hurt so i’ll support whatever you do”
he smiled at your answer, coming forward to peck your lips while his hands circled your waist. “i’ll make sure to get hurt less, yeah?”
“it’s not your fault, but remind me to beat up that guy that you fought tonight next time i see him” you giggled.
“will do” seungcheol smiled gently, “all done?” he looked down at you beginning to put away the leftover bandages in the kit.
“not yet” you mumbled, pushing some of his hair back to place a kiss over the bandage on his cheek, and then his knuckles. “there, now i’m done”
#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen x you#scoups x y/n#scoups x you#scoups x reader#scoups fluff#choi seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol fluff#choi seungcheol imagines#seungcheol x you#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol x reader
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Nightmares
☯ Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Fem!reader
☯ Genre: smut, a little fluff
☯ Word count: 2.4k
☯ Summary: When your reoccurring nightmare gets the best of you, you search for comfort in Seungcheol's presence.
☯ Warnings: nightmares, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), multiple positions, oral (f! receiving), restraint, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby. slut)
☯ A/N: Please Let me know if I need to add any warnings!
☯Disclaimer: None of my work represents any of the idols included in any way. This is merely fictional and all based on my opinion as a joke! I have nothing against any of these idols and love them all dearly.
Please do not copy, translate, or post as your own!
Keep running. Keep pushing forward. That's all you could tell yourself as you sprint through the empty streets of a dead end town. You're not sure what exactly you're running from, but the fear that flows through you doesn't allow you to stop moving.
Glancing behind you, you see a dark figure speeding toward you. You know that if it catches you, that is the end. You try to scream but no sound escapes your body. No matter how hard you try to scream for help, for anyone to save you, your voice can't be heard.
It's closer now. You can hear the wispy hissing and unbearable screeching getting louder. The panic rises in your chest as you force yourself to keep running. It's going to get you. To kill you. You can do nothing to stop it.
It's cold breath is on your neck in mere seconds. Then it's in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. Dark sockets are all that exist where its eyes are meant to be. It's staring at you. Waiting for you to make your next move.
Your eyes snap open, body jolting up into a seated position. Hands clenching the sheets at your sides as cold sweat rolls down your face, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as you try to catch your breath. The time on the clock reads 1:06 A.M.
It's the same nightmare, every time. The dark figure never actually gets you. You just wake up when you know it's about to. Almost as if your body knows when to wake you up.
You can't go back to sleep right now, the nightmare will just start over. Knowing this, you sigh, sliding out of the bed. Not bothering to change clothes, you grab a jacket from the chair sitting in front of your small desk and leave your bedroom.
Slipping on your shoes that are tucked next to the front door of your apartment, you grab your keys and head out. Maybe a walk will clear your head. Some fresh air might help calm you down enough to sleep again.
Your brain didn't have a destination planned but your body did. The walk to his place feels familiar, almost as if your body is on autopilot—searching for comfort in the one person who never fails to provide it.
That's how you end up in front of his apartment door, staring at the white panels before knocking on the door. You feel guilty, knowing he will be asleep this late at night and you'll be waking him up.
Before the guilt can make you head back to your own apartment, the door opens to reveal a very dazed Seungcheol, clad in a black tee and gray sweats. He blinks repeatedly, trying to wake himself up and focus his eyes, squinting at your figure for a moment before he realizes who you are.
As he takes in your disheveled state, he ushers you inside, quickly pulling you into his arms. One hand rests on the back of your neck while the other presses against your back, pushing you flush against him. His voice is gentle when he speaks, hand rubbing your back soothingly, "What's wrong, Princess?"
Your hands grip his shirt at his sides. Taking a deep breath in, you let his scent fill your senses. The dull smell of birch wood with a rosy undertone—that perfect mix of floral and musk. His scent and the added warmth of his body against yours serves to calm your nerves enough to answer, "Nightmare."
Seungcheol hums in response, "Don't worry. I've got you."
He plants a kiss on the top of your head, his hands coming to squeeze your biceps before gently pushing you away from his body, "Come on. Let's get to bed."
Seungcheol pulls your jacket down your arms, hanging it next to his door while you slip your shoes off. You quietly allow him to guide you through his apartment and to his bedroom.
Still slightly on edge, afraid the nightmare will resurface, you sit on his bed as he moves to the other side. He lifts the covers, crawling underneath them, hand reaching over to you to run his fingers across your back, "Lie down. I promise I won't let anything get you."
Seungcheol knows about your recurring nightmare. You'd told him about it one night when you woke up gasping for air and scared him shitless. He had been nothing but understanding then and he is nothing but understanding in this moment—when you've shown up at his door in the middle of the night.
Giving in, you slip under the covers next to him, resting your head on the pillow. You both stay silent, not touching but simply staring at one another.
It's you who breaks the silence, guilt overcoming you once again, "I can't sleep."
Seungcheol responds with a tight-lipped smile, "Anything I can do to help?"
You shrug, not knowing what would get the image that is burned into the back of your eyelids to go away. His eyes are droopy and filled with sleep, but you know he won't fall asleep while you're still awake.
He shuffles closer to you, one arm resting under his head, the other crossed over his body. Your faces are so close now that you can feel every breath he takes, his nose almost touching yours. His hand comes up to run along your cheek as he moves closer, lips ghosting over your own.
You take the chance to close that final gap between the two of you, lips softly pressing against his. The hand that was once on your cheek, slowly moves down to your hip, pushing you onto your back as your lips move together.
Seungcheol's legs encase your body under his own when he moves to hover over you, his elbow resting next to your head to hold himself up. His tongue runs across your bottom lip as his hand sneaks under your shirt to rest on your bare hip. The kiss steals your breath, his lips aggressively moving against yours.
You grab the bottom of his shirt and tug at the fabric. His lips part from yours for a moment as he pulls the shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it to the floor before diving back in to kiss you again. Hands running under your shirt as the kiss heats up, he barely lets your lips part when you lift your body for him to slip your shirt off.
He nestles himself between your legs, his hips pressing against yours. His lips find their way to your neck, slowly moving down your chest, leaving sloppy open mouth kisses along the way. Rolling one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he swirls his tongue around the other causing you to let out a sigh.
A string of split trails from your nipple to his mouth when he pulls away and replaces his other hand with his mouth, sucking the other nipple into his mouth. Fingers running through his hair, your breathing stutters when he grinds his hips into yours, feeling his bulge through his sweatpants.
His mouth trails down your body, planting a kiss on your lower stomach. Thumbs slipping under the waistband of your bottoms and underwear, his fingers pressing into your skin before pulling both pieces of fabric down your legs.
Kissing his way up the inside of your thigh, he looks up at you from between your legs. Your breath hitches in your throat when his eyes meet yours as his own breath hits your clit. Whining at the lack of contact, you wiggle your hips only causing Seungcheol to let out a dark chuckle, "What do you want, Princess?"
He's so close to you, every word out of his mouth causing a shiver to run up your spine, "Please."
"Please, what? Use your words, Sweetheart." You can't see the smirk on his face but you know it's there. Pausing for you to give him the answer, he swipes his tongue over your clit, "Come on, Princess, say it."
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before answering, "Please, fuck me."
He flattens his tongue over your core before slipping it between your folds. Finally getting what you want, a loud moan escapes your lips. Your hips move to meet his mouth before he moves one arm over your hips, holding them against the mattress as his tongue delves deeper into your throbbing pussy.
Sucking on your clit and lapping desperately at your folds, he presses you further into the mattress. Eyes closed, breathing labored, and legs shaking as he devours you.
Heat coils in your stomach, fire burning through your body as you whimper, not being able to form words. Seungcheol quickly notices the change, shoving his tongue back into you, nose bumping against your clit as he purposely moves his head. The fire in the pit of your stomach swells, your whole body growing hotter, your moans growing louder and louder. A choked sob leaves your mouth when he curls his tongue into you, whole body shaking, making you want to scream as you reach your high.
His chin glistens when he pulls away from you, breathing heavily as he climbs up your body and attaches his lips to yours. You moan when tasting yourself on his lips. Your hands roam to his body, palming him through his pants, making him release a moan into your mouth and grind into your hand.
Quickly pulling his whole body away from yours, he pushes his sweats off before settling his hips back against yours. The tip of his dick hitting your sensitive clit as he drags it across your soaking pussy.
Squirming underneath him, you silently beg for him to do something. His hands run from your thighs to your ankles, grabbing them and folding your legs over on yourself. He holds your ankles together with one hand, your knees pressed to your chest as he lines himself up.
You feel the tip of his cock slipping between your folds, slowly easing into you to allow you time to adjust to his size. Hands gripping the sheets as he wastes no time pulling out and slamming back into you. He kisses your calf as he thrusts into you, hips slapping together.
His thumb presses against your clit, lighting a fire under your skin. Crying out when he picks up pace, your body shaking at the sensation filling your body, you search for anything to hold onto, hand frantically grabbing at the sheets and pillows before you hand lands in his hair, grabbing onto the strands for dear life. The moans leaving you get louder the closer you get to your release. Seungcheol's grunts and moans fill your ears. You know he won't last much longer as his hips start to stutter with every thrust bringing him closer to his high.
"Cum for me, baby." His breathy tone brings you closer to your release.
His hips slow down but his thrusts get more aggressive, pounding into you harshly, thumb rubbing over your clit faster. Letting out a scream, you cum all over his dick. Letting out a loud groan, he gives you one last thrust. You can feel his cum fill you up, seeping out of your cunt when he pulls out of you.
He lets go of your ankles, throwing both of your legs to the side and flipping you onto your stomach. Gripping your hips tightly, he pulls your hips up, running his hands over your ass before leaving a harsh smack that makes a gasp escape your lips. He pushes back into you causing you to cry out into the pillow.
"Give me your hands." Seungcheol's voice is demanding, raspy and filling with lust as he takes your hands, crossing your wrists over one another and holding against to your back.
He holds your wrists together as he thrusts into you, hips slapping against your ass as his dick hits all of the right places. He moves your wrists farther up your back, arching your back to give him the perfect angle. Fucking into your sopping cunt, his voice strained as he speaks, close to reaching another high, "Fuck, Baby. Always taking me so well. My little slut."
His thrusts get harsher as he lets go of your wrists, running his hand up your back and grabbing a fist full of your hair, pulling you toward him. Turning your head to the side, staring into your eyes as he thrusts up into you. He roughly presses his lips to yours, groaning into your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens, slightly pulling your head back as his free hand finds its way to your clit, "Who owns this pussy?"
Choking out a strangled moan as he thrusts into you, you struggle to find words, "You."
"I can't hear you, Princess. Who?" His warm breath hits your neck, his world drawing out another moan.
A sharp snap of his hips causes you to scream out in pleasure, returning to low whimpers as you answer him, louder this time, "You. It's all yours."
His hand leaves your hair, wrapping around your body to grab your chest, squeezing tightly as he fucking into you, "That's what I thought."
Hips pressing against you, thrusting harder than before as he rubs circles on your clit. Blinding light covers your vision, head falling back into Seungcheol's shoulder and body shaking at the intensity of the feeling of your release. Seungcheol holds you against him as he releases into you, pressing hot kisses against your neck.
Heavy breathing fills the room. Seungcheol slowly lays you down and takes his place next to you. He gently moves a strand of hair from your face, leaning in to kiss your forehead and then your nose before reaching your lips. Pressing soft kisses to your lips as he draws shapes onto your bare back, he smiles at you, "You okay?"
A short laugh escapes your lips, "Never been better."
The smile on his face widens, the rough man from moments ago replaced with the sweet one in front of you, "Do you think you can sleep?"
His voice held nothing but love and concern. Smiling back at him, you nod, "I'm gonna hope I have that nightmare more often if it ends up like this."
Seungcheol lets out a happy laugh, shaking his head at you, "You just have to ask."
The nightmare was far from your mind. There is no fear of closing your eyes and seeing the dark sockets where eyes should be because all you can see when you close your eyes are Seungcheol's love filled eyes staring back at you.
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whatever u say <3
smau oneshot, Seungcheol x reader
genres: comedy, romance, dumbassery, loserness
idk what possessed me to make this today but here u go <3
#seventeen smau#seventeen social media au#svt smau#scoups smau#s.coups smau#seungcheol smau#choi seungcheol smau#svt social media au#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#s.coups scenarios#s.coups imagines#s.coups x reader#scoups scenarios#scoups imagines#choi seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol imagines#kpop scenarios#choi seungcheol scenarios#kpop imagines#scoups x reader#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol scenarios
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how to get to know a dog (and their owner)
pairing: choi seungcheol (s.coups) x gender neutral reader
genre: fluff, an attempt at comedy, strangers to friends to lovers
word count: 5.3k
warnings: reader seems stalkerish at the beginning; i promise it's not that deep please 😭, dog. kkuma is the main character actually/j, mentions of food, choi seungcheol is down bad, lots of giggling, let me know if i miss anything!
author note: hi! this is my first full length fic and i hope you enjoy <3 when i say cheol is down bad, i mean it. i'm not sure if this is actually funny (i have no sense of humour). also, if you’re allergic to dogs i’m so sorry.
(i had to change the headers because it turns out that the original ones were not the choi seungcheol we all love !! a mistake on my part, and pinterest because it told me it was cheol?? anyway, enjoy reading 🫶) - moon
masterlist
i. let me introduce yourself
there’s only one true love in your life.
okay, maybe your favourite food comes close but there is still just one thing at the top of your list. kkuma, the dog that your apartment complex is named after—you don’t blame the owners in doing that. she’s the only reason why you walk faster to make the trek home shorter, and honestly, who wouldn’t love her?
of course, you only watch her from afar. she…doesn’t take well to strangers, even if you have been living at kkuma apartments for almost 3 years now. it’s fine though, as long as you get to see her.
you’re walking home after another long day at work, miserable because you had been scolded earlier, and you hadn’t seen kkuma before you left in the morning, the only thing that gives you motivation that early. you smile at the security guard at the front and he opens the gate to the green building you’ve grown accustomed to.
you dejectedly walk to the lobby entrance with a sigh after scanning your surroundings discreetly, still seeing no sign of kkuma. as you start to place your foot on the first step in front of the glass doors beckoning you inside to the warmth of the lobby, you freeze.
you hear a bark. KKUMA?
you move towards the sound, and find her being taken on a walk. hiding behind some pillars placed in just the right position, you watch kkuma and…the superintendent’s son, you think. you know there’s two, and assume this is the younger one by his pouty lips and how he’s on his phone.
you hear the sound of a phone camera going off, and realize that he’s not idly scrolling on his phone like you assumed but instead taking pictures of the cute coton de tuléar. you approve of him, understanding why he feels the need to click picture after picture. with one hand on her leash, his cheeks puff out as he focuses on getting the right angles—not like kkuma could look bad in any photo.
you giggle quietly, your attention back to kkuma as she turns in a circle and looks up at the phone, posing without being told to. you see the man tense, his dark green beanie slipping down over his eyes and messing up his bangs before he adjusts it. he turns in your direction.
damn it. he must’ve heard you. thankfully, the pillar covers you completely, but you still hear his voice shake as he calls out. “is…is someone there?”
suddenly realizing you could come off as a stalker, you stay silent and try to move away quickly, covering the side of your face with your hand in case he can see anything. however as you take a step away, you almost trip over a small rock jutting out of nowhere—seriously, it was a safety hazard—and squeak, completely caught off guard.
he calls out again, this time smug. “hah, i knew someone was there! just come out so i can see you. i know what you’re here for.”
your eyes light up as you turn. does he know that you want kkuma pictures? slowly making your way away from the pillar that provided you deep moral support earlier, you look at the man sheepishly. looking at him closer, you realize that he would be cute…if he didn’t have an obnoxious smile on his face. kkuma barks, as if she knows what you're thinking, but she only moves to sit down by his legs.
“so…” he drawls out, his arms crossed and the smirk never leaving his face. he clears his throat before you both speak at the same time.
“how’d you know i like kkuma—”
“listen, i know i’m handsome—”
“what?” you say, confused by his words. you don’t even know him. what is he even talking about?
his face falls, eyebrows furrowing together. “wait, so you aren’t admiring me secretly and spying on me because you like me?”
you shake your head at his words. “i’m only here for kkuma.” you stare down at the aforementioned dog and smile. (she’s looking off in the distance and doesn’t seem to care about the conversation you and her owner are having at all.)
“oh.” the owner’s son says, squatting down to pet kkuma with his head facing away from you—he’s trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck, isn’t he?
“well…you seem to really like my kkuma a lot, huh?” he says, reaching for a topic both of you can talk about. you nod sincerely, before bending down to his level to grin at her.
“if i see her when i leave for work or come home, i know it’s guaranteed to be a good day…most of the time. she doesn’t seem to like strangers, so i’ve never tried to approach her,” you say, not noticing the guy’s eyes on you, and the way his face softens.
he turns back to kkuma, petting her soft white fur. “yeah…you’re right about her being wary of others. i’m seungcheol by the way,” he introduces himself shyly, not over the embarrassment he just went through.
ah, you were right then; he’s the youngest son of the choi family who owns the building you were outside of.
you introduce yourself before turning back to kkuma with a sigh. “i should go inside now. i still haven’t eaten dinner.”
seungcheol hums in agreement as you get up from your position on the ground, and dust off any dirt on you. as you turn back towards the lobby, he calls your name out.
you look back at him as he smiles nervously. “you know, if you want to get close to kkuma, you can just be friends with me,” he laughs slightly, scratching the back of his head.
you stare at him. what is he even talking about? you’ve just met this man and what? he wants to be friends with you?
you smile back awkwardly. “um…i’ll think about it. i’ll see you around, seungcheol.”
you turn around, not waiting for him to respond before you hurriedly walk back to the front. truth be told, you thought he was weird. besides, you have enough friends—the nice old lady next door and your friendly coworkers are enough. why add some random person into the mix?
ii. ask very important questions
seungcheol glares at his older brother, who just won their rock paper scissors match. now he has to go tell every single tenant in the building that the in-house laundry machines are broken; a bet is a bet, and he lost.
great.
it’s seven in the morning, and way too early—he stayed up playing games until three am. it doesn’t help that he’s already pouty from yesterday night when you told him that you would “think about” being his friend. why would you need to think? he’s obviously an amazing person, and someone you should become friends with, at least in his opinion. (it is very much just his opinion.)
he huffs, walking down the first hallway on his imaginary list, recalling how his dad had forbidden him from taking kkuma with him; of course he couldn’t even have his sweet girl with him.
after answering the questions of those on the two floors below you, he finally gets to your door (or at least, he thinks it’s yours—he’s not a stalker or anything…unlike you).
he knocks quietly, and you open the door to his face…and immediately close it.
“hey!” you can hear seungcheol protest from the other side but keep the door closed. what was he doing here?? did he already expect an answer from your vague reply to his question yesterday? does he have no life?
you take a deep breath and steel yourself before opening the door more hesitantly, and a smile pasted on your face. “hi, seungcheol! what’s up?”
he stares at you, his arms now crossed. “you slammed the door in my face,” he says bluntly.
you laugh awkwardly before leaning against your doorway, blocking the man’s view of your messy apartment. “i was just…surprised.” you struggle to come up with a word for the panic you felt when you saw him.
he raises an eyebrow before choosing to drop the topic—he has a lot of people to talk to, after all.
seungcheol gestures in the general direction of the laundry room downstairs. “the laundry machines are broken today, so you either have to wait until we can get them fixed—probably tomorrow—or…yeah i don’t know.”
you sigh at his nonchalant words. of course the machines are broken when you have a ton of laundry to wash. noticing your expression, cheol raises an eyebrow. “are you alright?”
you nod, before shaking your head. no, you were not alright. you didn’t have any clean clothes to wear to work tomorrow! thankfully, today was a day off—something about a reward after the extremely stressful project your team had just finished. sure, you could reuse an outfit from last week, but your dirty clothes were scrunched up in a pile all together—it would feel wrong to. instead, you ask seungcheol a question…that would soon lead you to your doom.
“do you know where the nearest coin laundry place is?”
iii. go on laundry adventures
your “doom” is really just seungcheol escorting you to the nearest laundromat.
you pick up all your clothes and put them in a hamper, not caring who sees you in your hoodie and pyjama pants. seungcheol, ever the gentleman, offers to drive you to the place he recommends, and now you’re in the parking lot, wondering how you ended up in this situation. you swore you were going to avoid this weirdo but…here you are, going on an outing with him.
you sigh, before picking up your load and getting out of his expensive car. it’s sleek and clean…and definitely not your style, considering how big it is. seungcheol notices your discomfort, and assumes it’s because of where you’re headed, and not a general lack of excitement of having to do something different than usual.
“you know, the lady who runs this place is really nice! she gives me a ton of candy, and always says i’m like her son. i’m sure she’ll like you too, if that’s what you’re worried about,” seungcheol says, wringing his hands together before opening the doors for you.
you smile at his attempt at comfort as you enter the small place, a small bell alerting the woman at the back that there’s new people. it’s mostly empty, with only a couple of other people there.
you assume it’s the owner that comes up to you both as soon as she registers it’s seungcheol coming in and grins, clasping her hands to her chest. “oh, cheolie, it’s been so long!”
yup, it’s definitely the owner then.
the mentioned man smiles, and turns to you with a look that says “i told you so,” before greeting the woman back with the same level of enthusiasm. “it’s nice to see you, mrs. kim.”
mrs. kim turns to you, her eyebrows raised. “cheolie, are you dating this person? i thought you said you were single!” she smacks seungcheol’s arm slightly, covering her mouth as she laughs.
seungcheol looks at you before back at her in horror—though you swear you can see a tinge of red on his face like yesterday. “n-no! we’re just…friends, that’s all!”
you raise an eyebrow, never agreeing to actually be his friend but the panicked look on his face makes you grin. maybe you’ll humor him, just for a little bit. besides, the disdainful look this auntie was giving you makes you feel like she was going to kick you out if you said anything else.
“yes, cheolie’s right. we’re just friends.”
he sends you a grateful look—wait, did you just call him cheolie?
seungcheol chooses to ignore whatever warmth is building up inside him, and instead pushes you to the nearest free laundry machine, holding onto your shoulders after giving an awkward smile to the owner—this only adds to the slightly uncomfortable feeling in his chest. he drops his hands, putting them in his sweatpant pockets instead to avoid any other weird emotions (it doesn’t work).
attempting to sound natural, he leans against the washer machine before you shoo him to the next one as you open the door and put your dirty clothes in the tub. “so…” he starts. “cheolie?”
you look up at him, closing the door after you’ve checked to make sure everything’s in the right order. “oh. i guessed it would be more natural to call you that if you were my friend, right, seungcheol?” you give him a look before giggling.
seungcheol finds that he wants to hear your laugh more; something vulnerable from your somewhat tough surface. he scrunches his nose. “i would prefer you call me cheol…o-or cheolie, if you’d want to. no one calls me seungcheol unless they’re mad at me.”
you hum a reply, working on putting in detergent and fabric softener in the right places before taking a couple of coins from your wallet for the machine.
“oh!” you look to the side to see seungcheol with one hand pointing at your cherry printed wallet, and the other covering his mouth. “i love cherries! this means that we’re meant to be.” he says grinning, before the words register in his head. “like friends, of course, right? i didn’t mean anything else by it! wait, i don’t mean that like you wouldn’t—” seungcheol cuts himself off in a panic, face now the colour of his favourite fruit. what is he even saying?
you give him a weird look, trying to not embarrass him further by questioning what he means—it doesn’t work; he’s now squatting down on the floor, covering his face but peeking through his fingers to look up at you. “okay…cheol it is then.”
you reach out a hand to help him up from his new position. you can’t believe you’re saying this. at the same time, though, you didn’t expect him to be this…adorable, as much as you hate to admit it. maybe he isn't as bad as you think.
“friends?”
cheol takes your hand.
iv. meet their friends
you ❙
are you stalking me??
kkuma’s dad 🍒 ❙
???!?
you ❙
look up
cheol does what you ask, and flinches as he sees you right in front of him, almost as if you appeared out of nowhere. you laugh, joined by the barista on the other side of the counter in the small coffee shop—his name tag reads joshua.
you stop laughing when cheol doesn’t join in, the man’s eyes still wide open. did you know he was thinking about you or something?
you wave a hand in front of him when he doesn’t respond to you calling his name. “cheolie, you okay?” (neither of the two of you notice joshua’s smirk at the nickname or the sneaky look the deer eyed man gives his co-worker jeonghan, who has a similar expression on his face).
cheol blinks, and opens his mouth before closing it, his coffee left forgotten on the counter beside him. “you…where did you come from?” he finally says after he stares at you for a second.
you point to a building through the tinted window across the road. “that’s where i work! i just came over to try out the coffee here before heading home.”
cheol nods before looking to the side to the barista who had laughed with you earlier. “oh, this is joshua. and that,” he waves a hand towards a worker who’s now taking an order on the other side of the room, “is jeonghan. they run this place together.”
joshua rolls his eyes before holding his hand out to shake yours. once you take his hand and introduce yourself, he smiles sweetly before shooting a look at cheol. “he forgot to mention that we’re his only friends…well, other than you now, right?” he shoots you a wink. you raise an eyebrow, now seeing why him and cheol are close—they’re both a bit overconfident, aren't they? you wouldn’t be surprised if jeonghan’s the same.
your attention back to cheol, you smile at him again. despite agreeing to be friends approximately twenty one days ago (no, he wasn’t counting; why would he count?), he’s still not used to how…nice you are to him. your gaze feels like a warm spotlight on him, and he’s still not sure how he feels about it. all cheol knows is that he smiles back every time.
“i’m gonna head home now. send me pictures if you take kkuma on a walk later, okay?” you say pointedly, starting to turn around until you feel a hand on your arm. “wait!”
you look back to see joshua stifling a laugh at cheol, who looks at you pleadingly, holding you back. “don’t leave me alone with them!” he points at joshua and jeonghan, who had come back while you were talking to make drinks and actually do his job, unlike his coworker.
when you don’t give cheol an answer, he sighs before tightening his grip on your arm. “please…” he starts, running his other hand through his newly permed dark hair. he had texted you the other day, asking for your opinion; you told him the truth: it looked great. he hadn’t responded.
“why don’t i drop you off? i have to pick up kkuma to take her to the river anyway. it’s getting dark, and i would rather you be with me than on the bus.”
you roll your eyes at his concern before pausing. “wait. you’re taking kkuma out for a walk but not inviting me? and here i thought we were friends, choi seungcheol.”
he winces at the use of his full name before putting both his hands up in an effort to appease you. “okay, okay. you can come with us.”
both joshua and jeonghan raise an eyebrow at their best friend’s words and cheol groans, grabbing your hand and pausing to glare at the two of them before stalking off quickly with you behind him. “don’t you dare say anything,” he yells back at them on your way out, leaving the owners of the falling for u cafe giggling.
v. spend more time with them
you step out of cheol’s car with a strange sense of deja vu. the last time you had been in it, you thought it was big and pretentious but now…now you think it suits him, but not in a bad way like at first. huh. maybe kkuma being in the backseat helps.
speaking of kkuma, cheol entrusts you with her leash as he gets his jacket out from the backseat, and takes kkuma out with him in his arms. he ruffles her hair before fixing her bow, making sure it’s still pinning down her bangs, so to speak. he gives her a kiss, and you can’t help but find them adorable; cheol cares so much for her, and it’s obvious in the way he treats her.
cheol looks up at you, drawing kkuma’s attention to you as well. “what? why are you staring at me like that?”
you lift an eyebrow before bluntly speaking. “cheolie. it’s because you just happen to be so good looking.” you wink at him jokingly, giggling when he looks around in panic, hoping no one notices how red he is—thankfully for him, there’s no one around.
kkuma licks him on the cheek, trying to comfort him, and he smiles softly at her before putting her down and grabbing her leash from you—not without pouting and grumbling about how embarrassed he is, of course. after he makes sure that the leash is secure, he gets up, brushing off anything that may have gotten on him before smiling.
as you walk along the riverside, stopping occasionally when kkuma does, you learn more about your new friend. he’s not jobless like you thought he was—he works as a manager at a local finance company, and is taking a little break to use up his days off since they don’t carry forward.
when you ask about kkuma’s name’s origin, he avoids your eyes sheepishly. “i…when we adopted her a few years back, i was obsessed with roasted sweet potatoes and…it just turned into her name ‘cause we couldn’t think of anything else.”
you gape at cheol before hitting his shoulder in horror. “WHAT? you’re lucky that kkuma is a cute name.”
cheol sighs, scratching his head. “yeah, yeah i know. at least i didn’t name her potato, right?” you nod in agreement, realizing it could be much worse.
you shiver when a particularly cool breeze flits by the three of you, jacket a little too thin for how cold it gets this late. the sun had set a while ago, and you decided earlier to head back to the car before it got too dark.
cheol looks at you from the corner of his eye and huffs, looking away before giving you kkuma’s leash. “here.”
he starts to take off his leather jacket, his red and white beanie falling off in the process—you manage to catch it just in time before it hits the ground. cheol grins and puts his jacket on your shoulders, taking his beanie out of your hand before you can protest.
“what—cheol! you’re only wearing a sweater, you’re gonna be so cold!” you glare at him, trying to give him back his jacket. he shrugs in response, putting the beanie on top of your head, covering your vision before he adjusts it.
“you need it more than me. besides,” cheol shows you the inside of his sleeve, “it’s fleece lined!”
“yeah, yeah, whatever you say, cheolie,” you grumble before giving him kkuma’s leash so you can make your way back to the parking lot.
his lips stretch up slightly before he clears his throat. “of course! it’s your cheolie who’s talking after all,” he says, before freezing. huh, he slips up a lot around you, doesn’t he? “i-i mean that like—”
“yeah i know, cheol,” you cut him off by patting his fluffy hair down. “i get what you mean, so don’t worry about it.”
you continue to walk even as he stops, and turn back with a grin. “i’m sure i’m not the only one who can say you’re my cheolie anyway.”
cheol mirrors your expression before he looks to the side and clears his throat again. “well…totally.”
you laugh before leaning down to watch kkuma, hoping she’ll let you pet her (kkuma doesn’t even look at you, instead opting to stare into the distance as if she’s a seasoned sailor.)
cheol stares down at you softly. he doesn’t know why he agreed with you, actually. jeonghan had once called him a similar thing, and both of them had immediately agreed to never think of that incident again, the cringeness being too much to handle. even his own mother hadn’t called him that since he was young…but he always finds himself agreeing with what you say.
vi. giggle it out
cheolie 🍒 ❙
hey wanna walk kkuma with me?
we’re going around the block
you ❙
is that even a question.
of course
i need my daily kkuma intake
cheolie 🍒 ❙
😭😭😭😭
i’ll be in front of the lobby in 5
you get up from your bed, where you had been scrolling on your phone after work. after taking a quick look at yourself in the bathroom, you fix your hair to make sure it’s perfect—wait. you’re just going to walk kkuma; why are you paying so much attention to how you look? you turn on your phone camera, and look at your reddening face.
to tell the truth, you knew why you were making sure you wore the nice pants you rarely take out, and fixing your hair again. the thing you didn’t know though was when you started feeling this way towards cheol, like you had to be your best for him. isn’t he just the apartment owner’s son? the owner of the dog you’ve found yourself loving? you sigh, slapping yourself lightly on the cheek. that’s enough. your phone buzzes, and you catch yourself immediately opening it as fast as you can.
cheolie 🍒 ❙
where are u??
i’m leaving in the next minute
hurry up 😗
you giggle at the emoji before pausing, cursing yourself out in your head. you search around for a jacket to wear—it was late, and cold outside; you aren’t about to risk catching anything—and your eyes settle on cheol’s leather jacket, the one he told you to keep with a wink before blushing last week. you hadn’t worn it, but it was neatly hung on the back of your bedroom door, waiting for you to pick it up, so you do. you pull on his jacket carefully, his cologne surrounding you for a second as you rush out to lock your door, almost forgetting your phone on your bed in the process.
you wave to cheol as you step outside of the lobby, the cold air making you shiver before the warmth of his jacket covers you completely. you nod politely at mingyu—he lives a floor higher than you, and sometimes comes to your door by accident, though his partner is usually there to drag him back to the elevator and get to the right floor. mingyu’s perched on the ground, petting kkuma gently as she barks contently. wow, he’s got kkuma privileges too, huh?
“well, i’ll get going! have fun on your date,” mingyu says, winking as he gets up and walks casually to the front doors, even having the gall to whistle.
you and cheol look at each other before giggling, your cheeks turning the colour of what’s become a fruit dear to you because of the man in front of you. cheol adjusts his grip on kkuma’s leash before walking slowly, making sure you can keep up with him.
you wave at his parents when you pass by them; they’re talking animatedly with the security guard at the front about something, and you hear your name mentioned with cheol’s once you pass them. you turn back to ask them what they’re talking about but stop when you see the trio giggling to themselves. wow, does everyone think you’re dating or something? …not that you seem to mind it like you first thought you would.
cheol clears his throat, and puts a hand around your elbow, urging you to carry on and leave them alone. “so…” he starts, crossing his hands over his chest—huh, haven’t you seen this before? he clears his throat again, looking down at kkuma as she walks gracefully down the sidewalk. “you like my jacket, huh?”
you nod, and peek over at cheol’s expression—he’s grinning to himself, clearing his throat every so often. “yeah, i do. i mean, it’s not just the jacket that i like—” you cut yourself off before you say too much. you feel cheol tense too, and wince. why’d you have to go and ruin this moment?
cheol’s panicking, his mind and heart running laps together. what. does that mean you like him? he knows he’s definitely not good enough for you, that’s for sure. he coughs before looking off into the distance, avoiding your eyes, as if he knows you’re trying to analyze his expression. “you know, i could always give you more. j-jackets, i mean of course.”
you gape at him before schooling your expression to be more neutral, though the colour of your cheeks betray your true feelings. “pfft, you make it sound like we’re dating or something,” you laugh slightly before looking in the opposite direction. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? somehow, you’re making this situation even worse than before.
you sneak a look at cheol again, and stop, realizing he’s completely lost for words. his mouth is opening and closing like a fish, and he’s struggling to say anything. he looks straight at you and starts giggling instead, not knowing what else to do. you giggle with him, realizing how silly this whole situation is.
here you are, giggling with the guy you like, faces brighter than tomatoes.
you stare at each other for a bit before kkuma barks angrily, pulling on her leash as she tries to keep moving forward. remembering you’re supposed to be walking your favourite dog, and not just standing in the middle of the sidewalk and giggling, you take a step forward, cheol by your side.
you walk in silence again, the hysteria wearing off. as you turn to face another street, cheol mutters about how cold it is, and puts his hand in your jacket pocket, looking away and covering his face—his hands don’t stop you from seeing how bright his ears are.
you nod at his words before grabbing his hand in your pocket with yours and squeezing gently. “yup, you’re totally right about that, cheolie.”
sweet silence coats the two of you again, and you clear your throat, looking down at your feet as they step forward. “so…” you mimic cheol’s tone from before. “how many jackets do you really have?”
cheol, flustered now that you’re speaking to him, stumbles on his words. “u-um, i’m not sure,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his other hand over his warm neck.
you squeeze the hand in your pocket once more, before stopping and shrugging. “well…i think you’ll need more, considering you’ll be giving them to me, right?” you look up at him with a grin despite your nonchalant words.
he stares at you as if you handed the world to him. he grins, and suddenly you can’t help but giggle…again. if someone chooses to walk out of the surrounding houses and buildings, they would probably think the two of you are crazy. something must be messed up in your minds to be giggling this late at night in the cold, especially considering the dog with you seems to be in a bad mood.
kkuma barks again, not caring if she ruins your little moment together—even she thinks you’re crazy, and she has to deal with seungcheol everyday. realizing she has to take more active measures, she walks up to the two of you haughtily once more, and taps your shoe with her nose.
this gets the two of you to shut up. only for a moment though, until you scream in joy and hug cheol, your hands out of your pockets and finding their way comfortably around cheol’s back, as if they’re meant to be there.
you’re almost about to cry, being so happy. “kkuma likes me, cheolie!” you scream into his ear, not caring if it hurts him or not—he’s content in your arms, only laughing slightly before pulling away and booping your nose. “i told you she would like you if you became friends with me!” he exclaims with a grin.
you hum in agreement before shrugging out of cheol’s arms softly. “well, maybe friends…” you trail off, looking up at him with a smile. he chuckles before he finishes your sentence, “isn’t enough.” you both grin at each other once more, about to burst into another giggling fit.
the other choi sibling pops his head over the entrance, already yelling. “hey, choi seungcheol! we’re about to close the gates, you’re taking too long to walk kkuma!” he pauses, seeing you two smiling at each other with heart eyes, and rolls his eyes. “oh, finally! hurry up you two lovebirds, it’s late.”
you turn back to cheol, who has a frown on his face. “hm. i don’t really like lovebirds…” he caresses your red cheek gently before chucking again. “what about cherries instead? we can be a pair of cherries.”
you laugh, caught off guard by how corny he’s being before shaking your head. “whatever you say, my cherry. let’s get back inside before your mom comes out and yells at us, hm?” you say, interlocking your fingers with his free hand.
kkuma barks lazily at the two of you from the ground, her goal finally complete.
a/n (again): thank you so much for reading!! let me know what you think hehe i promise i don't bite !! lots of love - moon ♡
bonus drabble: number one
#dokries works#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#svt x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#choi seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol fluff#seventeen fanfic#choi seungcheol scenarios#choi seungcheol imagines#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol fanfic#seungcheol scenarios#scoups x reader#scoups fluff#scoups fanfic#scoups imagines#scoups scenarios
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Interlude No. 3 | csc x reader
Interlude No. 3: Life with a new baby is different, and four months into it, you and Seungcheol return to something familiar.
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.8k | Pairing: csc x reader | Genre: smut
Warnings: you and cheol have a new baby (~4 mo) so there’s allusions to breastfeeding and mentions of being cleared for sex, he’s injured in this too (but on the mend!), some body worship, tiny mention of not getting waxed in a while, mention of not losing baby weight (and not being worried about losing baby weight), facesitting, v gentle fingering, cumming untouched
Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, can have kids and lactate, referred to as Mrs. Choi
“She asleep?” Seungcheol asks tiredly from the bed, opening his arms to you as soon as you place a knee on the mattress and start to climb up. You find your place against him, pressing your ear to his chest so you can hear the soothing thump thump thump of his heart.
“Yeah, finally,” you sigh, laying your arm over his waist and hooking your leg over his. His arm comes up to wrap around your back and hold you to him as he lifts his head, pressing his lips to your messy hair before letting it drop back down.
“I’m sorry I can’t help more right now,” he says softly, making you let out a dissenting noise and shift up onto your elbow to catch his eye.
“You’re still healing, and it’s not your fault she’ll only settle down with me. It’s because of these,” you nod down at your breasts, fuller than they used to be and more annoying than they used to be too.
Seungcheol’s eyes gravitate down, his gaze heavy and hot on your tits before he flicks them up and forces a smile.
“Still, I wish it didn’t have to be you every time. You’re barely getting any sleep,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and trace the bag under your eye.
“I knew what I was signing up for when I let you knock me up, Mr. Choi,” you tease, hoping to bring back his real smile, the one that meets his eyes.
“Oh, when you let me? I seem to remember a lot of begging on your end, Mrs. Choi,” he smirks at you, his dimple popping and his charm out in full force.
You feel a flash of heat zip through you, slightly unfamiliar after four months of its absence.
You were cleared for sex two months ago, but between your new baby and Seungcheol’s physical therapy, you’re both too exhausted at the end of the day to think about anything but sleeping. It doesn’t help that she wakes up at the drop of a hat, and can only be soothed by you, your sweet little velcro baby.
Tonight, however, you think she may be tired enough to make it through the rest of the night, and Seungcheol’s rehabilitation efforts have been more successful than ever.
He was so quick to tease you back, and the way he let his eyes linger on your swollen tits has you feeling like perhaps tonight is the night you get back in the saddle, so to speak.
His thumb drags over your bottom lip, his gaze caught on your mouth before he braces himself on his elbows and leans in to kiss you. He keeps it soft, slow, sweet, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest as he relearns the shape of your lips.
It’s not like you haven’t kissed in the meantime, but they’re mostly pecks now, exchanged in the process of doing something else, or they’re sleepy and clumsy, traded just after waking or just before bed.
Now, he’s kissing you with a purpose, sucking at your bottom lip and swiping his tongue over the sting, setting his big, warm hand on your cheek as his sounds vibrate into your mouth.
It’s not long before you’re shifting over to straddle him, settling your center on his slowly hardening dick and boxing his head in with your elbows when he lays back down. His other hand rises to grasp your hip, pulling you into him before gripping your ass and starting to pull you up.
“What are you doing?” You break away and laugh breathlessly, staring down at him with heavy lidded eyes.
“I want you to sit on my face, baby. C’mon, get up here,” Seungcheol requests, though it sounds more like a plea, if you’re being honest.
“Okay, okay, let me get this off,” you agree easily, pushing down the voice that reminds you how long it’s been since you were able to get out of the house for a wax, knowing that he doesn’t give even the slightest fuck.
You haul your nursing-friendly night dress over your head, baring you to him, and he moans brokenly, both hands coming up to smooth over your waist and belly. “So fuckin’ beautiful, God.”
You can tell he wants to let himself soak you in, so you sit still for him and wait as he memorizes every new curve, every new stretch mark, every new difference in your ever changing body. You haven’t lost the baby weight and it’s not high on your list of priorities, not with an infant to take care of and a husband that’s on the mend, and definitely not when you know said husband will be obsessed with you in any state.
It’s obvious in the way he trails his hands over you, so reverently, so lovingly, his eyes following their path and his mouth open in awed desire. When he grasps your hips again and starts tugging you up, you know he can’t wait anymore.
You climb your way up his body, maneuvering carefully and settling with your knees on either side of his head.
“Fuck,” he sighs out, his voice tight and his eyes laser focused on your glistening pussy, the position spreading you open for him and letting him see everything. “Sit down, baby, get closer.”
You shuffle a bit further forward, hovering above him and reluctant to fully relax your thighs lest you smother him. That’s what he wants, apparently, because he tugs until your legs are spread and your cunt is covering his mouth, his cherry lips already coated in your arousal.
His next groan has a distinct whine-like tinge to it, and you’re about to feel smug at the fact that your pussy can make him whimper like that, but he lays his tongue out and drags it from your entrance to your clit, and then you can’t feel anything but bliss.
You’re glad your body is muffling his noises because he won’t stop making them, the sounds vibrating into you as he wraps his lips around your now throbbing clit and sucks. You bite back the cry that aches to burst out, grinding your teeth as you grind onto his face, his steel-like grip pulling you down even harder.
His mouth is so wet and hot, so much better than you remember, and it’s not long before you have to hang onto the headboard to hold yourself up, your muscles weak in the wake of his appetite for you.
He’s messy with it, shaking his face to bury it deeper, his nose bumping into your clit as he fucks you with his tongue and his fingertips denting your flesh as he starts moving your hips over his mouth.
Soon enough, you’re moving on your own, riding his tongue and attempting to breathe through the pleasure he’s giving you. It’s been so long that you’re already close, already feeling that coil wind tighter and tighter in your belly as he grunts and moans into you, already aching to fall into that love spiral, to find the heaven that only Seungcheol can push you into.
You don’t have to tell him, he knows instantly, slipping his tongue out and dragging it over your clit before pulling away enough to ask, “Fingers?”
“J-just one or two, be gentle,” you instruct, though you’re sure he doesn’t intend to be anything else.
He nods and sucks your clit between his lips, slowly easing one finger into you from behind, his eyebrows crinkling at how hot and wet and tight you are. You think his eyes might be watering, but you can barely see through the haze of euphoria overtaking you, gasping as a second finger slides in alongside the first, both of them crooking towards your stomach in a light sweeping motion.
He doesn’t move them in and out, doesn’t fuck you with them like he did his tongue, just leaves them inside, lets them fill you up and pets softly at your sweet spot. His mouth is more intense, his plump lips suctioned around your pulsing clit, taking deep pulls and laving over it with his tongue as he pushes you toward the edge so carefully, you don’t even realize you’re there until you topple over.
A hitching gasp escapes you, your body locks up on top of him, and you break, cumming with a rush of arousal and a spinning head, so out of your mind with it that you don’t even notice his hips bucking behind you as he spills into his boxers.
He doesn’t stop until you’ve come out on the other side, one hand slipping from the headboard to clench his hair and pull his mouth away from your pussy. You’re still squeezing his fingers, your cunt clamping down on them when he starts sliding them out until you consciously relax your muscles and release him.
You tip over onto your side, curling into yourself as you tremble through the aftershocks, watching as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, as if drinking you down wasn’t enough.
You blink blearily, reaching your hand out to smooth over his chest and down his stomach to find his dick. You find damp boxers instead, and have to swallow the coo you want to let out at the thought of Seungcheol cumming untouched, just from you sitting on his face.
When you feel stable enough to get up, you roll out of bed, wetting a washcloth with warm water and stopping by the dresser to pick up a fresh pair of boxers. He’s sleepy as he lifts his hips for you, letting you tug his soiled shorts down and clean him up with a gentle touch. You’re careful as you guide the boxers over his knee, taking care to avoid the newly healed suture line from his surgery.
He pouts up at you and opens his arms, waiting for you to find your place against his chest again and press a kiss to his lips before murmuring, “I love you,” and settling into sleep so quickly, you’re almost jealous.
“I love you too, honey,” you chuckle to yourself, not even upset when a cry rings out over the baby monitor.
AN: i wanna have a baby with himmmmm
i'm having so much fun with these lil interludes!! mingyu is next!
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#svthub#k vanity#seungcheol fanfic#seungcheol x reader#✨em’s interludes✨#seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol smut#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol x you#seungcheol x y/n#choi seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol imagines#choi seungcheol smut#choi seungcheol x you#scoups x reader#scoups smut#scoups imagines#scoups x you#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fic#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt smut#svt fanfic#kpop smut#kpop fanfic
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reckless plan | choi seungcheol
As you and your friends stood outside the dimly lit bar, the vibrant buzz of the night enveloped you. You leaned against the brick wall, a few drinks deep, feeling the warmth of the alcohol coursing through your veins. Suddenly, a thought sparked in your mind, and without much filter, you began to vocalize it.
"Guys, hear me out on this okay?" you slurred slightly, gesturing emphatically with your hands, "I want my first time to be in a one night stand."
Your friends exchanged glances, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Whoa, slow down there," one of them chuckled nervously. "Isn't that a bit… reckless?"
You shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Maybe. But think about it. No strings attached, no pressure. Just pure, unadulterated fun."
Another friend chimed in, concern evident in their tone. "But what about safety? And you know...emotions?"
You waved their concerns away dismissively. "I'll be careful, don't cha worry. Plus, I have a condition."
Now thoroughly intrigued, your friends leaned in closer, awaiting your next revelation.
"I want it to be with a foreigner," you declared boldly. "Think about it. If it's with someone from another country, the chances of running into them again are slim to none. It's like a perfect one-time thing."
Your friends erupted into laughter, shaking their heads in disbelief. "You, my friend, have some wild fantasies."
But you remained undeterred, a glint of determination in your eyes. "Just watch. It'll happen, and it'll be amaziiing."
As you took a sip from your drink, swirling the liquid thoughtfully in your glass, you added another criterion to your list.
"He's gotta be handsome as fuck," you stated emphatically, punctuating your words with a decisive nod. "And taller than me obviously. Body can be anything, as long as he's got that irresistible charm."
Your friend couldn't help but interject, a mischievous glint in their eye. "But what if this handsome guy turns out to have… well, you know, a micro penis?"
You paused, considering the question for a moment before responding with a shrug and a playful smirk. "We can always find other ways to have fun, right? Inserting his small dick isn't the only option. Besides sex toys were made for a reason"
Your friends burst into laughter, shaking their head in disbelief. "You really do have it all planned out, don't you?"
You chuckled in response, raising your glass in a mock toast. "Hey, when it comes to giving away my virginity, I've gotta have some standards."
Your friend grinned, teasingly remarking, "So, looks is still important to you, huh?"
You simply grinned back, raising an eyebrow suggestively as you took another sip, leaving the question unanswered.
As the conversation flowed and the night wore on, one of your friends suddenly declared, she needed to head back to the hotel, her words slightly slurred, you couldn't help but groan in disappointment.
"But it's only 11 pm," you whined, feeling a bit betrayed by the early end to the night.
Your friend shot you a glare, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Gurl, we started drinking at 7 pm at the restaurant, remember?"
You blinked, trying to recall the earlier hours of the evening through the haze of alcohol. "Ohhh, right," you muttered sheepishly.
Your other friends chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, it's probably best to call it a night. We're not as young as we used to be," one of them remarked with a chuckle.
Feeling a twinge of sadness at the premature end to the evening, you couldn't resist teasing them. "Is this what being an adult feels like? Can't even hang out past midnight without feeling exhausted?"
They laughed, acknowledging the truth in your jest. "Guess so," one of them replied with a shrug. "We just don't have the same energy we did back in college."
As your friends continued to express their exhaustion, you interjected with a playful smile "You guys, we're on vacation!" you exclaimed, trying to inject a spark of enthusiasm into the conversation. "Getting tired is a big no no."
Your friends exchanged tired glances, but a hint of amusement flickered in their eyes at your insistence. "Yeah, but even on vacation, we need to pace ourselves," one of them reminded you gently.
You sighed, realizing the truth in their words, but still unwilling to let go of the excitement of the night. "I know, I know," you admitted reluctantly. "But can't we just pretend to have the energy like in our teens?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of their lips as they shook their heads affectionately. "Nice try, but reality calls," another friend replied, already starting to walk in the direction of the hotel you guys staying to.
As you all walked together, the glow of the streetlights casting a soft halo around your group, one of your friends piped up with a mischievous grin, "Hey, why don't you stay here? Who knows, you might just find that handsome foreigner you're looking to hook up with."
You paused, considering her words for a moment. Why not, indeed? The idea of finally shedding the weight of your virginity had been on your mind for years, and now, in your late twenties, perhaps this was the perfect opportunity.
With a determined nod, you made up your mind. "You know what? Yeah, I should stay" you replied, a spark of excitement igniting within you.
Your friend's eyes widened in mock shock before she quickly recovered, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "Just make sure to use protection! We're not ready to be aunties yet!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and genuine concern.
You laughed, waving her off dismissively. "Stop worrying, I've got it covered", you turned around to your friends to head back to the bar, a sudden rush of nerves fluttered in your stomach.
As you walked back towards the place, lost in thoughts of anticipation and excitement, you suddenly collided with someone, jolting you out of your reverie. Startled, you looked up, and the first thing that crossed your mind was, "Deeym, this man is handsome af."
Your eyes met his, and in that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still. His features were chiseled, his gaze intense yet inviting. A rush of adrenaline coursed through you as you felt a magnetic pull towards him, a primal attraction that you couldn't ignore.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, caught in the intensity of the unexpected encounter. But then, a sheepish smile spread across his lips, revealing the subtle dimples that adorned his cheeks. He then extended a hand to help you regain your balance.
"Sorry about that," he said, his voice smooth and velvety. "Didn't see you there."
You managed to stammer out a response, your heart pounding in your chest. "No problem. My fault, really."
As you straightened yourself up, you couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was somehow significant. Instead of heading inside the bar as originally planned, you decided to take a detour, you scanned the area for a quieter spot to gather your thoughts. Spotting a cozy bench nestled in a nearby alcove, you made your way over and settled onto it, relishing the moment of solitude.
Pulling out your phone, you quickly typed out a message to your friends, your fingers dancing across the screen as you recounted the unexpected encounter.
"guys, u won't believe what just happened! ran into the most handsome guy eveeer existed. keelll meee 😭" as you hit send.
Your phone began to buzzed with notifications from your friends, you eagerly opened the group chat to see their reactions. Their messages flooded in, filled with playful encouragement and teasing.
"MAKE A MOVE! NOW!!11!" one friend exclaimed, followed by a chorus of emojis and cheeky remarks.
You chuckled at their enthusiasm but couldn't help but feel a twinge of shyness creeping in. "im shy, u girls know that," you typed back, accompanied by a sheepish emoji.
Their response was swift and merciless. "Shy? Come on, You?! Where's that boldness you were talking about earlier?" another friend teased, their message punctuated by laughing emojis.
Feeling a mix of amusement and embarrassment, you shot back, "hey, flirting and making the first move are two different things! 🫠🫠"
But they weren't about to let you off the hook that easily. "true, but how do you expect to seal the deal if you're not even willing to make a move? go get that dick!🤪🥴💦🍆🍆" another friend quipped, their message followed by a string of emojis.
You couldn't help but laugh at their relentless teasing, knowing they only had your best interests at heart.
With a playful roll of your eyes, you fired off one last message to your friends. "just go to sleep, seniors. see ya tom 😘"
As you slipped your phone back into your pocket, you felt a presence beside you. Glancing up, you found the handsome stranger you bumped into earlier, standing before you, a can of beer in hand, and a tentative smile on his lips.
"Mind if I take a seat?" he asked, gesturing to the empty space beside you.
A surge of excitement washed over you as you nodded eagerly. "Be my guest."
As he settled onto the bench beside you, you couldn't help but steal a glance at his profile. Up close, he was even more striking, his features illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. His eyelashes, long and delicate, frame his eyes like curtains to a captivating show. His nose, perfectly proportioned, gives his face a distinct charm. And his lips, a soft shade of plum, seem almost inviting, teasing your mind with the thought of how they might feel against yours.
Before you could let your mind wander, you decided to mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation. "So, what brings you out here?"
You blinked in surprise at his straightforward response, momentarily taken aback by his boldness. But a spark of amusement danced in your eyes as you processed his words.
"A hook up, huh?" you replied with a playful smirk, trying to match his cheekiness. "Well, that's certainly... direct."
He chuckled softly, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes as he took a leisurely sip of his beer. "Life's too short to beat around the bush, don't you think?"
His nonchalant attitude caught you off guard, but you couldn't deny the allure of his confidence. "I suppose you have a point," you conceded, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But isn't it a bit risky, being so upfront about your intentions?"
He shrugged casually, his gaze meeting yours with a steady intensity. "Maybe. But sometimes, taking risks is the only way to get what you want."
As he took a leisurely sip of his beer, he leaned back against the bench, a casual demeanor masking the mischief in his eyes. "You know," he began, his tone casual yet tinged with intrigue, "I overheard a rather interesting conversation earlier."
Your eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of recognition dawning as you realized what he was alluding to. "Oh?" you replied, attempting to maintain your composure despite the sudden rush of embarrassment.
He grinned knowingly, his gaze locking with yours. "They were talking about this wild idea one of them had. Something about wanting to have a one night stand with a foreigner, just to lose their virginity," he teased lightly, his words sending a flush creeping up your cheeks.
Suddenly, he turned to you with a cheeky smile, offering you his drink. "Care for a sip?" he asked, his gaze playful yet intense.
Caught off guard by his boldness, you felt a rush of nerves coursing through you. But you couldn't resist the temptation, so you nodded and accepted the drink, taking a tentative sip.
As the cool liquid slid down your throat, you couldn't help but glance at the can, your voice barely above a whisper as you muttered, "Was I really that loud?"
As he continued the conversation, his tone playful yet probing, he raised an eyebrow in mock curiosity. "So, let me get this straight," he began, his gaze fixed on you. "You flew all the way out here just to lose your virginity?"
Your cheeks flushed crimson at his bold question, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "Well, it's not like it was the sole purpose of the trip," you hurriedly explained, attempting to downplay the situation. "More like… a bonus plan, you know? And I'm with my friends, so it's not like I'm flying solo or anything."
His lips curved into a knowing smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ah, I see. A little adventure on the side."
You couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at his understanding response, grateful that he didn't judge you for your candid admission. With a shy smile, you took another sip of the beer, savoring the moment.
Taking a deep breath, you shifted the conversation, handing his drink back to him with a playful smile. "So, if you're out here looking for a hookup, what brings you to this very spot?" you asked, curiosity lacing your words.
He accepted the drink with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Touché," he replied, taking a leisurely sip before meeting your gaze. "I guess I just needed a change of scenery. Figured I'd try my luck out here tonight."
His response intrigued you, prompting a surge of questions to bubble up inside you. "And has your luck been good so far?" you pressed, unable to resist the urge to tease him.
He chuckled, his laughter echoing in the night air. "Well, let's just say I've had worse nights," he replied cryptically, his smile widening.
Your heart raced as you entertained the bold idea swirling in your mind. Summoning your courage, you took a deep breath before speaking. "You know," you began tentatively, "why don't we cut to the chase? You're looking for a hookup, and I… well, I'm in the same boat. So, why don't we just… have sex?"
The words hung in the air between you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of nervous anticipation. It was a daring proposition, but the logic seemed valid, two consenting adults with mutual desires, seeking a simple solution to satisfy their needs.
He regarded you with a mixture of surprise and intrigue, his gaze searching yours for a moment before a slow grin spread across his lips. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?" he replied, his voice laced with amusement.
Relief flooded through you as you realized he was on board with the idea. As he rose from his seat, a confident smile gracing his lips, he extended an invitation towards you. "Well then, why don't we take this somewhere more private?" he suggested, his voice low and inviting. "My place isn't too far from here."
You nodded, a thrill coursing through you at the prospect of what lay ahead. "Sure, why not?" you replied, a smirk playing on your lips.
As you walked side by side, he broke the silence, introducing himself as Seungcheol. You couldn't help but smile at the gesture, realizing that despite the hours of conversation, you had never exchanged names.
But when he turned to you, expecting your introduction, you simply shook your head, a hint of playfulness in your tone. "No need for names tonight," you said. "After all, this is just a one-time encounter. Why bother with formalities when we'll likely never see each other again?"
He grinned, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Fair enough," he conceded, his hand gesturing towards the direction of his place. "Let's just enjoy the night."
As you entered his house, you slipped off your shoes and followed Seungcheol further inside. The air was thick with anticipation, each step echoing the pulsing beat of your heart.
Casually, he glanced at you, breaking the silence. "So, have you had other forms of intimacy before?" he inquired, his voice low and probing.
You paused, considering his question before responding. "Just third base," you admitted, a hint of nervousness tinging your voice. "Nothing more."
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "Third base and no sex, huh? What were you waiting for?" he teased, his words laced with playful incredulity.
You bristled slightly at his teasing tone, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice. "I wasn't ready that time," you replied, your tone firm.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "And now you are?" he teased, his gaze lingering on you suggestively.
You met his gaze with determination. "I wouldn't offer you to fuck me if I wasn't ready, Seungcheol" you retorted, your tone tinged with conviction.
Seungcheol chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, that's true," he admitted, his tone light and teasing.
As he led you to his bedroom, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you, the anticipation building with each step. Unabashed by his gaze, you decided to seize the moment, shedding your clothes with confidence.
He watched you undress, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed your boldness. "You really want to lose your virginity, huh?" he remarked, his tone teasing.
You met his gaze head-on, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "Gonna make the most of it," you replied, your voice laced with playful determination.
Feeling the heat of the moment intensify, you closed the distance between you and Seungcheol, your hands sliding sensually over his shirt as you asked him, "Are you gonna leave me hanging?"
His eyes smoldered with lust as he met your gaze, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Not a chance," he murmured huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Now, lay down on the bed."
Obeying his command, you positioned yourself on the soft sheets, your heart pounding with excitement as you watched Seungcheol begin to undress. Each article of clothing fell away, revealing more of his toned physique, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of hunger coursing through you.
As he stood before you, completely exposed, you couldn't help but admire the sight of his body. Relief flooded through you as you realized he didn't have a small dick—on the contrary, it was quite big and thick, with prominent veins snaking along its length.
You gulped down nervously as you lay on the bed, feeling the weight of Seungcheol's gaze upon you. Thoughts raced through your mind as you contemplated whether his sizable member would fit inside you.
Lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize that Seungcheol had noticed your hesitation until he spoke up, his tone teasing. "Backing down already?" he mocked, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.
You bristled at his taunt, a surge of defiance rising within you. "Of course not," you replied, mustering up your courage. "Just... admiring the view."
His smirk widened at your response, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Well, don't take too long," he teased, his voice dripping with innuendo. "I'm not one to wait around."
As Seungcheol approached the bed, a mischievous glint in his eyes, you felt a surge of anticipation coursing through you. With a confident posture, he climbed onto the bed beside you, his gaze never leaving yours.
With a devilish grin, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing kiss. The kiss was slow and sensual, igniting a fire within you as you melted into his embrace.
Breaking the kiss, he trailed feather-light kisses along your jawline, down your neck, sending shivers of pleasure cascading down your spine. His hands explored every inch of your body, tracing patterns of desire along your skin.
His touch was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as he teased and tantalized every nerve ending. His lips trailed lower, tracing a path of fire across your chest, pausing to lavish attention on your sensitive nipples, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through you.
You couldn't help but moan in response, your hands tangling in his hair as you urged him on. "Don't stop," you gasped, your voice laced with desire.
With a wicked grin, Seungcheol obeyed, his mouth continuing its journey southward, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your abdomen. He reached the apex of your thighs, his breath hot against your skin as he teased you with feather-light touches.
Your breath hitched in anticipation as he teased you, inching closer and closer to where you ached for his touch. "Please," you begged, your voice thick with need.
With a devilish smirk, he finally gave in to your pleas, his tongue flicking out to taste you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. As he delved deeper, exploring every crevice with expert precision.
A low moan escaped your lips as he found your most sensitive spots, his movements sending sparks of ecstasy dancing across your skin. You arched your back, urging him on, lost in the whirlwind of sensation that enveloped you.
Feeling emboldened by your response, Seungcheol shifted his focus, his fingers replacing his tongue as he delved deeper into your core. With each stroke, you felt yourself unraveling, your body responding eagerly to his expert touch.
Your hips began to move instinctively in response to the rhythmic motion of Seungcheol's fingers, each stroke sending bolts of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned softly as the intensity of his touch heightened, your senses overwhelmed.
His tongue joined the fray, swirling and teasing your swollen clit with a tantalizing expertise. You gasped as the dual sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through every nerve ending, your back arching off the bed as you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensation.
As you reached waves of pleasure, you gradually let it subsided, Seungcheol's voice cut through the haze of bliss, his breath hot against your ear as he made his request. "Could you do the same for me?" he asked, his tone filled with desire.
You nodded eagerly, your own desire fueling your determination to bring him the same level of pleasure he had bestowed upon you. "Of course," you replied, a smile playing on your lips.
Kneeling down next to the bed, you positioned yourself as he instructed, your arms bracing yourself on either side of his hips. With a sense of anticipation coursing through you, you bent your arms at the elbows and leaned on them, balancing your body as you prepared to pleasure him.
Seungcheol lay back on the bed, his hips spread apart, his legs hanging off the edge. His gaze locked with yours, filled with a potent mix of lust and anticipation, as you prepared to take him to the heights of his own ecstasy.
With a steady hand and a sense of purpose, you began to lavish him with your touch, your lips and tongue exploring every inch of his throbbing length. With each flick and swirl, you could feel him tensing beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as pleasure built within him.
Lost in the rhythm of your movements, you focused all your attention on bringing him pleasure, determined to repay him for the ecstasy he had given you. And as you felt him teetering on the brink of release, you redoubled your efforts, eager to send him over the edge into blissful oblivion.
And finally, with a guttural moan of pleasure, Seungcheol surrendered himself to the overwhelming sensation, his body trembling with ecstasy as he reached the peak of pleasure. And as he collapsed back onto the bed, spent and sated, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you had brought him the same pleasure he had bestowed upon you.
As he released himself, his essence flooding your mouth. Without hesitation, you swallowed it eagerly, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.
A satisfied smile curved Seungcheol's lips as he brushed his thumb across your lips, collecting any lingering traces of his release. He brought his thumb to his own mouth, tasting himself with a low groan of pleasure.
"God, you're incredible," he murmured, his eyes smoldering with desire as he gazed at you.
His words sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, but as he reached for a condom, you stopped him with a gentle touch.
"Wait," you said softly, meeting his gaze with determination. "I want to do it raw. I'm on birth control, so it's fine."
A smile spread across his lips as he nodded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of desire and trust. "If that's what you want," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
Confidently, you positioned yourself on your back, anticipation coursing through your veins as Seungcheol hovered above you. But as he entered his length, you gasped in surprise, the sensation overwhelming you as you realized the full extent of his size. Tears welled in your eyes as you underestimated just how much you could handle. "Is it... all the way in?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling with uncertainty.
Seungcheol responded with a low growl, his desire evident in the way he pressed himself deeper into you. "Not even halfway," he murmured, his voice husky with need.
Holding him tightly, you buried your face into his neck, the sheer size of him overwhelming you. "It's too big," you whimpered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Please... don't move."
Seungcheol could feel your distress, but he also felt a surge of pleasure as you embraced his cock. Despite his own arousal, he was quick to offer you comfort. "We can stop if it hurts too much," he reassured you, his voice tender and caring.
Shaking your head, you refused to give up, determined to see this through. "No," you whispered, your tears falling freely now. "Just... stay still for a moment."
As tears continued to fall down your cheeks, he gently kissed them away, his touch soothing against your skin. "Take a deep breath," he murmured softly, his lips brushing against yours.
Following his instruction, you took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself against the overwhelming wave of sensation. And as you gathered your courage, you whispered a request for him to move slowly.
He nodded in understanding, his movements becoming more measured as he began to thrust into you. Unable to bear the intensity of the moment, you instinctively covered your face with your hands, seeking refuge from the overwhelming sensations.
But Seungcheol was having none of it. With a determined growl, he took your hands and pinned them above your head, his gaze intense as he demanded your full attention.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice firm but gentle. "I want to see your face."
Meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and desire. As Seungcheol's thrusts grew rougher, the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you soared to new heights. You couldn't help but moan his name in ecstasy, your body responding eagerly to his every touch and word.
His dirty talk only fueled the flames of desire burning within you, sending shivers of pleasure racing down your spine. "Your pussy feels so good, baby," he growled, his voice laced with primal need. "Clamping down on my cock like that."
His words sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and as he placed his lips onto you, devouring your insides with a hunger that matched your own, you whimpered in bliss.
With each thrust, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his movements becoming faster and more urgent as he chased his own release. And then, with a primal growl, he came inside you, filling you with his essence as you both collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs and ragged breaths.
As you caught your breath, savoring the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your body, Seungcheol's voice broke through the haze.
"You haven't come yet," he accused, his tone teasing yet insistent.
Before you could respond, he swiftly turned you over, positioning you on all fours. Gripping your waist firmly, he pulled you closer to him, his hips moving with a primal urgency as he penetrated you deeply from behind.
The new position allowed him to penetrate you even more deeply, intensifying the pleasure as he thrust into you with a relentless rhythm. With each powerful movement, you felt the tremors of pleasure building within you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
As Seungcheol's hand found its way to your swollen clit, the sensation sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. With each thrust, his fingers worked magic on your sensitive bundle of nerves, intensifying the pleasure to dizzying heights.
"Seungcheol," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea as your body trembled with ecstasy. "You're hitting me so deep…"
His words only served to fuel the fire of lust within you, and you couldn't help but respond with desperate moans of pleasure. But as the intensity of his thrusts grew, so did the rawness of the experience, and soon tears began to fall from your eyes.
Despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, there was a hint of pain mingling with it, a testament to the roughness of his touch. "Cheol," you whimpered, your voice choked with emotion. "It's… it's too much…"
But even as your tears fell, Seungcheol showed no signs of relenting, his thrusts growing even rougher as he continued to drive you towards the edge of oblivion. And as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming sensation, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly what sex was meant to be—raw, intense, and filled with a potent mix of pleasure and pain.
As Seungcheol felt your voice reverberating around him, a primal growl escaped his lips, driving him to new heights of arousal. With each moan and whimper that spilled from your lips, he felt his length growing even bigger inside you, stretching you to your limits.
"Fuck," he hissed through gritted teeth, the sensation driving him wild with desire. With each movement, he pinned your back against the bed, his hand pressing firmly against your skin as he continued to thrust into you with a relentless rhythm.
The combination of his rough touch and the overwhelming sensation of his length filling you completely sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Despite the intensity of the experience, you couldn't help but respond with desperate cries of pleasure, your body trembling with bliss beneath him.
As the overwhelming sensation consumed your body, you couldn't help but succumb to a second climax, waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless waves. Your body quivered with ecstasy as you rode the wave of ecstasy, your cries of pleasure mingling with Seungcheol's primal groans as he followed you over the edge.
With a guttural moan, he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy with exhaustion as he caught his breath. Despite his weight pressing down on you, you welcomed the intimacy, relishing the feeling of his warm skin against yours.
He shifted to the side, spooning you from behind, his cock still buried deep inside you, you felt a surge of contentment wash over you. With each pulse of his cock, you could feel him releasing more of his seed, filling you with a sense of completeness that you had never experienced before.
Feeling the exhaustion creeping over you, you began to close your eyes, the events of the night still swirling in your mind. Seungcheol's voice broke through the silence, but you were too drained to respond. Sensing your fatigue, he simply hugged you tightly, closing his eyes as he drifted off into sleep.
The next morning, you were roused from sleep by the vibration of your phone on the nightstand. As you reached for it, you felt a strange sensation between your legs, and to your surprise, you discovered that Seungcheol's cock was still inside you. Trying to stifle a gasp, you carefully removed it, ensuring not to disturb him as he slept peacefully beside you.
Quietly fixing yourself up, you slipped out of his place and made your way back to the hotel. However, upon your return, you were greeted by the surprised faces of your friends, who presented you with a cake adorned with the words "I just had sex."
With a playful smile, you accepted their jests, but as you made your way towards your bed, exhaustion washing over you again. But before you could even settle in, your friends eagerly gathered around, shaking you with excitement, urging you to spill the details of your escapade with the handsome man.
As your friends gathered around, eager to hear the details of your night with Seungcheol, one of them expressed concern about your abrupt departure. "Did you even say goodbye?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
You shrugged nonchalantly, dismissing her concern. "It's a one night stand, that's how it works," you remarked, trying to downplay the situation. "You have sex, and then you're done. No need to linger."
Your friends exchanged uneasy glances, clearly feeling bad for Seungcheol, but you brushed off their concerns. "He was looking for sex too, remember? It's a win-win situation," you insisted, trying to convince yourself as much as them.
Despite your outward bravado, deep down, you couldn't help but question whether losing your virginity in a one night stand was truly the right decision. But as you pushed aside your doubts and buried yourself under the covers, you knew that the night's events had left an indelible mark on you—one that would linger long after the morning light had faded away.
....... ≿━━━━━༺S.COUPS༻━━━━━≾ .......
#seventeen fic#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen x you#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#svt oneshot#seventeen smut#svt smut#choi seungcheol x reader#seungcheol x you#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol x y/n#s.coups x reader#s.coups smut#choi seungcheol x you#choi seungcheol smut#seungcheol imagines#s.coups imagines#choi seungcheol imagines
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౨ৎ pranks — csc
synopsis you try a prank on seungcheol but his reaction is not what you were expecting.
pairing seungcheol x reader
genre fluff
word count 0.6k
hani’s note guys…..the way i saw this tiktok and sprinted to get it written omg.
the video began tuning out as you stared into space, thinking of how seungcheol would react if you tried it on him. just thinking about it makes you feel giddy inside so you run to the vanity to grab a perfume bottle.
seungcheol was no stranger to your little tricks. and you’d think he would be used to them by now and know when they were coming but sometimes he is absolutely clueless.
“seungcheol! can you come here, please?” it’s not long before you start hearing footsteps padding across the floorboards until you see seungcheol’s face poke over the other side of the wall.
he doesn’t step into the room, more so just kind of hiding behind the wall as he pouts, “why are you calling me that?”
oh, boy.
“calling you what? come inside,” playing along, you walk over to pull him inside by his soft hand but he doesn’t budge.
seungcheol crosses his arms, muscles bulging in the polo shirt and stands firm, “i’m not coming inside until you call me properly…”
you huff sarcastically before giving in, “cherry, come on!”
beaming at the nickname, he finally walks towards you. he eyes the perfume bottle in your hand, gesturing at it with his eyes.
“i bought this online, thinking the scent would be floral but it’s not to my taste…smell it,” you spray the perfume into the air between you both and he watches, “can you smell that?”
“hm?” he tilts his head at your question.
“smell it, cherry.”
he leans in to the area where you sprayed and as seungcheol is doing as asked, you lean forward too, placing your hand on his cheek and kissing his slightly pouted lips.
to say he was surprised is an understatement. seungcheol starts giggling after you pull away, almost hysterically.
this was not the reaction you were expecting. okay, you expected him to just smile at you, and call you mischievous, expected him to tell you ‘i knew you would do this, can’t trick me, doll’. but he’s giggling? like an innocent child?
as you watch him go silent after a bit, you don’t notice yourself smiling, your cheeks hurting. you just watch him as he laughs every now and then to himself, fiddles with his fingers, struggling to make eye contact with you.
you slowly trudge over to where he’s slumped against the wall, mumbling ‘you got something here’ and wiping his face as if he’s actually got a little something on his face (he doesn’t). when you press a finger to his chest, he looks down at it and you take the chance to kiss him again.
ah, there he goes again, giggling like a schoolgirl. he’s adorable in this moment, you might just explode seeing him like this.
after some more giggling, seungcheol calms down and his big hands finds purchase on your waist, “i have to tell you something.”
you stare at him with curiosity. he’s not going to tell you that he knew, is he? nah, there’s no way he knew if that was his reaction.
“mhm, go ahead. what is it?”
“i…um, i kind of have a crush on you…” he trails off, voice getting quieter on the last few words and eyes fleeting around the room.
oh.
“we’ve been dating for so many years, baby,” you deadpan and the look he gives you makes you burst out in laughter.
there’s this fondness in his beautiful eyes as he watches you laugh your heart out. with one hand on the nape of your neck, he pulls you closer, tucks your head under his chin and laughs with you, chest vibrating and laughter filling the room.
seungcheol sighs into your hair, “you and your silly little pranks.”
“silly little pranks for my silly little cherry,” you sway side to side until you both stumble onto the bed and seungcheol holds you tighter.
seungcheol doesn’t think he could ever let you go.
#hani writes!#hani writes: csc#hani writes: svt#caratsland#scoups#scoups fluff#scoups x reader#scoups imagines#choi seungcheol#choi seungcheol fluff#choi seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol imagines#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines
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seungcheol being your plus one at your cousin's wedding. he's happy to be around your family, happy to just stand there and be polite and pretty ("i'm playing your part today, babe").
he closely watches your drinking, laughing at your jokes and the funny stories you tell about your family members. when no one's around, seungcheol is all over you, body spread on his chair as you lean against his chest, hand on his thigh. when a friend or a relative comes over, he quickly fixes his posture, bowing to the person and shaking their hand. "nice to meet you too- oh, thank you! thanks, it means a lot", when they praise him.
seungcheol takes you out to the dancefloor at some point, slow dancing with you around the newlywed couple. he chuckles at how the groom is crying, because he knows really well that he will cry too at your wedding, but he will never admit it. as the party grows wild, seungcheol does his best to hype you up, encouraging you to dance, and laugh, and have fun - he does too, of course, but he's also more than content to see you having a good time.
after some time, you meet seungcheol outside the venue, at the garden. he's quietly drinking a beer, watching the kids as they play tag ("hey- no, you got caught! it's your turn now, buddy") with a smile on his lips. he wraps his arm around your shoulder when you hug him, placing a kiss on his jaw. he doesn't look away from the kids though, still watching over them.
"are the kids reminding you of your members?" "those fuckers, can't have a simple night away from them-" and then you both laugh. it is, indeed, a very simple, happy, domestic night, though. seungcheol likes it.
#choi seungcheol headcanons#choi seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol imagines#choi seungcheol x you#scoups headcanons#scoups x reader#scoups x you#scoups imagines#seungcheol x you#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol headcanons#seventeen headcanons#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen x you#svt headcanons#svt x reader#svt x you#svt imagines#seventeen#svt#choi seungcheol#scoups
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glowing | choi seungcheol
SYNOPSIS. in which waking up with your husband in the mornings is still something you will never get used to.
PAIRING. husband!choi seungcheol x gn!reader
GENRE. fluff, established relationship, suggestive undertones
WARNINGS. vague mentions of sex, kissing, terms of endearment, cheol is shirtless sorry not sorry :')
WORD COUNT. 1.02k
requested from anon: Congratulations on reaching 2k followers rania!! for the event I’d like to request a scoups 42 & 49 from the 1st list!!
- #42: "You just have this glow about you."
- #49: "Come back to bed."
notes: first fic of the event!! anon knew what they were doing selecting these prompts istg hehe i hope u all enjoy <3
join the 2k celebration!
The rays of the late morning cower over your eyelids, slowly but surely nudging you out of your slumber. Somehow, you manage to peek open one reluctant eye, a sliver at first, then wider as you take in the sight around you. The bedroom is bathed in a beautiful golden glow. Shadows of the trees outside dance playfully across the ceiling and walls. All of this is enough to coax the smallest of smiles on your face𑁋the first of many today, you think.
You attempt to move, but you don't get very far. And instead, your eyes trail over to the body right next to you, taking sight of your sleepy husband buried in deep within the sheets, an arm draped loosely over your body underneath the duvet. He's still shirtless. You notice from the way the morning light gently kisses the bare skin of his shoulders where the blanket has ridden down.
The room is quiet, except for the soft rhythm of Seungcheol's deep breathing and quiet snores, and it grants you all the opportunity to be able to admire how peaceful he looks right now. It gives you the urge to fall back to sleep as well, but honestly, you're really damn hungry, and someone needs to make breakfast, or brunch, or whatever time it is right now.
With a reluctant sigh, you carefully untangle yourself from the comfort of the covers and Seungcheol's warmth, the cool air of the room sending a shiver down your spine when you sit up in bed. You take a minute to stretch out the certain soreness to your limbs, a small tug at your lips when a remnant of the night before flashes through your mind, but you try to brush it off as you stand up to walk out of the bedroom.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The voice is deep and thick with sleep, and you freeze up just before reaching for the door. You turn to see Seungcheol propping himself up on one elbow, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips, peering at you with half-lidded, sleepy eyes. His hair falls across his forehead both messily and endearingly, and you feel a particular warmth bloom in your chest.
"I was just, uh..." You don't know why you suddenly feel so self-conscious under his gaze, even after he kissed, touched, and whispered praises against every inch of you last night. "...going to make some breakfast for us."
Seungcheol just chuckles, and you can't seem to tear your eyes away from the way the covers slip down a little more. "I'm not letting you get away so easily, you know."
"But Cheol𑁋"
"Come back to bed," he pleads calmly, simply, softly. "Please."
There's something about the way he's looking at you right now that makes your heart stammer in your chest. It's a look you know well. A look of fondness. A look that holds itself comfortably in the space between your ribs.
You wake up together literally every single day, but you don't know if you could ever get used to this overwhelming feeling of being adored. It's like being wrapped in a warm, secure, fuzzy blanket, yet it's not just around your body; it's around your heart too.
"Okay," You finally relent quietly, and you let out a hearty squeal the second you walk back to the bed and he tugs you by the hands to pull you back into bed, back into his arms. It feels like coming home, every time.
You find yourself on top of him when his lips meet yours in a soft, slow kiss that has those flutters erupting wildly in your stomach once again. You feel the way his hand comes to cradle the base of your neck to pull you closer as the kiss deepens ever so slightly.
Even when you pull away, he doesn't hesitate to litter a few small, appreciative kisses down to your neck and exposed collarbones, the low hums leaving his lips caressing over your skin so tenderly and affectionately. You sigh out his name again, and Seungcheol draws back to look at you.
He's staring at you again. Not that you don't mind, of course, but the heat growing in your face is practically impossible to ignore.
You let out a breathless exhale, biting down at your bottom lip sheepishly. "What?"
Seungcheol lets his eyes flicker over you once more, before a small smile spreads across his features. His hands trail down to plant themselves firmly at your waist, letting his thumbs gently tracing shapes at the skin there.
"You just have this glow about you," he points out. "It's ridiculously attractive."
You glance down at yourself for a second as if you're actually glowing, before back up at him even more shyly than before. "Stop it."
"I'm serious, sweetheart," Seungcheol just insists and leans in back close to your face, his words melting away the last of your defenses. "You're absolutely beautiful, and it's an honour to be able to tell you that every single morning for as long as I breathe. It's an honour to love you."
His words momentarily snap you back to all the times he's whispered those same words to you during the moments between the sheets, or in the light of day when you're out on a date or basking in the familiarity of staying home, and the world seems to brighten a little more each time.
And maybe, yes, it's just the sunlight shining on you that has you 'glowing', but that's not exactly the case in Seungcheol's eyes, and it's hard to put to words.
Everything about you𑁋from the tiniest hint of a lift to your lips, to the dilation and sparkle in your pupils, to just you and your presence altogether𑁋just seems to radiate across every corner and crevice of the room. And Seungcheol can feel it seep within his own bones and warm him from the inside out. It's a feeling he finds himself wanting to chase after every single day; just a feeling he finds only in you.
You're glowing because you're in love, to simply put.
I'm in love. You're in love.
This is love.
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