#seungcheol scenarios

[cherry-zip]

─ • CSC .ᐟ Kindergarten Crush

› content ┆ ceo scoups x kindergarten teacher fem reader, fluff ✎ word-count .ᐟ 3.3k. ⌁ summary ┆CEO Choi Seungcheol can not help but fall in love with the one kindergaten teacher who takes best care of his son while he is late. He's making it his mission to be the best father so you would accept to love and take care of him too.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated!

It was the kind of late afternoon when the last streaks of sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow on the cozy space inside. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of a cartoon playing on the projector screen. A blanket was spread across the floor, surrounded by pillows of every shape and color. In the middle of it all were two figures: a small boy, whose legs were tucked beneath him as he sat cross-legged on the blanket, and his teacher, you, sitting beside him with a gentle smile on your face.

You were everything a child could ask for in a teacher—warm, caring, and endlessly patient. Your laughter was infectious, and your ability to make every child feel seen and heard was unmatched. You had a particular soft spot for one student in your class, a tiny boy named Seungwoo. He was shy, and often a bit reserved, but there was something in his wide eyes and sweet smile that melted your heart every time.

That day, Seungwoo had stayed after school, as he often did, for some extra playtime in the reading zone waiting for his father to pick him up. His classmates had all gone home, and you had promised him you'd watch his favorite cartoon together. And so, there you both were—Seungwoo nibbling on a cookie as he snuggled into a pillow beside you.

"Are you sure your mom and dad don't mind you staying a bit longer, Seungwoo?" you asked softly, your eyes twinkling with affection as you handed him another cookie.

Seungwoo shook his head, a tiny smile forming on his lips. "Dad's always busy, but he likes it when I stay here. He says I’m safe with you."

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words. "Well, you're safe with me anytime, sweetie. And I'll always have cookies and cartoons waiting for you."

Just as the cartoon reached its climax, the sound of the door opening made you turn. Standing in the doorway, looking every bit as polished and serious as he always did, was Choi Seungcheol, the CEO of a major tech company. Also well known for his handsome looks. His sharp dark suit and expensive watch contrasted with the cozy, colorful childlike atmosphere of the classroom, but the sight before him made his chest tighten.

There, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was his son Seungwoo, laughing and enjoying his time with you. You were sharing cookies, the kind you always baked with your students in mind, and sipping on fruit juice as you watched the cartoon. The sight of you—your gentle smile as you carefully adjusted a pillow for Seungwoo, the way Seungwoo’s face lit up every time you spoke—was so pure, so heartwarming, that Seungcheol’s heart skipped a beat.

His usual sharp and composed demeanor faltered for a split second as he stood there, taking in the moment. He hadn’t expected to find such a sweet scene after his long day of meetings, but it was exactly what he needed to see. It felt like everything he had worked so hard for—his long hours and high-pressure job—was being undone by something as simple as this: someone’s love and attention for his son.

You noticed him standing there, and your face lit up in that familiar, welcoming smile. "Ah, Mr. Choi! I didn’t expect you this late. Seungwoo wanted to stay a little longer, so we’re just finishing up with some cookies and a cartoon. How was your meeting?"

Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile, softer than usual. "It went well, thank you. I’m sorry for being late."

Seungwoo, noticing his father, scrambled to his feet, rushing over to him with a bright grin. "Dad! You’re here!" he exclaimed, holding up a cookie in the offering. "Want one?"

Seungcheol’s heart melted at his son’s enthusiasm. "Sure," he said, crouching down to accept the cookie, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. You smiled at him kindly, and for the first time in a long while, Seungcheol felt his shoulders relax.

As they all sat together on the blanket, Seungwoo between you two, Seungcheol found himself drawn into the warmth of the moment. The laughter and comfort that filled the room seemed to melt away the tension of his busy, corporate life. It was strange, how just being in this simple, peaceful setting made everything feel... right.

Over the next few weeks, Seungcheol made a quiet promise to himself. He had always been a man of routine, arriving at the school late after long hours of meetings, but now he found himself arriving just a little earlier each day. He would make sure to stop by the classroom after work, even if just for a few minutes. He wanted to see that smile you always greeted him with, to hear your gentle voice speaking to his son, making him feel safe and cared for.

Every time he saw you, a flutter would rise in his chest. You were so effortlessly kind, so good to Seungwoo. He had never realized how much of an impact a teacher could have on a child’s life until now. And perhaps—just perhaps—he was beginning to wonder what kind of impact you could have on his life, too.

One afternoon, as he arrived a little earlier than usual, you were sitting at your desk, grading papers with a focused expression. Your hair was loosely tied back, and the soft light from the window framed your face in a way that made you look even more beautiful. Seungcheol hesitated for a moment before knocking softly on the doorframe.

"Hi," he said, his voice low but steady.

You looked up and smiled warmly. "Mr. Choi, you’re early today. Is everything alright?"

He took a deep breath, the weight of the moment not lost on him. "Yes. Everything’s fine," he replied. "I... I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you do for Seungwoo. He really loves being here with you."

You blinked in surprise at the sincerity in his voice. "It’s my pleasure, Mr. Choi. Seungwoo is such a sweet boy. He’s a joy to have in class."

Seungcheol’s heart skipped a beat at your words. He stood there for a moment longer, unsure of how to express what he was feeling. But there, in the quiet space of the classroom, he realized that perhaps some things didn’t need words. Not yet, anyway.

As he walked over to where Seungwoo was playing with a set of blocks, you joined them, and for the first time in a long while, Seungcheol didn’t mind staying a little longer. He knew he would be coming to school more often now, not just to pick up his son, but because—perhaps—there was more to discover in this little classroom with its cozy reading zone, pillows, and blankets.

It wasn’t just the cookies that kept him coming back. It was you.

The following days seemed to pass in a blur, but each one held something special for him. He found himself eagerly anticipating the moment when he'd arrive at the school, hoping to catch just a glimpse of you. And it wasn’t just about Seungwoo anymore—though, of course, he adored his son and cherished the time they spent together. But there was something else now, something he couldn't quite put into words, that drew him back to the classroom every day.

Each afternoon, he would arrive a little earlier, hoping to find the moment when you and Seungwoo were still together, sharing their cookies and watching cartoons. He loved the way you laughed at the silly moments in the show and the way you gently encouraged Seungwoo to try new things, even as you made him feel comfortable at his own pace.

One particular Thursday, Seungcheol arrived with a little more excitement than usual. He had no meetings scheduled for the afternoon, so he was able to leave work early. When he entered the school, he was greeted by the soft murmur of children’s voices and the sweet scent of cookies wafting through the hallway. He smiled to himself as he walked toward the classroom. He could hear the familiar sound of your voice before he even reached the door.

"Okay, Seungwoo, what’s your guess? Will it be the blue one or the green one?"

Seungwoo giggled. "The green one! It’s always the green one!"

He stopped for a moment, listening to the laughter. He couldn't help but smile, feeling warmth in his chest. He pushed open the door and saw a familiar scenery—Seungwoo sitting on the blanket, legs crossed, with you beside him. You were playing a guessing game, and there were cookies scattered around. Your eyes lit up when you saw him.

"Mr. Choi! You’re here early today!" you said, your voice full of pleasant surprise.

Seungcheol, slightly embarrassed by how eager he felt, nodded. "I finished my work early. Thought I’d pick Seungwoo up and maybe stay for a bit."

You smiled warmly, your gaze lingering just a little longer than usual. "You’re welcome to join us, of course. We were just playing a game. Want to try?"

Seungwoo looked up, his face lighting up. "Dad, you can play too! We’re guessing the color of the candy!"

He chuckled, feeling an unexpected sense of comfort. He was used to boardroom meetings, not children's games, but something about being in this space with you and Seungwoo made him feel at ease. "Alright, I’ll give it a try," he said, taking a seat on the floor beside them. The warmth of the moment was enough to make him forget the hectic hours he spent in high-rise offices.

As you played the game, he found himself enjoying the simplicity of the moment. He listened to Seungwoo’s innocent guesses and watched you with encouraging smiles. Your laughter echoed in his heart, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was experiencing something rare, something that transcended the world of high-powered deals and deadlines.

It was clear that you had a way of making everyone around you feel special. Your love for teaching, your care for each student, and your kindness toward them had started to make a significant impact. He found himself lingering a little longer each day, unable to tear himself away from the peaceful atmosphere you created in that little classroom.

By Friday, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Seungcheol realized that he was beginning to look forward to his time together with you, even if it was just a few minutes at the end of the day. He wanted to know more about the person who had become such an important part of his son’s life. And—though he couldn’t quite admit it yet—he wanted to know more about the woman who made his heart skip every time you smiled at him.

The day dragged on longer than usual, but Seungcheol finally made his way to the school, arriving as the final bell rang. He didn’t rush this time; he took his time, knowing he had a few extra minutes to spare. When he walked into the classroom, he found you packing up some of your things.

"Miss Y/N," he said, his voice a little softer than usual, "I wanted to thank you again for everything you’ve been doing for Seungwoo. He really enjoys his time here, and I can tell he’s learning so much from you."

You smiled up at him from the desk, your eyes warm and kind. "It’s my pleasure, Mr. Choi. Seungwoo is such a bright boy. I’m really lucky to have him in my class."

There was a quiet pause between you two, and you felt something shift in the air, a subtle, unspoken connection that had been growing stronger with each day. He had to take a deep breath before speaking again.

"I was wondering… if you might be free sometime? Maybe we could grab a coffee? Just… as a thank you. You know, for all the kindness you’ve shown Seungwoo and for making me feel so welcome."

The words hung in the air between you. For a brief moment, Seungcheol cursed himself for being so straightforward, so vulnerable. But when he looked at you, he saw your smile soften, your eyes lighting up in a way that made his heart race.

"I’d love that," you said, your voice gentle. "I’m usually free on weekends if that works for you."

A surge of relief washed over him. "That sounds perfect. I’ll let you know when."

You exchanged numbers with a small, tentative smile, both of you feeling the weight of what this moment might mean. Seungcheol could feel his pulse quicken at the thought of spending more time with you, outside the classroom. He had known for a while now that there was something special about you, something that made him feel alive in ways you hadn't expected.

When you left the school that afternoon, your heart was full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. The thought of meeting him for coffee and talking about something other than Seungwoo and school made your chest tighten in excitement. You hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine this kind of connection in years, but now, with every smile from him, you felt yourself pulling closer.

As the days passed, you looked forward to your coffee date, knowing that this was just the beginning of something that felt as sweet and simple as the cookies you’d shared in that classroom, surrounded by pillows and laughter

The days that followed were filled with anticipation, and he found himself counting down the hours until Saturday. Though he had many things to do—business deals, phone calls, tasks at the office��nothing felt as important as the upcoming coffee date with you. The thought of seeing you outside of school, getting to know the person behind the kind, gentle teacher, made his heart flutter in ways he hadn’t felt in years.

Saturday finally arrived, and he made sure to arrive at the café a little early. The air was crisp, a hint of winter beginning to settle in. He stood outside, adjusting his jacket, checking his watch, running a hand through his hair. He tried hard to not look too eager, but the truth was, he had been looking forward to this moment all week.

When he saw you walking toward him, a soft smile on your face, his heart skipped a beat. You looked effortlessly beautiful, wearing a simple yet elegant dress paired with a cozy cardigan. The way you carried yourself, with grace and warmth, made you seem like you were in your element.

"Hi, Mr. Choi!" you greeted him, your voice light and friendly. "I hope I’m not late."

His nerves settled at the sound of your voice, and he couldn’t help but smile. "Not at all, Miss Y/N. I just got here a few minutes ago. I’m glad you could make it."

You walked into the café together, the scent of coffee and fresh pastries welcoming you inside. Seungcheol led you to a quiet corner, where the soft hum of conversation and the low music in the background made the space feel intimate and cozy. As he sat down, he couldn’t help but notice how at ease you seemed, how your presence brought an unexpected peace to your usually hectic world.

"I have to admit," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I wasn’t sure what to expect. I mean, we usually talk about Seungwoo, school, and all the little things in his life. But this—this feels different."

You smiled, your eyes sparkling with warmth. "I think it’s nice, don’t you? A change of pace. We get to talk about something other than lesson plans and school activities."

He chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. "Definitely. I’ve spent so much of my life focused on work and responsibilities, that I forget that there are moments like these that actually make life feel… complete. Like this. With you."

Your smile softened at your words, and you tucked a strand of hair behind you ear. "I understand what you mean. Teaching is a big part of my life, but there’s also more to it, more to me. Sometimes it’s nice to step away from the classroom and just be yourself for a moment."

Seungcheol nodded, his gaze lingering on you. He hadn’t realized until now just how much he longed for these quieter moments—the ones that weren’t filled with the buzz of the corporate world. He was used to being the one in charge, the one who always had to make decisions, led meetings, and set the pace. But with you, there was a kind of tranquility, a balance that he hadn’t known he needed.

As you talked, the conversation flowed easily. You shared stories about your childhoods, your favorite books, and even silly things like the kinds of music you liked. Your laughter was infectious, and he found himself opening up in a way he rarely did with anyone. There was a lightness to the way you spoke, a genuine interest in everything he had to say, and it made him feel like he was finally allowed to be more than just the CEO, more than just the father. For the first time in a long while, he felt… seen.

"I have to admit," you said, your smile turning playful, "I’ve always been curious about what it’s like to run a company. I mean, you’re so busy with meetings and traveling, right? How do you manage it all?"

Seungcheol leaned forward, intrigued by your question. "It’s not easy, but it’s all about balance. Finding time for the things that matter—work, yes, but also family. And now," he added, his eyes softening as they met yours, "I’m starting to think I need to make more time for things like this."

You blinked, your eyes wide as you took in his words. "Things like this?"

he hesitated for a moment before replying, his voice quieter now. "Things like… spending time with you. I know it’s unexpected, but I really enjoy these moments we’ve been sharing—getting to know you, and seeing the way you care for Seungwoo. It’s been… refreshing."

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his words, and you looked down for a moment, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "I didn’t expect that," you said, a bit shyly. "But I’m glad you feel that way. I think there’s something special about the time we’ve spent together too. You and Seungwoo have a warmth to you that’s hard to ignore."

Seungcheol smiled at your response, feeling a sudden surge of hope in his chest. This wasn’t just a fleeting moment, he realized. There was something genuine here—something that he wanted to explore further.

The coffee date continued into the evening, the conversation never running dry. You talked about everything and nothing, the kind of easy companionship that made time seem to stand still. By the time you finished your drinks, you both knew one thing for certain: you wanted more of this.

As he stood up to leave, he took a step closer to you. "I’m really glad we did this," he said, his voice sincere. "And, um… if you’re free again sometime, maybe we could do it again?"

You smiled warmly, your eyes lighting up at his words. "I’d love that."

His heart raced at the thought, but there was a calmness to it now, a certainty. He had known, even before he asked, that this was just the beginning of something. The connection between you two was undeniable, and he was more than ready to explore it.

"How about next weekend?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Next weekend sounds perfect," you replied with a smile that made his chest swell with warmth.

As you walked out of the café together, side by side, he felt like something had shifted, not just in the world around him, but within himself. Maybe it was because of the way you made him feel—like he was more than just a CEO, more than just a father. Maybe it was the quiet moments, like the ones you shared over coffee, that made him realize how much you had been missing.

And as you parted ways that night, a promise unspoken hung in the air– that this was only the beginning.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! › anonymous review form

honestly inspired by real life.. somehow, i'm just obsessed with one of the little one where i teach - he so adorable

@ credits┆big thanks to @tusswrites for beta & proof reading, one of my much needed grammar saviours ☆彡

❀ a/n┆ finally on vacations - happy holidays everyone

☘︎ taglist: @zozojella

‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip"🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

[iannmin]

Yuletide High | c.cs 최승철

tags + warnings ⋆ fluffy smut, bigger!husband!seungcheol x small!reader, implied size kink, breeding kink (extreme), creampie, dirty talk, manhandling, praise kink, intentional lowercase

synopsis ⋆ under the half done christmas tree, complications occur as cheol can’t quite seem to hold back his wishes <3

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆

you should have found it ridiculous or even funny at the situation both of you were in…no, really. if anyone had walked in on the both of you in the living room, it would be an absolutely disaster.

somewhere between hanging up the christmas ornaments on the fresh pine tree and exchanging wishes for the new year, everything went completely amiss.

you didn’t know that one phrase could have so much impact on your poor husband. but it did anyways. a simple “lets try for a baby” had cheol instantly folding, index and middle finger fumbling and tugging at the hem of your underwear and matching cotton plaid pants, hastily pulling them down your plush thighs even though you were practically kneeling doggy-styled in front of the half-done christmas tree. but for cheol, he seemed even more in a hurry.

not even bothering to remove the santa hat on his head, his plaid pants dropped and pooled near his knees, cock springing and hitting against his abdomen.

“oh my god cheol! n-not here, too exposed”

“fuck, but isn’t this the perfect place to get you all knocked up, hm? our baby will be made right under this lovely christmas tree. gonna be s’full of our love” and with that, his huge calloused fingers were digging into the flesh of your hips, slowly easing his cock into your heat. no matter how many times the both of you did it, your husband never failed to stretch your hole.

“f-fuckk! cheol, feels s’good, fuck me…please”

“yeah you like that baby? nggh..gonna be the best christmas gift I’ve ever had…oh god” every drag of cheol’s cock came away stained in white. a ring of the combined cum circling the base, balls sticking to your clit with every thrust. you were practically ascending into heaven.

his grip on your hips tightened, one arm snaking around the front of your small waist to find your clit, rubbing at it rapidly sideways. at this point, your thighs were shaking involuntarily, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks at the immense pleasure, and lips spewing a continuous lewd chant of his name.

his cock slammed and abused your sopping cunt continuously, producing a thunderous rhythm of skin-slapping sounds echoing in contrast to the peaceful and cozy christmas atmosphere that the living room emitted. but regardless, it was all a symphony of music to him.

your arms had given up, heated cheeks dropping to meet the cool marble floor while he pounded into you.

you were close.

“hnngh…n-no! c-cheol gonna..f-fuck…gonna cum!”

“oh god! s-shit, gonna cum too baby. gonna be such a pretty mommy for me? let me put one in you, hm? belly all round and swollen..tits full of milk…hnngh..can’t believe m’doin this to you, fuck-“

as promised, both of your high came crashing down as he pressed his cum right into you, right where he knows it’ll reach your womb and give you just what the both of you had wanted.

it’s absolutely hot and thick against your gummy walls. he held you through it, taking your hips in kneading hands to hold you still, making sure that you absolutely took it. and when you think he’s done, he rolled his hips up into you to shoot more ribbons, grinding harder against your ass. by the time you both were done, the santa hat had nearly slipped off his head, barely clinging on, but it didn’t matter much anyways.

“merry christmas baby, christmas next year will be a lot less lonely with one more in the house <3”

[thedensworld]

READ THE FULL VERSION NOW!

How to Summon Demon

Pairing: S.Coups x reader

Genre: Supernatural AU, humor, angst

Summary: your friends and you playfully played game to call the Hot Demon in high school. What if he actually summoned?

"Nothing's happened to Jinah, right?" Sonhee asked anxiously once they were done spelling. Jinah, sitting in the middle of the other three girls, sighed with relief. Despite her brave front in offering herself as the bride of the demon, deep inside, she was a bit scared.

"Why do we even play this game?" Hana scoffed, pushing herself onto the bed and lying down, looking at you, Sonhee, and Jinah with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

You shrugged and followed Hana, mumbling, "Just wanted to make Sonhee happy." Sonhee threw a playful protest, her face lighting up in mock offense.

"Hey, I just said it would be fun. Wasn't it fun?" Sonhee turned to everyone, seeking validation. Jinah nodded slightly, still feeling the remnants of her fear, while you and Hana exchanged glances before shrugging noncommittally.

"It's almost midnight; let's sleep. We have school tomorrow," you reminded them.

Sitting in the café years later, you watched with pride how your friends had grown. Sonhee, now with her little girl in a stroller, Jinah with a baby on the way, and Hana recently married to a Singaporean man she met on a business trip. Each of them had blossomed in their own way, their lives a testament to the passage of time and the enduring strength of your bond.

The four of you laughed, the tension dissipating as you reminisced about old times. Living together in the same dorm room 15 years ago had forged an unexpectedly intimate relationship among you all. You remembered the countless nights spent talking until dawn, the shared secrets, and the unspoken bond that had formed over time. The room had witnessed your collective fears and triumphs, your tears and laughter.

You felt a warm sense of pride and nostalgia as you observed how much the four of you had grown over the past 15 years. Meeting at 15, you were now on the brink of your 30s, each of you carving out your own path in life. The years had flown by, but the connection remained strong, a comforting constant amidst the changes.

"Can you believe it's been 15 years?" you mused aloud, smiling at the thought.

Sonhee laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Time flies when you're having fun, right?"

Jinah nodded, gently rubbing her baby bump. "And when you're with the right people."

Hana raised her glass of iced coffee, a twinkle in her eye. "To us, and to many more years of friendship."

As you all clinked glasses, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the journey you had shared, and excited for the many memories yet to be made.

As you all clinked glasses, your phone rang, breaking the moment. Glancing at the screen, you saw it was your manager calling. You answered quickly, noting the urgency in their voice.

Jinah grinned playfully. "Look at you, Mr. Rising Star. Who would've thought our quiet and calm 15-year-old would become a famous actor?"

Everyone chuckled, and you shrugged with a modest smile. "Yeah, who would've thought?"

Your manager's voice interrupted again, reminding you of your upcoming salon appointment. "Sorry, guys, I have to go. My manager is waiting for me," you said, standing up.

"Always busy," Hana teased, but her eyes were warm with understanding.

Sonhee added, "Thanks for making time for us, even with your hectic schedule."

You nodded, feeling a pang of regret for leaving so soon. "I'll see you all soon, I promise." With a wave of goodbye, you stepped out of the café, the cool breeze a contrast to the warmth you felt inside from the reunion.

As you approached the car, you saw your manager waiting impatiently. "Sorry for the wait," you said, sliding into the passenger seat.

"No problem. We have to keep moving if we want to stay on schedule," your manager replied, already pulling out into the street.

As the car sped through the bustling city streets, you felt a sudden, jarring jolt. The car veered wildly, and you heard the heart-stopping sound of screeching tires. The world seemed to move in slow motion as another vehicle collided with yours, the impact sending a shockwave through your body. The sound of shattering glass filled your ears, and the force of the crash threw you violently against the seatbelt. The world around you faded into an ominous silence as everything went black.

You got into a car accident.

*

In the darkness, you found yourself in a strange liminal space, caught between life and death. A surreal atmosphere enveloped you, a mix of chilling stillness and an ethereal glow. Memories of your friends, your career, and your life flashed before your eyes, mingling with an eerie quiet. Time felt distorted, stretching out endlessly, as if you were floating in a void.

Suddenly, you felt a pull, an irresistible force drawing you back to consciousness. You opened your eyes to find yourself in an unfamiliar, opulent room. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate designs, and ancient tapestries lined the walls, depicting scenes of otherworldly realms. The air was thick with an intoxicating scent, both alluring and unsettling.

Before you stood a man of striking appearance. His features were almost otherworldly—sharp, chiseled, and undeniably handsome. Yet, there was something intimidating about him, an aura of power that made your heart race with unease.

"Welcome," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "You've crossed a threshold few ever do."

You struggled to sit up, confusion and fear mingling in your mind. "Where am I? Who are you?" you managed to ask.

The man took a step closer, his intense gaze never leaving yours. "You are in a place between worlds," he replied enigmatically. "As for me, you may call me S.Coups."

You jolted awake, your last memory of the car accident with your manager flashing vividly before you. "Am I... dead? Are you Death?" you asked hesitantly, the urge of panic clear in your eyes as the man named S.Coups stared at you.

He smiled and walked over to a nearby sofa. You realized that you were lying on a bed in what appeared to be a luxurious bedroom. The sheer comfort and opulence of the room sent waves of confusion through you. If you were dead, how could you be in such a paradise-like place? Had you lived your life so righteously that you deserved a place like this? And who exactly was this S.Coups?

"I saved you," S.Coups said, breaking the silence.

You watched him breathlessly. "From the accident?" you asked, and he nodded.

You sighed in relief, thinking you weren't dead yet. But your relief was short-lived as he continued. "Yet," he added, as if he could read your thoughts. "Your body is likely in the hospital now, undergoing surgeries and treatments. What you are right now is your soul, caught in between."

His words echoed in your mind: a place between worlds. The gravity of the situation began to dawn on you.

"I'm a demon. I've been waiting for you for 15 years."

You watched his face intently, then suddenly burst into laughter. Your head turned around to find the hidden cameras as you said, "Is this a prank? Was the accident earlier part of the setup?" You smiled, still half-believing it was a joke.

"If it is, you better stop. It's not funny anymore, and I'm going to sue everyone involved," you continued, standing from the bed and walking toward him.

S.Coups smiled and laughed softly at your boldness. He stood in front of you, his tall figure towering over you as he approached closer. Your breath hitched, intimidated by his presence.

"I'm the demon you summoned 15 years ago, and I saved you from death because you're my wife," he stated calmly.

You laughed again, shaking your head. "Stop it. How do you guys know about the little game I played with my friends? Did they tell you?"

Suddenly, you felt your body plummet, as if falling from a great height. Your legs weakened, and your head spun. The room around you distorted, everything warping and blurring except for S.Coups and his intense gaze. Your body fell toward him, and he caught you, his hold steady and strong. In an instant, you were back in the bedroom, gasping for breath.

You pushed away from him, your heart pounding as the realization hit. This wasn't a prank. It wasn't a real bedroom. It was indeed a place between worlds.

"Do you believe it now?" S.Coups asked, his voice steady and unyielding.

You stared at him, the truth settling heavily in your mind. The memories of your friends, the innocent game, and the promise you had made all those years ago now seemed to carry a weight you hadn't understood at the time. The opulent room, his enigmatic presence, and the surreal experience all pointed to one undeniable fact: this was real.

"What do you want from me?"

*

Seungcheol, once trapped in an eternal detention, was finally released. The 700-year-long punishment had ended, but he couldn't return to his world. Instead, he found himself once again in the place between worlds, now known as the demon S.Coups.

S.Coups' role was to punish evil in the human world, a decree from God for Seungcheol's past transgressions when he was a human. "You will harvest what you planted," was the divine edict, and Seungcheol, now as S.Coups, had to enforce it.

He thought his penance was complete, but God had another plan. A future wife. When Seungcheol learned that his future wife would be a human soul, just like him, he felt a wave of relief. But days turned into years, and no one was given to him. The endless wait began to weigh heavily on his spirit.

Until one night, a group of teenage girls summoned him. Among them was the girl who offered herself as his bride, but another girl caught his eye.

Y/n.

His eyes widened in recognition. After a thousand years, he could finally see you again. "You can have her now," he heard the voice of God, instructing him to claim his bride.

"What will happen to her?" Seungcheol asked, his voice trembling.

"She will die. Her soul will be bonded to you," came the solemn reply.

Seungcheol's gaze shifted to the girl who had captivated him. "How about her?" he asked, pointing to you.

There was a pregnant pause before he heard another voice, filled with a knowing sadness. "So you still remember her?"

Seungcheol closed his eyes, the weight of centuries pressing down on him. "Is this part of the never-ending punishment? That you won't let us be together?"

As you stood there, grappling with the enormity of the situation, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of fear and curiosity. The life you had known felt distant and fragile, replaced by a reality that defied all logic and expectation.

"What do you want from me?" Seungcheol heard you ask, your voice tinged with a mix of desperation and anger. "Why me? Jinah was the one who sacrificed!" you shouted, and Seungcheol took a step back unconsciously, taken aback by your sudden rage.

He watched as you shook your head, your hands running through your hair in frustration. "What about my family? What are they going to do without me?"

Seungcheol closed his eyes, a flash of your family—your mother and siblings—discussing your inheritance while you still lay on the operating table, clenching his heart. Even after years, you were still a people's person, and yet you were still betrayed by those you loved.

Seungcheol took a deep breath and gently took your hand, touching you for the first time in a thousand years. He was glad you didn't fight his touch. "I chose you. That's why you're here," Seungcheol said softly.

Your eyes softened as tears welled up, ready to stream down your cheeks. He watched as you sighed and then sobbed, your emotions overwhelming you.

"Why did you choose me? Tell me the reason!" you demanded, your voice cracking with emotion.

There was a pregnant pause before Seungcheol looked you deeply in the eyes and asked, "Do you really want to know the answer?"

*

"Yes, this is part of your punishment. I planted her into your heart, but you decided to kill her in your past life. Fate has turned its back on you," the divine voice intoned.

Seungcheol cried out in regret, "Forgive me! It was an impulsive move driven by emotion. I love her, I really love her."

"That's your consequence," the voice replied sternly.

"What must I do to have her as my wife again? I'll do anything, I'll take any burden," Seungcheol pleaded desperately.

"Are you sure?" the voice asked, its tone grave.

Seungcheol nodded, desperation evident in his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure."

The voice continued, "She will die in 15 years in a car accident. You will have a chance to claim her soul at that moment. However, once you save her, her soul will awaken without any memory of you. She will hate you and treat you the opposite of how she used to. Your powers will fade. And lastly, you will be haunted by the memory of how you killed her until she finally comes to love you again."

As Seungcheol stood there, tears streaming down his face, the weight of the punishment and the path ahead seemed almost unbearable. But his love for you was unwavering, and he knew he would endure any hardship to be with you again.

Seungcheol jolted awake, his heart pounding. He stared at his palms and breathed a sigh of relief when he found no blood. The haunting had started, and he wasn't sure how long he could survive seeing himself kill you over and over again.

He covered his face, and sobs escaped his mouth. He couldn't control his emotions as his powers faded once he claimed your soul. This was the worst punishment ever given to him—loving you more and more but also being haunted by the memory of killing you repeatedly.

Seungcheol had been a crown prince, married to you, the daughter of one of his father's ministers. It wasn't an arranged marriage; in fact, he had liked you from the first time he saw you. However, as he became increasingly distracted by military duties, he grew distant from you.

Your father, the minister, was discovered to be one of the emperor's betrayers, plotting to murder the king and his family. The order to eliminate everyone in your father's family became serious, and even you, the prince's wife, were targeted.

"Seungcheol," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Please, tell me this isn't true. Tell me my father’s actions won't tear us apart."

Seungcheol's heart ached at the sight of you, his beloved wife, so vulnerable and frightened. But the bitter taste of betrayal gnawed at him. "I wish I could," he said, his voice cold. "But the betrayal runs deep, and the emperor has decreed that your father's entire family must be punished."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you gripped his hands tighter. "I had no knowledge of his plans. I swear to you, Seungcheol, I am innocent."

He pulled his hands away, stepping back. "How can I trust you? Your father plotted to kill the emperor and his family. How do I know you weren't part of it?"

You looked at him, shocked and hurt. "You really believe I would betray you? I am your wife, Seungcheol. I love you."

His eyes flashed with a mix of anger and sorrow. "Love? How can I be sure? Maybe you were waiting for the right moment to strike, just like your father."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "No, that's not true. I would never harm you."

Seungcheol clenched his fists, struggling with the turmoil inside him. "Your father betrayed the kingdom. The law is clear. Everyone in his family must be punished."

You stood up, desperation in your voice. "We can run, leave the palace, start a new life somewhere far away from all of this."

Seungcheol's face twisted with pain. "Running would only bring more misery. We would be hunted, and our lives would be filled with fear and uncertainty. I cannot bear to see you live like that."

Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, there was a silence filled with unspoken words. "Then what will you do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

His face contorted with sorrow as he reached out to touch your cheek. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But I cannot let them harm you. I would rather end your life myself than see you suffer at the hands of others."

You stepped back, shock and disbelief written on your face. "You would kill me? How could you say such a thing?"

Tears streamed down his face as he dropped to his knees. "Because I love you," he cried. "I cannot let you suffer. If there is any way to spare you pain, even if it means taking your life, I will do it. But please, know that I do this out of love, not malice."

You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. "How can love lead to this? How can you claim to love me and still be willing to take my life?"

Seungcheol sobbed, his heart breaking. "I don't know, but I cannot bear to see you in pain. Please, forgive me."

You fell to your knees beside him, your tears mingling with his as you held each other. "I love you, Seungcheol," you whispered. "But I cannot forgive this. I cannot understand how love can lead to such a cruel fate."

In that moment, Seungcheol knew that he had lost you, not just physically but emotionally. The bond that had once brought you together was now shattered by the weight of duty and betrayal. He held you close, the two of you wrapped in a final embrace as the night closed in around you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with sobs. "I'm so sorry."

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, he prepared to do the unthinkable, driven by a whirlwind of emotions—love, betrayal, and regret—praying that one day, in another life, he might find a way to make things right.

As he brought the dagger closer to your chest, your eyes met his, filled with a mixture of sorrow and resignation. "I wish I would never love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, the last breath escaping your lips.

Seungcheol's heart shattered at your words, the weight of your loss crashing down on him with unbearable force. He held you close as life slipped away from you, his soul forever marked by the tragic end of your love.

*

You woke up to a searing pain coursing through your body. Every muscle ached, every breath felt like fire in your lungs, and any attempt to move was met with an unforgiving resistance. Your throat was dry, and your voice failed you when you tried to speak. The only thing you could do was blink—slow, deliberate blinks that felt like your only connection to the world.

Where am I? you wondered, heart pounding with disoriented fear. The ceiling above you was a sterile white, and the faint hum of medical equipment filled the air with an eerie rhythm.

"Honey, you're awake!" Your mother’s familiar voice rang out, shaky with relief and overflowing with love. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she leaned over you, cupping your face gently with trembling hands. Her touch was warm—so achingly familiar it almost brought tears to your own eyes.

You blinked slowly, trying to signal that you were aware, that you heard her. Her smile grew wider, and her tears flowed freely, a soft, choked laugh escaping her lips. "You're back," she whispered, brushing your hair away from your face. Her voice cracked under the weight of her emotions, and her gaze was filled with a love so deep it made your chest ache in a different, more tender way.

Moments later, the door swung open with a soft thud, and a small crowd of nurses and a doctor hurried in. The steady beeping of machines quickened as the medical team surrounded you. Gloves snapped, charts were flipped, and lights flashed as they assessed you from head to toe. A nurse adjusted the IV in your arm, her touch clinical but careful. Another nurse gently lifted your head to check the support of your neck brace, moving with precise, practiced care.

"Her condition is stable now," the doctor announced, his voice calm but firm, like an anchor in a storm. His eyes scanned your vitals, and he made a few notes on his clipboard. "If her condition continues to improve, she’ll be on the road to recovery soon."

Recovery. The word echoed in your mind, heavy with meaning. Your heart swelled with hope but also with fear. What had happened to you? The accident... Flashes of shattered glass, screeching tires, and the weightless feeling of falling rushed back to you. Your breathing grew shallow, your body frozen in place as panic began to set in.

"It's okay, honey. You're safe now," your mother reassured you, noticing the shift in your expression. She leaned in closer, stroking your hair in soft, soothing motions. "You're safe. Just focus on resting, okay? You're so strong, my baby. So strong."

Her words washed over you like a lullaby. Though your body was battered and broken, though your voice had been taken from you, a small flicker of determination sparked in your chest. You had made it back. And if you could come back from that, you could do anything.

So it was all a dream? That thought echoed in your mind as fragments of your memory drifted to that strange, surreal place. A place that was neither here nor there, filled with an eerie stillness, and a man—no, a being—who had claimed to be your husband. Not just any husband, but a demon husband living in a realm caught between life and death.

It made sense now. You had survived a near-death experience. This was just your mind's way of coping, you reasoned. You’d even played roles like this before in your career—characters trapped in a dreamlike coma, their subconscious creating vivid, otherworldly illusions. It had to be something like that. A hallucination. A figment of a fractured mind.

"Mom, he insisted on coming in. He said he's her boyfriend," your sister’s voice cut through your thoughts like a blade of clarity.

Your heart gave a jolt. Her footsteps were light but purposeful as she entered the room, your brother following close behind. Then, another set of footsteps, heavier and more deliberate, echoed behind them. You couldn't see clearly from where you lay, but you caught glimpses of a tall figure. Pale skin. Sharp features. Pink lips pressed into a calm, almost knowing smile. His tailored outfit clung to him with the precision of someone who knew how to command attention.

Your mother’s soft gasp followed. You could practically hear her eyes scanning him from head to toe. "I didn’t know Y/N had such a handsome boyfriend," she muttered with a hint of playful disbelief. "Come in, kid."

Boyfriend? Your heart skipped a beat, confusion quickly morphing into suspicion.

The man stepped forward, his presence filling the room like a shadow stretching at dusk. You felt him before you saw him, his gaze sharp and deliberate, like he knew exactly where you were. The weight of his presence was familiar—too familiar.

No. It couldn’t be.

The world around you blurred for a moment as you focused on him, your heart pounding like a distant drum. Slowly, your eyes adjusted, and there he was.

S.Coups.

Your breath hitched, your eyes widening in disbelief. It was him. The same man—the same demon—who had introduced himself as your husband in that strange place. The same one who had called you "wife" with a smirk that both unnerved and intrigued you.

But how? How was he here? Wasn’t he just a figment of your coma-induced dream?

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours, his movements as smooth as silk. His gaze was steady, filled with an unspoken familiarity that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"Baby," he murmured, his voice deep and honeyed, like the low hum of thunder before a storm.

Before you could even think to react, he reached out and touched your head.

A sudden warmth spread through you, sinking deep into your bones. The sharp, constant ache in your body dulled instantly, like his touch had drained the pain away. You blinked, your eyes wide with shock. How—?

"You remember?" His eyes softened, his smile tilting ever so slightly, as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Your breath came out in shallow, uneven bursts, panic surging through you. Your mind screamed at you that this wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be real. And yet, there he stood, his face mere inches from yours, eyes crinkled with quiet affection, as if you'd been reunited after a long journey apart.

He leaned in, his lips so close to your ear you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"Hello again... wife."

His words hung in the air like a spell, impossible to break, impossible to deny. Your heart thudded violently against your ribs, your mind caught between disbelief and something far more dangerous—recognition.

*

You sat on the hospital bed, propped up by pillows, your gaze fixed on the television screen. The news anchor's voice echoed softly in the background, but your attention was glued to the flashing headline in bold letters:

"Life-or-Death Accident of Rising Actress, Ji Y/N."

The footage cut to chaotic scenes of the accident site — twisted metal, shattered glass, and flashing sirens painting a grim picture. Reporters swarmed like vultures, their cameras capturing every angle. Clips of journalists stationed outside the hospital played next, eager to catch any update on your condition.

Your fingers twitched, clenching lightly at the sheets on your lap. It was surreal watching yourself become a headline, your life reduced to a media frenzy.

"Eat your food," a familiar voice cut through your thoughts.

You blinked and turned your head, meeting the steady gaze of S.Coups. He stood by the side of your bed, casually placing a tray of food on the table before you. He’d been by your side for the past three days, an unwavering, uninvited presence that somehow no one questioned. Your family had been hesitant at first, but S.Coups had insisted on taking care of you himself. Somehow, his calm authority left no room for argument.

You watched him now as he adjusted the tray, his movements fluid but precise, like someone used to being in control. His sharp features were framed by soft strands of dark hair, and despite the sterile hospital lighting, he looked impossibly flawless.

“Eat,” he said again, his tone gentle but firm. “You need to get your strength back.”

You glanced down at the meal he’d prepared. It looked simple but warm, the kind of home-cooked meal that made you nostalgic for days long gone. Slowly, you reached for the spoon, your muscles moving with less strain than before.

The doctors had been baffled. Just days ago, they said you’d need weeks, maybe months, to recover from fractured ribs and broken bones. Yet, each day since you woke up, the pain had lessened significantly. Too quickly. It didn’t make sense.

The doctors called it a "miraculous recovery." But you knew better.

Your eyes shifted back to S.Coups. The man — no, the demon — who had stayed by your side like a guardian shadow. Whenever the pain had been too much to bear, he would press his palm against your forehead. Warmth would flood your body, and every ache, every sharp pang, would simply… vanish. Like it had been lifted straight out of you.

At first, you thought it was coincidence. Then, you thought it was a dream. But now, you knew better.

You stared at him as he leaned back, arms crossed, his eyes half-lidded with a calm patience that made him look almost human. Almost.

"How do you do that?" you asked, your voice raspy from disuse but strong enough to be heard. It was the first time you’d spoken properly since you woke up.

His gaze shifted to you, sharp but unbothered, like he'd been waiting for the question. Slowly, a small, knowing smile curled on his lips.

“Demon power,” he said simply, like it was the most natural answer in the world.

Your breath caught in your chest. So, he is a demon.

The spoon in your hand hovered mid-air, forgotten as you stared at him. Everything suddenly felt too real. The impossible healing. The way no one questioned his presence. The strange familiarity in his eyes, like he’d known you far longer than these past three days.

Your heart thudded in your chest, not from fear, but from the unsettling realization that maybe, just maybe, your "dream" wasn’t a dream at all.

And maybe, just maybe, you were still caught somewhere between life and death.

“Why are you here?” you asked, voice steadier this time.

His eyes didn’t waver. If anything, his smile widened just a fraction, his gaze holding a weight you couldn’t name.

“To make sure you don’t forget,” he said softly, leaning in close. His voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder before a storm. “You still owe me, wife.”

The chill that ran down your spine had nothing to do with the hospital air conditioning.

"You and your friends summoned me," he added, his tone casual as he moved to sit on the chair beside you, legs crossed like he had all the time in the world. His sharp eyes stayed on you, unblinking. "So, here I am."

His words hit like a sharp jolt to your mind. You shook your head slowly, disbelief tugging at your features. “That’s ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, voice laced with doubt.

“Ridiculous?” He raised a brow, his eyes crinkling with amusement. He tilted his head slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against his cheek. “The fact that you survived that accident alone is ridiculous.”

His words hung in the air like smoke, dense and suffocating.

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, his smile too sharp to be kind. “I asked God to do this. He fulfilled it,” he said with a quiet kind of pride, like he was sharing a secret no mortal should ever hear. His eyes glinted with something between arrogance and mischief. “Deep down, I know I’m still His favorite.”

His words were so absurd, so unreal, that all you could do was stare. Your gaze stayed on him, watching the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of someone entirely too comfortable in a situation he shouldn’t belong in. Slowly, you shifted your eyes back to the food.

You raised the spoon again, shoveling a small bite into your mouth. The bland taste of hospital food was grounding, a bitter reminder of reality. You chewed slowly, each movement of your jaw deliberate as you processed his words. Ridiculous, you thought, swallowing the lump in your throat along with the food. His presence, his words, everything about this situation was ridiculous.

But he wasn’t wrong.

The fact that you survived that accident without a single permanent injury, without so much as a scar, was a miracle that even the doctors couldn’t explain. There was no logic to it. No sense.

You glanced at him again. He was watching you, his gaze heavy with something you couldn't name. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but somehow, you felt like he was seeing right through you.

You remembered it now. His voice, the warmth of his touch on your forehead. The words he’d spoken when the pain had been at its peak.

“I saved you.”

Your fingers tightened around the spoon.

What have I done?

*

Humans were such curious creatures. Noisy, excitable, and always so desperate to capture fleeting moments as if they could freeze time with a camera. Seungcheol had seen it happen countless times over the centuries, but today it was different.

Today, they were capturing her.

He pushed your wheelchair slowly, his eyes scanning the crowd of humans that swarmed around you. Cameras flashed like sparks of lightning, their voices colliding in a mess of questions, calls, and murmurs. Some of them called your name, others whispered about him, the "mysterious man" accompanying you.

He glanced down at you. Your head was tilted forward, face shielded behind a mask, large sunglasses, and a hat pulled low over your head. You were tense, your hands gripping the armrests like they were your only anchor. Embarrassment, he recognized. You were embarrassed. All because you weren’t wearing makeup.

He didn’t understand it. With or without that powder on your face, you were still beautiful. His wife had always been beautiful, no matter the life, no matter the face. Humans and their insecurities… He scoffed softly but didn’t comment on it. You wouldn’t hear him anyway.

“Where to, Mr. Choi?” the driver asked as he pulled open the back door of the car.

“Mr. Choi?” your voice was sharp, cutting through the hum of noise like a thread of clarity. You tilted your head just enough to glance at him. He met your gaze through the dark lenses of your sunglasses.

He supposed it was only natural for you to be curious.

“Choi Seungcheol,” he answered smoothly, pushing the wheelchair closer to the car. “That’s my real name.” He nodded toward the driver, who was adjusting his gloves. “And that’s Chan. My phoenix.”

You turned your head to the driver, eyes narrowing behind your glasses. You tilted your head slightly, as if analyzing him. Ah, she’s doubting it, Seungcheol thought, amused.

“He’s human,” you stated firmly, like it was a fact no one could dispute.

Seungcheol’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. Of course you’d think that. Humans always relied on their eyes first. They never bothered to look beyond.

“He’s a phoenix,” Seungcheol replied, his voice carrying a note of pride. “He’s just in human form right now.”

You blinked once. Twice. Then, your brows furrowed deeply, and you leaned back in the wheelchair like you needed space to process his words. Good. She should process it slowly. Seungcheol had learned long ago that humans resisted the truth until it smacked them right in the face. They all do.

“You raised him?” you asked slowly, as if testing the words on your tongue.

He glanced toward Chan, who stood quietly by the car, eyes forward, disciplined as ever. A good phoenix, he thought. He still remembered the day he found the ember, barely flickering, weak and desperate to burn. Seungcheol had breathed life into it, raised it, trained it, and now here it was — his phoenix, his loyal servant.

“I raised him from an ember,” he said, turning his gaze back to you. She won’t believe it. Watch. “He’s been with me ever since.”

Your face twisted, lips pulling into a small grimace. It was the same face you made whenever you were trying to make sense of something ridiculous. You’d made that face before — in lifetimes past. He remembered it well.

"Right," you muttered, eyes flickering between him and Chan. She’s still holding on to her logic. He could practically hear your mind ticking, trying to find a way to rationalize it. Humans always did.

"Do you have a house here?" you asked, your voice quieter, calmer. A shift in topic. Smart girl.

He nodded. "You remember it, don't you?"

He watched you shift in your seat, lips pressing into a thin line. It was like you didn’t want to admit it, but he knew you had seen it — his house of the other worl. Grand, old, and nestled on the edge of the woods where the mist never fully cleared. You'd walked through those halls once, your voice echoing softly as you called for him.

“In this world, I move from time to time,” Seungcheol continued, his tone nonchalant as he helped you into the car. His hands were firm but gentle on your waist as he guided you into the seat. “I change identities too. Right now, I’m Park Ian.”

"Park Ian," you repeated, glancing at him once you were settled. Your lips twitched in mild disbelief. "You have a lot of names."

He chuckled under his breath. She’s catching on. Sliding into the seat beside you, he glanced at her, eyes crinkling with amusement.

“I’ve lived in this world for over 700 years,” he said, his voice laced with something older, something heavier. “It’s not wise to keep the same name for that long.”

You didn’t say anything at first, but he saw the way your gaze faltered. Good. Let it sink in. His words weren’t just words; they were a reminder. A reminder that he had seen centuries pass. While emperors rose and fell, while entire dynasties crumbled to dust, he remained.

He leaned his head back against the seat, eyes still on you. He could see it now — the way your thoughts were running circles in your head, trying to make sense of it. Humans always sought a sense of "normal." It was in their nature. But normal didn’t exist. It never had.

“You shouldn’t freak out temporary creatures with your real identity,” he added with a shrug, his gaze shifting to the window.

Silence filled the car, and for a moment, it was peaceful. He liked the stillness of it. No flashing lights. No noise. Just the soft hum of the engine and the faint sound of your breathing. Temporary creatures, he thought again.

You stayed quiet for a while, but he didn’t mind. He could feel the shift in your presence — the quiet tension of realization setting in. You’d heard his words, understood them, but you were still trying to reject them. It was only natural. Humans didn’t want to be reminded of how little time they had.

But Seungcheol had never seen you as "temporary." Not in this life. Not in any of your past lives.

Every version of you had found him, one way or another. And this version — the one sitting next to him, stubborn and sharp as ever — was no different.

Humans liked to believe in fate. But fate wasn’t some grand, invisible thread. Fate was just a series of choices leading to an inevitable end.

Seungcheol turned his head to watch you, his gaze soft but unwavering. This is the one I’ve been waiting for.

“Rest,” he said quietly. “We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

You glanced at him, hesitating for a moment, but you leaned back in your seat, letting your eyes close behind the tinted lenses of your sunglasses.

He watched you for a moment longer before turning his gaze back to the road ahead. The weight of time didn’t feel as heavy today. Not when you were here, next to him.

Temporary, huh? His fingers drummed lightly against his knee. No, not this one.

*

Seungcheol had always been fascinated by how human architecture evolved with each passing century. Gone were the ornate, intricate designs of old. Now, humans favored simplicity — clean lines, wide-open spaces, and muted tones. Minimalist, modern, efficient. He’d seen it all before, but this time, he decided to adapt.

That’s how he ended up with this house. Modern. Sleek. Sharp edges softened by natural light. It was the kind of house humans admired in magazines but rarely lived in. For Seungcheol, it was just another shell, another temporary shelter in a world he didn’t truly belong to.

He rarely stayed here, anyway. His "work" demanded it. Decades of building and maintaining a "family business" — that’s what he called it whenever humans asked. But the truth was far less ordinary. He’d been running it alone for centuries. No heirs, no partners. Just him. It was a clever front for something far older and far more important.

And when the human world grew too loud, too tedious, he returned to his other world — the one between life and death. There, he answered to only one higher power. God. As a demon, he completed every task given to him, no questions asked. No rest, no reprieve. Seven hundred years of orders, assignments, and quiet obedience.

But you were here now, and that made it different.

“Do you like the house?” he asked as he pushed your wheelchair through the wide front door. The smooth, polished floor gleamed beneath the soft, ambient lighting. Everything smelled new, untouched, like the world hadn’t yet left its mark on it.

You glanced around, brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line of disapproval. “I have my own house,” you muttered, eyes narrowing as you took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Seungcheol let out a low breath, barely a sigh, but enough to hint at his growing patience. Humans were always slow to accept things they couldn’t control.

“Not anymore,” he replied firmly. He moved to stand in front of you, then crouched down until his eyes were level with yours. His gaze was steady, unwavering, the kind that made it hard to look away. “Your family plans to send you to their house. Not because they want to take care of you.”

His words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate.

Your eyes narrowed even more, suspicion creeping into your expression. “What do you mean by that?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle with one missing piece. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his face now only inches from yours.

“They think you’re going to die,” he said bluntly. No sugarcoating. No soft words. He knew you’d hate that, but he also knew you’d rather hear the truth. “So they sold your house. Even met with a lawyer to discuss your inheritance.”

Your face twisted in disbelief, lips parting as if to protest. But you didn’t speak. Not right away.

“No,” you said, shaking your head slowly, like you were trying to convince yourself. “They wouldn’t—”

“They would,” Seungcheol cut in, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Humans are predictable. They prepare for loss the moment it feels inevitable.” His voice wasn’t cruel, just matter-of-fact, as if he were explaining the weather. “You were unconscious for weeks. They thought that was it. People do selfish things when they think they’ve already lost someone.”

You stared at him, lips pressed tightly together, eyes darting away like you didn’t want to hear any more. But he knew you were listening. Humans always listened when it came to betrayal.

“They’re not bad people,” Seungcheol added, his tone softer this time. “Just scared. And fear makes people act without thinking.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment, eyes locked on the polished floor beneath you. Seungcheol didn’t rush you. He’d seen humans go through every stage of grief — denial, anger, sadness, acceptance. He could tell you were stuck somewhere between the first two. He was there too when he lost you.

Finally, you let out a short, bitter laugh, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “They sold my house while I was still breathing,” you muttered, shaking your head like it was all some sort of cruel joke.

Seungcheol didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

He stood, gaze still fixed on you. His hands slid into the pockets of his coat as he glanced around the house, the house he’d chosen for you. Modern. Simple. Quiet. A space where no one could touch you, not even the people you thought you could trust.

“Forget them for now,” he said, his voice cutting through your thoughts like the snap of a thread. “This house is yours for as long as you want it.”

You lifted your eyes to him, doubt still lingering in the lines of your face. “And what if I don’t want it?”

His lips curved into a small, dangerous smile. “Then I’ll keep it for you until you do.”

He watched the way your brows twitched, how you clenched your jaw like you didn’t want to argue anymore. Smart girl. You knew when a battle wasn’t worth fighting.

"You're mine, after all," he added under his breath, the words barely a whisper but sharp enough to linger.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, sharp and unyielding. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Seungcheol.”

He grinned wider, his teeth flashing like a predator who’d already won. Ah, there she is. He’d missed that fire in you. Humans didn’t realize how much of themselves stayed the same, life after life. But he’d seen it. He’d seen you — fierce, stubborn, and unwilling to bend to anyone, not even him.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice slow and smooth like honey drizzling from a spoon. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Seven hundred years. Thousands of lifetimes. And here you were, once again, right in front of him.

Time, after all, had never been a problem for him.

*

You had been living in Seungcheol's house for two months now, still on the slow path to recovery. The entertainment industry had labeled it a "hiatus," but it felt more like exile. Each day blended into the next with therapy sessions, quiet meals, and far too much time alone.

The last time you’d seen your manager was a month ago, a week after you were discharged from the hospital. She arrived unannounced, her presence loud and familiar in the otherwise quiet house. The moment she spotted Chan assisting you from the kitchen to the couch, her eyes had narrowed with suspicion.

“He’s helping me since I can’t move around on my own,” you’d explained casually, trying to deflect the sudden scrutiny.

“Then who is he?” she’d asked, her tone sharper this time.

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes narrowed further, like she was piecing together a mystery. Then she leaned in, eyes locked on yours. “The man pushing your wheelchair out of the hospital. Who is he?”

Your chest tightened. Seungcheol.

“I didn’t know you were in a relationship,” she continued, eyes darting between you and Chan like she was searching for signs of a hidden romance. “The CEO was ready to throw hands when he saw the media frenzy, but…” She shrugged, letting out a breathy laugh. “The reaction was positive, surprisingly. Everyone’s happy to see someone taking care of you after the accident.”

You stayed quiet, fingers curling into the blanket draped over your lap.

She was in that accident too. You'd forgotten. Her arm had been in a cast that day, her hand fractured and bruised. She showed you footage from the crash — grainy, black-and-white CCTV video from a nearby traffic camera. It played on her phone screen as you watched in silence.

The truck came out of nowhere, barreling through the red light. It struck your car right in the center — the exact spot where you’d been sitting. Metal crumpled like paper. Glass shattered into a blizzard of shards. Your heart lurched watching it, even though you’d lived it.

“The accident’s still under investigation,” she muttered, tapping the screen to replay it. Her eyes didn’t leave the footage. “The truck driver vanished. No trace of him anywhere.

Her words lingered in your mind long after she left.

That night, as you lay in bed, the realization settled in. You should have died that day.

The media, of course, had latched onto the man by your side. Photos and clips of Seungcheol pushing your wheelchair circulated like wildfire. He was too striking to be ignored. His sharp features, his composed demeanor, and the air of quiet authority he carried made it impossible for people to look away.

“I can’t believe you’re dating some insanely wealthy man behind my back!” your manager had teased, her grin wide, eyes sparkling with mischief. She clearly thought she was joking, but her words weighed heavier than she realized.

If only she knew. If only you knew.

You’d tried to escape him once — just once. Back at the hospital, during a physiotherapy session, you’d convinced yourself you could sneak away. With your wheelchair, you’d rolled slowly toward the exit, heart pounding in sync with each push of the wheels. Just a little further. Just a little more.

Then, suddenly, he was there.

Standing at the end of the hall, hands in his coat pockets, eyes locked on you like he’d been waiting the whole time.

“Going somewhere?” Seungcheol had asked, his voice calm but sharp. You froze. His eyes weren’t angry, but there was something in them that made you feel like a child caught sneaking out past curfew.

Your heart sank as he approached, slow, deliberate steps echoing down the hall. Without a word, he crouched behind your wheelchair and began pushing you back to the therapy room. No chance. No escape.

Now, he was gone.

“Mr. Choi has business with God,” Chan had explained casually one morning over breakfast, like it was normal. You’d stopped mid-bite, staring at him in disbelief.

“Business with God?” you repeated, the words foreign and bizarre on your tongue.

Chan only nodded, scooping rice into a bowl like it wasn’t the most absurd statement you’d ever heard. “He’ll be back in a few days.”

In the absence of Seungcheol, you’d spent more time with Chan. At first, you didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed normal enough — polite, helpful, always willing to assist. Until the night you saw it.

It had been a small argument, nothing serious. You’d gotten frustrated, snapped at him for not hearing you properly. He’d turned to face you, and for just a moment — a flash, like a flickering candle in a dark room — his eyes blurred with fire. Not anger, not metaphorical fire. Actual flames. His irises burned with molten gold and red, flickering like embers.

You froze, heart stuttering in your chest.

His eyes returned to normal as quickly as they’d changed.

Later, Seungcheol had scolded you. “He could burn this house to the ground if you make him angry again,” he’d said, voice stern like a parent warning a child not to play with fire. You hadn’t argued.

“Do you know why I’m his wife?” you asked Chan, your voice calm as you watched him prepare dinner. The question had been nagging at you for weeks.

He glanced up from the stove, eyes flicking to you like he was gauging how much to say. After a moment, he set the spatula down and walked over to the table, sitting across from you.

“Mr. Choi was a human,” he said, his tone steady but serious. “And you were his wife in the past.”

Your fork hovered in mid-air. “…He was human?”

Chan nodded, eyes never leaving yours.

The revelation sent a sharp chill down your spine. Seungcheol had never mentioned it. Not once. All you knew was that he was a demon, powerful beyond reason, and that he had abilities that humans could only call magic. You had never thought to ask where he’d come from or what he’d been before.

“How do you know that?” you asked, still trying to piece it all together.

Chan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he tilted his head, gaze thoughtful. “I was a gift,” he said slowly, like he was unraveling a memory he hadn’t touched in centuries. “A present from God to Mr. Choi. He told me about you back then.”

Your brows furrowed. “A present? Why would God give him a phoenix as a present?”

Chan shrugged, his expression distant, as if his mind had traveled far away. “Because he was sad,” he said quietly.

You frowned. “Why was he sad?”

He tilted his head the other way, eyes distant but warm with memory. “I don’t really remember,” he admitted, tapping a finger on the table. “But he’s always sad.”

Always sad.

Those words echoed in your mind long after dinner was over. It felt like the kind of truth no one says out loud, the kind that lives quietly in the shadows. Seungcheol was human. You were his wife. He’s always been sad.

Later that night, you sat by the window, staring at the moon. You wondered if he was looking at the same sky from wherever he was.

How long have you been sad, Seungcheol? you thought to yourself. And how long have you been searching for me?

The answers, you realized, would come in time. Seungcheol was nothing if not patient. Seven hundred years patient.

"Waiting for me?"

You jolted in your wheelchair, heart nearly leaping out of your chest. Seungcheol stood behind you, his presence as sudden and quiet as a shadow. You clutched at your chest, fingers pressing firmly against your ribs like you were trying to keep your heart from breaking free.

“Can you not do that?” you hissed, still catching your breath. “I could die of a heart attack.”

He chuckled, low and warm like distant thunder. “I’ll just save you from death again,” he replied, his grin sharp but not unkind.

He moved gracefully to the couch in front of you, sinking into it like a king on his throne. His eyes, dark and deep, fixed on you with quiet curiosity. “You seemed lost in thought,” he noted, tilting his head ever so slightly.

You sighed, glancing away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. It was still strange, looking at him. He had all the features of a man — pale skin, sharp jawline, and a face that looked like it had been carved with careful precision. If you’d passed him on the street, you’d think he was just another good-looking human. But now you knew better.

No one had ever taught you that demons could have soft brown eyes and smiles that made you forget to breathe.

Your voice came quieter this time, more careful, like you were testing your own courage. “You said you chose me.” You watched his face closely. “When we summoned you 15 years ago, instead of Jinah, you chose me. Was it because I was your wife… even before?”

His eyes lowered for a moment. Silence hung in the air like a held breath. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. “But you don’t remember.”

You swallowed, something tight forming in your throat. “Then why did you need a bride at all?” you pressed, brows knitting together. “Why a wife? You’re a demon. What would a demon need with a wife?”

His gaze lifted back to you, unreadable but steady. “It’s part of God’s plan,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “He always has a plan — for everyone, for everything.”

You watched him closely, eyes searching his face for something more. His voice was calm, his words sure, but his eyes.

Chan’s words echoed in your mind. “He’s always sad.”

You saw it now. It wasn’t loud or obvious. It wasn’t in the way he spoke or moved. It was in the small things — the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his shoulders always seemed to carry a weight no one else could see.

Your hand lifted on its own, slow and unthinking, like a force greater than you was guiding it. Your fingertips brushed his cheek, warm and solid beneath your touch. It was natural, effortless, like muscle memory from a life you no longer remembered.

“Is it part of His plan too?” you asked softly, your thumb grazing along his cheekbone. “To make you wait for 700 years?”

Seungcheol’s eyes flickered with something unspoken — a brief, vulnerable crack in his armor. But he didn’t answer.

Instead, he reached up, taking your hand in his. His palm was firm, steady, and for a moment, it felt like you were the one being held together.

He didn’t look at you as he stood, his hand slipping away from yours too soon. His back faced you as he started toward the hallway, his footsteps silent but certain.

“I’ll send Chan to get you to bed,” he said, his voice distant now, as if he’d already gone somewhere far away. “Rest well.”

And just like that, he was gone.

You sat there, staring at the space where he’d stood. His warmth lingered on your fingertips, his words circling your mind like a song stuck on repeat.

God’s plan. A wife. 700 years.

You wondered which part of the plan was meant for him — and which part was meant for you.

*

Seungcheol didn’t have a nightmare last night. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the haunting dreams that plagued him since the day he chose you as his bride did not come. Instead, he woke up feeling unusually refreshed — as if he were human, ready to take on the day with renewed energy.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow exhale before stepping out of his room. The house was quiet, but the faint sound of shuffling reached his ears. Following it, he found Chan standing in front of you, his arm raised, supporting your weight as you trained yourself to walk again.

Chan had mentioned it before — that you’d been making progress, slowly but surely. But seeing it for himself stirred something in Seungcheol. Determination flickered in your eyes as you gritted your teeth, wobbling slightly with each step.

He moved toward you, his eyes locked on you with quiet focus. He didn’t say a word as he reached out, placing his hands firmly on your arms. A burst of energy surged from him to you — a gift of strength that only he could give.

His shoulders felt heavier instantly, the weight of his own body doubling as exhaustion seeped into his bones. It was a familiar strain, but he didn’t mind. He’d done it a thousand times before. You needed it more than he did.

"Isn't it taking you too long to start walking again?" Seungcheol teased lightly, his voice warm but sharp enough to stir you into action. "You must be tired of that wheelchair by now."

He lowered Chan’s arms, freeing you from the support, and moved slightly back, giving you space. His gaze was firm, unwavering, like he was daring you to prove him wrong.

"No, no, no!" you cried out, eyes wide with panic as you reached out for Chan. "Don't let go—"

But Seungcheol was faster. He pulled Chan away with ease, his smirk as sharp as ever. "You’re fine. Walk."

Your heart raced as you braced yourself, every muscle in your legs trembling. But then, something unexpected happened. You took a step. It wasn’t as hard as before. Your body moved with surprising ease, like something inside you had shifted.

"See?" Seungcheol’s voice was a quiet triumph. He stepped beside you, offering his arm. Without hesitation, you leaned on him, letting him guide you as you slowly took another step, and another.

“Wow…” you breathed, eyes darting around as you moved further than you had in weeks. “Demon power, huh?” you teased, glancing up at him.

He smirked down at you, his gaze glinting with pride. “Told you it works.”

"I’ll prepare food," Chan called out, excusing himself to the kitchen with a grin, clearly satisfied with your progress.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing at Seungcheol with an expression that was part awe, part disbelief. "You know," you said between slow, steady steps, "if I’d known having a demon around would be this useful, I would’ve summoned one sooner."

Seungcheol chuckled, his voice deep and smooth like rolling thunder. "If only you knew what it cost me to be here."

Your smile faltered just a little, eyes darting to his face. His words carried more weight than you expected. But before you could ask, he guided you forward, his arm steady at your side.

“Focus,” he said softly. “One step at a time, wife.”

And just like that, your heart did that annoying little flip it had been doing more and more often lately.

"Shall we go to the garden?" Seungcheol's voice was low but firm, and you nodded, letting him guide you along the stone pathway of his serene, well-kept garden. The cool breeze carried the soft rustle of leaves, and the distant chirping of birds filled the quiet.

Your steps were slow but steady, each one a small victory. Seungcheol stayed by your side, his presence a steady anchor.

"How's your sleep?" he asked, glancing at you.

"I had a dream," you replied, gaze lost in thought.

"What kind of dream?"

You shook your head, trying to piece it together. "It felt like the Joseon era. I was wearing a hanbok—like, a princess’s hanbok. It was really elegant. I looked pretty, though." You smiled, lifting your chin with playful pride.

Seungcheol let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You were."

You turned to him, eyes widening in surprise. "Really?" There was a faint blush dusting your cheeks, and Seungcheol noticed it right away. He always noticed.

"I don't say it enough, but you were beautiful," he admitted, his gaze unwavering.

Your lips parted slightly, stunned by his sincerity. For a moment, you forgot how to walk. "You’re making me curious about my past lives," you said softly, your voice tinged with wonder. "What kind of person was I?"

He glanced at you, his eyes growing distant, like he was seeing something far away — something only he could see. His heart ached at the memories. You were always the same. Kind, beautiful, and selfless to a fault. You let yourself be pulled into an arranged marriage for the sake of your family. Your family betrayed you. Your husband betrayed you.

And worst of all, he betrayed you.

He killed you.

Seungcheol's chest felt tight. He took a deep breath, shaking his head free of the painful memories. He couldn't let you see that part of him. Not yet.

"You were a noisy wife," he finally said, his lips curling into a teasing grin.

You froze, eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "What?" Your hand shot out to slap his arm, but he dodged it with ease, laughing under his breath. You swung again, but this time, he caught your wrist and tugged you toward him.

"Hey—!" you yelped, stumbling forward.

He pulled you into his embrace, wrapping his arms firmly around you. It wasn’t a tight hold, just enough to keep you close. For a second, you stiffened, but the warmth of his body against yours made you relax. Slowly, you let your head rest against his chest.

Warmth.

For the first time in a long, long while, Seungcheol felt warmth. It seeped into his bones, into the cracks of his soul that he’d long thought would never heal.

The quiet hum of life around you both melted into the background. The past felt distant, and for a brief moment, it didn’t matter. But the past always had a way of creeping back in.

God had offered him a wife to end his task as a demon and earn a peaceful life in Heaven. But that wife — the one chosen for him — never arrived. Time after time, life after life, Seungcheol watched you. You were never meant to be his. You were meant for the world, not for him.

But God let him see you. Again and again. In every lifetime, you crossed his path. Sometimes as a stranger. Sometimes as a friend. Sometimes as someone out of reach. Each time, he pleaded. Each time, he begged.

"Please, just this once."

"Please, let it be her."

But God was silent.

“Heaven is only for those who work for it,” God had said during one of their rare conversations. “Work hard until you no longer desire it.”

For centuries, Seungcheol followed orders, accepting every task God gave him as a demon. For centuries, he hardened his heart, accepting that you were not his to have. He was ready to give it all up, ready to accept his fate as a demon forever.

Until the day you and your friends summoned him.

He still remembered the look on your face — wide-eyed, stunned, and just as beautiful as the day you were taken from him. You didn’t recognize him, of course. You were never supposed to. But something in you felt him.

That day, Seungcheol realized something.

God had answered him.

His bond with you had been restored, not by force, but by choice. God had let him have you again. It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t fate. It was a gift.

And Seungcheol had never been so grateful.

“Heaven is waiting for you and your cherished one,” God had told him once, long ago.

But Seungcheol didn’t care about Heaven anymore. He had already found it.

He pressed his chin lightly against the top of your head, his eyes shut as he let himself enjoy the warmth of you in his arms.

He wouldn’t lose you again.

No matter what.

*

You jolted awake, your breath coming in shallow gasps. The remnants of the nightmare clung to your mind like a heavy fog. You were back in the Joseon era, dressed in a hanbok that made you feel regal, yet trapped. You were in a room that resembled a royal bedroom, adorned with intricate tapestries and golden accents.

Then, the man appeared. He was so familiar, yet his face remained a blur, like a memory just out of reach. He approached you, pulling you into an embrace, and for a brief moment, you felt warmth and safety. But that feeling quickly turned to terror as pain shot through your stomach.

Your breath hitched, and the warmth flooding from your core felt too real. You could feel the blood pooling, the sharpness of the blade searing through your body. The pain was suffocating, overwhelming. The man's arms tightened around you, but his presence felt wrong. His face—familiar yet unrecognizable—hovered just beyond your reach. And then, you saw it—his eyes, full of regret, full of sorrow—but it didn’t stop the blade from twisting deeper.

"Y/n!" The man’s voice echoed in your ears, but it wasn’t the man you thought you knew. The pain intensified, and then, everything went black.

You gasped, your body jerking upright.

Seungcheol’s strong hands gripped your shoulders, his face a mix of concern and relief as he pulled you into the safety of his arms. Chan stood beside the bed, his expression tense, as if he had witnessed the nightmare unfold with you.

Seungcheol’s voice was soft but firm, “Y/n, you’re safe. It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and your hands trembled as you placed them on your stomach, feeling the phantom pain that had lingered even after you woke. You were still shaken, the remnants of the nightmare crawling under your skin.

You pulled back slightly, your heart still racing, as the pieces of the nightmare began to click together. The man in the dream, the one who had held you so tightly, the one who had caused you such unbearable pain... It was him.

Your breath hitched, and you whispered in disbelief, “It was you…”

Seungcheol froze for a moment, his expression unreadable as the words hung in the air between you two. Chan, who had been standing silently by the door, shifted uncomfortably but remained quiet.

Seungcheol's gaze dropped to your hands, which were still trembling slightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but tinged with an emotion you couldn’t place.

You shook your head, trying to piece together the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “But you said… You said we were married. That I was your wife.” The realization hit you like a cold wave, freezing every part of you except the ache in your chest. “Then… Why would you kill me?”

Seungcheol’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as the weight of centuries seemed to bear down on him. He move closer but didn’t speak right away. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment, as though the memory itself cut deeper than any wound could

“It’s just a dream,” Chan's voice broke the silence, his eyes darting between you and Seungcheol. He stood at the door, arms folded, his gaze sharp and knowing, like he was the only one who could truly read the room. “Don’t overthink it. Dreams are messy like that.”

But it wasn’t just a dream. You could feel it in your bones, in the lingering sensation of pain still curling in your stomach. It was too vivid, too visceral, as if you had lived it once before. And Seungcheol—he wasn’t denying it. He wasn’t saying anything at all.

Seungcheol glanced at you briefly, his face unreadable, before turning away like he couldn't bear to face you. Chan sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping. The Phoenix, ever rational and collected, decided it was time to put out the flames. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a cup of steaming peppermint tea.

“Drink this,” he said softly, placing it on your nightstand. His fingers hovered over the rim of the cup for a second longer than necessary, the warmth from the tea mirroring the warmth in his gaze. “It’ll calm you down. Bad dreams have a way of sticking to you, but they’re just that—dreams.”

You stared at the tea, then at Chan, then at Seungcheol. He sat at the edge of your bed, head bowed, one hand resting on his knee. He hummed softly, a tune unfamiliar but oddly comforting. The sound washed over you like a lullaby, pulling you into its gentle rhythm. The exhaustion from your nightmare crept back in, and before you knew it, your eyes grew heavier.

The last thing you saw was Seungcheol’s eyes on you. He wasn’t looking at you like a demon. He wasn’t looking at you like a monster. He was looking at you like a man weighed down by something heavier than the world itself.

When Seungcheol closed the bedroom door behind him, his eyes met Chan’s. The silence between them was sharp as a blade, tension hanging in the air like a fog that refused to lift. Chan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his golden eyes fixed on Seungcheol like he’d just uncovered a dark secret.

“It was her memory,” Chan said, his voice low but firm. There was no doubt in his tone. No hesitation. Seungcheol nodded slowly, confirming it without a word.

Chan’s eyes widened in shock. He tilted his head, as if seeing Seungcheol for the first time. “You killed her?” he whispered, his words quiet but cutting. He glanced toward your room, careful not to be overheard. “You killed your own wife, master?”

Seungcheol didn’t respond right away. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, his eyes void of emotion. He looked tired. More than that, he looked… resigned.

“Why?” Chan asked, his voice tight with disbelief. “What do you want me to say, Chan?” Seungcheol’s voice was hollow, almost bitter. “Yes, I killed her. I killed the only person I was supposed to protect.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was filled with the weight of unspoken sins. Chan’s eyes flickered with flames—small but unmistakably angry flames, his pupils a swirling amber glow. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. His fingers flexed, and Seungcheol knew that if anyone else had confessed to such a thing, they would’ve been ashes by now.

But Chan didn’t lash out. He didn’t burn anything down. Instead, he lowered his head, his expression hard but thoughtful. “Why?” he asked again, this time slower, more controlled.

Seungcheol glanced at him, eyes hollow yet sharp. “Because I was desperate. Because I was weak. Because I was too afraid to lose her the way I had before. Fear doesn’t just eat at you—it consumes you until you’d rather burn everything down than face it.” His voice cracked near the end, but he steadied himself with a long, slow breath.

Chan stayed quiet, his gaze never leaving Seungcheol’s face. His eyes dimmed, no longer burning with anger but with something closer to understanding. “You regret it,” he stated, not as a question but as a fact.

Seungcheol let out a hollow chuckle, dragging a hand down his face. “Regret?” He shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve lived with that regret for hundreds of years, Chan. Regret is the only thing that stays with me no matter how many lives I live.”

Chan didn’t reply, but the air shifted. His eyes lingered on Seungcheol for a beat longer before he turned and started down the hall. But as he reached his bedroom door, he stopped.

Without looking back, he asked one last question. “Does she know?”

Seungcheol lowered his gaze, eyes distant as if he were somewhere far, far away. “Not yet.”

Chan glanced over his shoulder, his gaze sharp and knowing. “She will.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond, and Chan disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him.

Left alone in the hallway, Seungcheol leaned his back against the wall, eyes drifting to the ceiling. His chest rose and fell slowly, each breath deeper than the last.

He knew Chan was right. You would remember. It was only a matter of time. Memories from the past had a way of bleeding into dreams, and dreams had a way of dragging the truth to the surface. He had seen it happen before.

But Seungcheol wasn’t ready. Not yet. He still had time to figure out how to explain himself, how to make you understand. If you knew the full truth now, you would hate him, and he wouldn't blame you for it.

His eyes flickered with red as he pushed himself off the wall. He turned his gaze toward the sky visible through the window at the end of the hall. It was a deep, endless black, dotted with faint stars. Somewhere beyond that black sky, beyond the world of men and demons, God was watching. He was always watching.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Seungcheol muttered, his voice low but sharp. “Are you watching how everything’s falling apart? Is this your idea of a lesson?”

Silence. No answer. But Seungcheol wasn’t surprised. God had always been quiet when it mattered most.

His fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms. “If I’m supposed to repent, tell me how. If I’m supposed to atone, tell me what I need to do.” His breath came heavier, sharper, his voice trembling with something between rage and desperation. “If you want me to suffer, just say it. I’ll endure it. But don't make her suffer anymore. Please.”

Still, there was only silence. The weight of it pressed down on him harder than any curse or punishment ever could.

Seungcheol turned away from the window, his eyes dimmer than before. “Fine,” he muttered bitterly. “Keep watching. But when she remembers everything, don’t expect me to stay quiet.”

With that, he headed down the hall toward his own room, footsteps slow, his heart heavier than ever. The past was clawing its way back to you, and once it reached you, everything he had built with you could be reduced to dust.

But for now, you were still sleeping peacefully behind that door, and for now, that was enough.

Just for a little longer, he would hold onto the fragile peace between you.

*

“You guys are awfully quiet today,” you remarked, glancing over your shoulder as you prepped the vegetables. It was a rare sight — the demon and his phoenix companion both seated at the dining table, each hidden behind a newspaper like two old men with too much time on their hands. Neither of them offered a snarky reply, which only added to your curiosity.

The rhythmic sound of your knife chopping vegetables echoed softly in the kitchen. You moved with ease, the repetitive motion almost meditative — until it wasn’t. The weight of the knife in your hand suddenly felt different, heavier somehow, like something cold and sharp was pressing against your skin.

Your breath hitched. The sensation was far too familiar. Too vivid. It wasn't the smooth grip of the kitchen knife you felt — it was the cold, unyielding touch of a blade against your stomach. Your eyes widened as a sudden flash of your dream came rushing back.

“You okay?” Chan’s voice was gentle but sharp, his eyes already on you. Before you could respond, he was next to you, taking the knife from your hand with a quiet but firm grip. “I’ll take over.” His tone left no room for argument.

You nodded slowly, handing him the apron and stepping back. “Thanks,” you muttered, rubbing your hands together to ease the tension in your fingers.

You sat at the table beside Seungcheol, still a little dazed. The rustle of paper caught your attention as he lowered his newspaper, folding it neatly before turning to you. His dark eyes scanned you, quiet and calculating, like he could see every thought running through your mind.

“What do you think about the wedding next month?” he asked, his voice so casual it almost didn’t register at first.

The sound of Chan’s knife chopping on the cutting board abruptly stopped. You stiffened, eyes darting to Seungcheol, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. But he wasn't. His gaze was steady, unwavering, like he'd just asked if you wanted sugar in your tea.

"The… the wedding?" Your voice faltered as you blinked at him, eyes narrowing in confusion. "Next month?”

Chan’s knife resumed its steady rhythm, but slower now, more deliberate. Your heart, on the other hand, picked up speed.

Seungcheol tilted his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his lips tugging into a sly grin. “You’re the one who said you were ready, weren’t you?” he leaned in, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin on his hand. His voice was honey-smooth, but there was a sharpness underneath it, like a hidden blade. “I’m just following through.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. You did tell him you were ready. You’d said it with so much confidence, too. But that was before the dream. Before the flood of questions you couldn’t shake.

“I didn’t think it would be so soon,” you said slowly, trying to sound nonchalant. “A month feels… fast.”

“We’ve waited for lifetimes,” Seungcheol replied, eyes fixed on yours with quiet intensity. “A month is nothing.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. You knew he was being literal. The idea of reincarnation and past lives was still something you were trying to grasp, but Seungcheol talked about it like it was as normal as breathing. Every time he mentioned it, it felt like he was placing invisible weights on your chest.

“Don’t I get a say in the date?” you asked, trying to regain some semblance of control.

“You did.” His grin widened, sharper now. “When you said you were ready.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, ready to snap back with something clever, but the words didn’t come. He was playing you, and he knew it. Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the very picture of smug satisfaction.

Chan placed the chopped vegetables into a pot, letting out a loud exhale like he was trying to release some of the tension. “I think she deserves a second opinion, Master,” Chan said, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon, his tone a little too neutral.

“And you think you’re the one to give it?” Seungcheol quipped, one brow raised.

“Better than you forcing a date on her.” Chan’s eyes flicked toward you, a knowing look flashing across his face before he glanced back at the pot.

You folded your arms, mirroring Seungcheol’s stance. “Yeah, I’m with Chan on this one.”

Seungcheol's eyes moved between you and Chan, his grin fading into something softer but more dangerous. His fingers drummed lightly on the table. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low like a distant rumble of thunder. “We’ll discuss it. But no more stalling, Y/N. You said you were ready. Don’t take it back now.”

The way he said it wasn’t a threat, but it wasn’t a request either. It was a reminder. An unspoken promise.

You swallowed hard, forcing a light laugh as you reached for the tea Chan had poured earlier. “I’m not stalling,” you said, staring into the cup as if the swirling liquid could give you answers. “I just… want to be sure.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately, and when you looked up, he was still watching you. Not like a predator. Not like a demon. But like a man waiting for something. An answer? A sign? A chance to explain himself?

Your fingers gripped the warm cup, and for a moment, you remembered the feeling of blood seeping through your hands in that dream. The phantom pain from the stab wound still lingered, sharp and fresh. You glanced at Seungcheol and, for the briefest moment, you saw it. A flicker of something in his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Regret, perhaps.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said suddenly, his tone quieter now. His gaze flickered down to the table before he lifted his eyes back to you. “I’m not the man you saw in your dream.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. Your fingers tightened around the cup, eyes narrowing at him.

“I never told you about my dream.”

Seungcheol's eyes widened, if only for a split second. He didn’t flinch, didn’t break eye contact, but you saw the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. His tongue ran over his bottom lip, his gaze dropping for a moment too long.

“I guessed,” he said with a shrug, but the casual act didn’t fool you.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. Your silence was enough to make him shift in his chair, his hand running through his hair like he’d just realized he’d made a mistake.

You were sitting on the couch, absorbed in a late-night TV show, when Chan nudged you, shaking you out of your trance. You hadn’t even realized he was calling your name until he moved you gently, concern written across his face.

“What’s going on?” you asked, blinking in confusion. The room seemed to tilt for a moment, and before you could register what was happening, the images shifted. You were no longer in the safe, cozy space of your living room.

In front of you was a bloody war, swords clashing, people screaming as they fought under a stormy sky. The chaos felt so real, so vivid, it was as though you were right there in the middle of it. You looked around, panic rising in your chest, but all you could see were the bloodied soldiers fighting relentlessly. A knot formed in your stomach, and without thinking, you turned and fled, stumbling toward a room and locking the door behind you. Your heart pounded against your ribs, racing in time with the noise of battle outside.

“What was that?” you whispered to yourself, trying to catch your breath.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your door. You froze.

It was Seungcheol.

“Y/n? You okay? You’re pale,” Chan’s voice broke through your thoughts as he placed a plate of fruit in front of you, his eyes concerned.

You blinked rapidly, trying to shake the remnants of the war from your mind. “Where’s Seungcheol?” you asked, looking around, noticing the absence of the familiar presence that often made you feel safe.

Chan shrugged, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You always know where your master is. What’s going on? You two fight?” Your words came out teasing, but there was an underlying concern you couldn’t hide.

Chan’s lips curled into a small pout, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but think he resembled a bird, especially with the way his eyes softened. “Just angry.”

You couldn’t suppress a small laugh at his pout. “Aww, look at you, a cute bird,” you teased, brushing a stray strand of his hair out of his face. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the moment. “But seriously, what’s going on? You guys fight over something important?”

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a dramatic fashion. “Just found out something he’s been hiding from me for a hundred years,” Chan muttered, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

Your curiosity piqued. “And it is?” You leaned in slightly, eager to hear more.

Chan’s expression darkened, and he shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You? Keeping a secret? I didn’t know birds could do that.” You grinned, teasing him again.

He sat up straight, flapping his arms in mock indignation. “I’ve always been able to keep a secret!” His eyes widened with mock offense, but there was a playful twinkle in his gaze.

You chuckled, feeling the tension in your chest loosen slightly. “Alright, alright, you’ve got your secrets. But can’t you tell me just a little bit? Just a hint?”

Chan’s face softened, his gaze shifting to the floor, clearly wrestling with something in his mind. He fidgeted uncomfortably before speaking again, his voice quieter now. “It’s about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “About me?” you repeated, leaning in closer, searching his eyes for any clues.

Chan bit his lip, clearly torn. “It’s something only Mr. Choi can tell you. I can’t say more. But… just trust me, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly, taking in his words. It was clear that whatever this secret was, it was huge, and Chan wasn’t about to break his master’s trust.

You nodded, realizing this was one mystery you wouldn’t be able to solve on your own. However deep inside, you felt an uneasy stir at the thought of what this secret could be.

Chan’s voice broke through your thoughts again, softer this time. “Do you love him?”

The question caught you off guard. For a moment, you were frozen, your mind racing as you tried to understand the weight of what he was asking. You glanced at him, noticing the serious look on his face. It was unlike the usual playful banter between you two, and something about his demeanor made you pause.

“What do you mean, love him?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost as if you were questioning yourself. Your thoughts immediately shifted to Seungcheol.

How had he treated you?

He was always there when you needed him, gentle and patient, offering you warmth and safety. He had protected you when you felt vulnerable and helped you navigate through the chaos of everything supernatural. His presence had always felt like a comfort, a steady anchor in the storm.

The way he looked at you, his eyes so full of emotion, and how he spoke to you with such care and respect—no one had ever treated you like that before. It felt like you were his priority, always.

A small, unsure smile tugged at your lips. “I… I think he’s treated me better than anyone ever has.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you instantly realized the truth behind them.

It wasn’t just the way Seungcheol had taken care of you. It wasn’t just his kindness or the way he always made sure you were safe.

It was the way your heart fluttered when he was around, the way he made you feel seen and cared for, the way your pulse quickened when he smiled at you. Everything he did, every little gesture, made you feel special, and that feeling had grown inside you, so quietly and steadily that you hadn’t even realized it until now.

“I think… I might like him,” you murmured, the realization hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. But then, a small fear crept in, a hesitation in your chest. “Or maybe… I love him?”

Chan’s eyes softened as he watched you, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not a bad thing, you know.” He paused, his tone sincere now. “He feels the same about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and a warmth spread across your chest. The idea that Seungcheol might feel the same way about you, that he might be going through something similar, left you breathless.

But as the silence settled between you and Chan, you realized that you didn’t need to figure it all out right away.

For the first time, the idea of love—real, unspoken love—seemed less terrifying and more like something worth exploring. Something you were ready to embrace.

As you sat there, letting the weight of everything sink in, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm. Whatever was to come, whatever the future held for you and Seungcheol, you knew one thing for sure: you were no longer running from your feelings. You were ready to face them, to understand them, and maybe, just maybe, to love him too.

*

Is it love? Or is it guilt?

Seungcheol couldn’t differentiate it anymore. Every time he looked at you, the warmth in his chest surged, as it always had. You were just as beautiful, gentle, and kind as you had been before. And yet, the thought of you loving him back felt like a nightmare he couldn't escape.

"She will forget you until she loves you again," the words echoed in his mind, words spoken by a voice long past but still haunting him.

Was the return of your memories a sign that you might love him again?

The idea should have filled him with relief, with hope, but instead, it only made him uneasy. The more you remembered, the more it felt like he was walking closer to the edge of a cliff—one he’d already fallen off once.

And then, the truth hit him with a weight he couldn’t shake: If you remembered everything—every betrayal, every lie, every death—what would happen to the fragile bond you were starting to form again? You had promised, in your past life, that you would never love him again.

How could he live with the fact that he had once killed you, the woman he loved, and then had to watch you remember it all over again?

The fear that gripped Seungcheol was suffocating. It was the nightmare he had long tried to bury deep inside himself, the nightmare that now threatened to resurface as your memories awakened.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to step away. Every part of him wanted you, wanted to protect you, to make up for the damage he had caused in every life, but how could he? How could he expect you to forgive him, let alone love him again, after everything he had done?

It felt like a cycle he couldn't escape. Every time you got closer, the ghosts of his past pulled him further away from you. And yet, his heart couldn’t help but yearn for the possibility, for the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

But that fear… that deep, gnawing fear of losing you again—of repeating the same painful mistake—was a burden he didn’t know how to carry.

“I think I love you,” He raised his head, and his eyes met yours. There was something haunting about them. Not sadness. Not guilt. It was worse, like he was staring past you, into something only he could see.

“You don’t remember everything yet,” he finally said, voice low like a distant rumble of thunder. His gaze shifted down to his hands, fingers curling slowly. “If you did, you wouldn’t say that.”

His words made your heart pound in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Seungcheol leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. His broad shoulders lifted and fell with a heavy sigh, and you could feel it — the weight of something unspoken hanging between you.

“In one of your past lives,” Seungcheol started, swallowing hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed like he was choking on the words. “I killed you.”

Your breath hitched, like all the air had been stolen from your lungs. “What?”

His eyes stayed on you, unwavering, as if he’d been preparing himself for this moment for centuries.

“You were supposed to be punished,” Seungcheol continued, his words heavier than stone. “Because of your father. He betrayed the king — my father. They were going to execute you. Everyone wanted it to be a public display. They wanted you to suffer.” His eyes darkened, like he was seeing it happen all over again. “I couldn’t let them do that to you.”

Your body froze. Everything about him felt too close, too real, too raw.

“So you did it yourself,” you whispered, your voice hollow.

He nodded slowly. “I thought it would be mercy. I thought it would be kinder if it was me.” His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you, eyes fixed on the night sky like it could offer him solace. “But it wasn’t. It was the cruelest thing I could’ve done.”

Your head was spinning, the image from your dream flashing before your eyes — the hanbok, the royal chamber, the warmth flooding from your core. The man who held you. The knife. The betrayal.

“It was you,” you breathed, feeling like you were falling from a great height. Your heart clenched, your throat tight as if you’d been stabbed all over again.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out strained, like they had been trapped inside him for centuries. “I begged God to curse me instead. To punish me, not you.” He let out a hollow laugh, filled with self-loathing. “And He did.”

You stared at him, unblinking. “That’s why you’re... ”

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the sky, as if he didn’t have the right to face you. “I killed the only person I ever loved. That was my sin. So He made me immortal. A demon bound to the living world, forced to watch you live and die over and over again, knowing you’d never forgive me.” His gaze shifted to you slowly, like he was afraid of what he’d see. “And I deserve it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t fall. Your chest ached, every breath feeling like it was dragging in broken glass.

“You kept this from me,” you said, voice trembling but sharp. “All this time, you never told me.”

“Would it have changed anything?” he asked quietly. “Would you have stayed if you knew?”

You didn’t answer, because you didn’t know.

Seungcheol leaned back, his head resting against the wall, eyes closed as if he was bracing for something. “I knew this day would come. I knew you’d remember. And I knew you’d hate me.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Your heart was at war with itself. Anger. Sadness. Hurt. But somewhere, hidden beneath the storm of it all, was something else.

Love.

Because even if he was a demon, even if he had killed you once, Seungcheol was still the one who protected you. The one who held you together when you were falling apart. The one who saw you when no one else did.

But now, you didn’t know which part of you was speaking — the woman from the past or the woman you were now.

“Go,” you whispered, your voice breaking like shattered glass.

“Y/n…” His voice wavered, and he reached for you.

“I said go!” You shot to your feet, stepping back as if he had already hurt you. Your breath was shallow, your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t — I can’t think. Just go.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. He stayed there, watching you with eyes that held centuries of regret. But then he stood. No argument. No plea. He walked toward the door, his every step slow and deliberate.

He stopped at the doorway, his back still to you. “I’ll go,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll never stop watching over you. Even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I won’t stop.”

The door clicked shut.

And finally, the tears fell.

*

Seungcheol thought he was hallucinating when he saw you sitting casually on one of the couches. His heart stilled, eyes narrowing in disbelief. This wasn’t his house — it was the house between worlds, a place unreachable by mortals. Yet, there you were, as if you belonged there all along.

“Why are you here?” he asked, voice sharp with confusion, his eyes locked on you as if you'd vanish if he blinked.

Before you could answer, a blur of flames shot through the room. Seungcheol tilted his head just in time to see Chan flying in his Phoenix form, flames trailing behind him like ribbons of light. With a single spin, Chan landed gracefully on Seungcheol’s shoulder, now in his small bird form, feathers slightly charred.

It didn’t take Seungcheol long to figure it out. Regeneration. Chan had recently gone through it. But that only raised more questions. His eyes darted between you and the Phoenix.

You grinned, hands lazily tracing the edge of a nearby shelf. “So, how's the wedding planning going?” you asked, your tone light, playful, like you were discussing a friend's weekend plans. Your nonchalance only made Seungcheol’s unease deepen.

He took a step forward, eyes narrowing further. “You're dead... again?” His voice was laced with disbelief and a hint of exhaustion. This can’t be happening.

You glanced over your shoulder with a sly smile. “Blame your Phoenix pet.” Your eyes flicked to Chan, who suddenly preened his feathers as if he’d done nothing wrong. "He decided to burn down the house while I was sleeping off a couple of sleeping pills.”

Seungcheol’s gaze snapped to Chan, his eyes sharp like a blade. “You burned the whole house down while regenerating?”

You were drowning. Not in water, but in the weight of everything that Seungcheol had left behind. The nights felt colder without him, the silence sharper, and the world dimmer. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You told yourself you were strong, that you didn’t need him.

Every night, you lay awake, tangled in bedsheets that smelled like nothing at all. Your dreams weren’t yours anymore. They were his. The visions came like cruel reminders — flashes of him, his eyes watching you, his hand reaching out just as you jolted awake. You gasped for breath as if clawing your way out of an endless abyss.

They said loving a demon had a price. But nobody told you the cost would be this.

You sat on the edge of your bed, eyes hollow from the sleepless nights that had stolen days from you. Your fingers ran across the label of a bottle of pills, the cool plastic oddly comforting against your skin.

One pill.

But silence didn’t come.

Two pills.

Three pills. The weight on your chest lightened just a little. Or maybe that was just hope.

It should have stopped there.

But it didn’t.

Four. Five. Six. Each one easier than the last. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just the steady hum of nothingness promising to cradle you.

You lost count somewhere between "this is fine" and "I don't want to feel anymore."

And then, everything went dark.

Chan was already watching.

He had watched you for weeks, seen the cracks in your resolve, the quiet pain you tried to bury under fake smiles.

But this… this was different.

He saw the bottle roll from your hand, spinning slowly until it lay still on the floor. You had slumped over on the bed, your breathing uneven, shallow. He heard it — that faint, struggling gasp for air.

And he knew.

He knew what was happening.

"Killing someone is a sin, including killing yourself."

That was what Seungcheol had told him after his first regeneration. It wasn’t a lesson Chan had forgotten, because it had been one of the only times his master had looked at him with fear.

That day, Seungcheol's voice had been as sharp as his eyes. "Don’t play with death, Chan. Phoenixes don’t die — they burn to become better. But if you’re not careful, you’ll mistake destruction for growth.”

His master had been shaken. Chan knew it wasn’t for himself. It was for the thought of someone else trying to do the same.

Chan had always been curious about that. What made demons, demons? If Seungcheol was cursed into becoming a demon because of sin, because he took a life that wasn’t his to take, then maybe…

Maybe it worked both ways.

“Regeneration,” Chan muttered to himself, his wings fluttering as he hopped from the windowsill to the edge of the bed. His sharp gaze scanned you, taking in every detail. The slow rise and fall of your chest. The way your fingers twitched slightly. You were still alive — barely.

He tilted his head. It could work.

If taking a life can curse you into a demon...

His gaze hardened with resolve.

Then maybe taking your own life could do the same.

"Don’t hate me for this," he muttered, his hand flexing at his side, heat radiating from his fingertips. He raised his palm, a small orb of fire flickering into existence, the soft hum of flames the only sound in the quiet room.

He glanced at you one more time, his gaze softening. He didn’t want to do it. But the alternative was worse.

The flames grew brighter, the heat curling in the air around him. His eyes didn’t leave yours, even as smoke began to rise from the carpet. The first spark caught, spreading faster than even he expected. The flames crawled like hungry beasts, licking the edges of the bed frame, the walls, and finally the sheets beneath you.

Chan didn’t look away. He couldn’t.

His master had warned him that fire was a dangerous thing. That flames could destroy as easily as they could cleanse.

But this wasn’t destruction.

This was rebirth.

Seungcheol froze, realization hitting him like a stone to the chest. “No,” he muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. His breathing grew shallow as he glanced at you, sitting there so calmly on the couch, your fingers tracing the seam of the cushion like none of this mattered. “You didn’t.”

Chan straightened, his face hardening with resolve. “I did.”

Seungcheol lunged at him, grabbing Chan by the collar and yanking him forward. “You burned her?!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the space. Chan’s eyes didn’t waver, despite the threat in front of him.

“She was already gone,” Chan shot back, voice sharp, his eyes unwavering. “Do you know how many pills she took?” His voice cracked on the last word, his fingers curling into fists. “She was dying, Master! I just…” His gaze flickered to you, his jaw tightening. “I just gave her a chance.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” Seungcheol roared, his voice full of something raw, something close to desperation. His grip on Chan’s collar tightened. “You think you know how to control life and death now?”

Chan didn’t back down. He leaned forward, meeting Seungcheol's gaze head-on. “I learned it from you.”

Those words hit Seungcheol harder than any blade. His grip loosened, and Chan shoved him back with a scowl.

“She wasn’t supposed to die,” Chan muttered, adjusting his collar. “She wasn’t supposed to leave us.” His voice was softer this time, quieter, like he wasn’t just talking to his master but to himself. "So I did what you did. I used fire to rewrite fate."

Seungcheol ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly, eyes flickering toward you. His gaze softened, but it was tinted with something more fragile—guilt.

Your eyes met his, calm yet sharp. You tilted your head. “You’re mad at him?” you asked, gesturing toward Chan with a lazy wave of your hand. “But didn’t you do the same thing once?”

Seungcheol’s body went rigid. His gaze flickered, his lips parting, but no words came out.

“You killed me too, didn’t you?” you said it so plainly, so casually, as if it were something as mundane as asking about the weather. You tilted your head, watching him closely, like you were trying to gauge his reaction. “Didn’t you, Seungcheol?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Chan looked away, his jaw tight, lips pressed into a thin line.

Seungcheol stared at you like he’d just been stabbed. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fists curling slowly at his sides. He tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

"You’re really bad at hiding it,” you said with a small, bitter smile. “Every time I dream about it, I see you. You always look the same.” You leaned forward, resting your arms on your knees, eyes sharp like a blade poised to strike. “So tell me, Seungcheol. Tell me what you did.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

You raised an eyebrow. “If you can’t say it, I will.” You leaned forward further, close enough that your gaze was all he could see. Your voice was low, cold, and unforgiving. “You killed me.”

Seungcheol closed his eyes. As if by doing so, he could escape it. As if shutting out the world would make it less real.

“I did,” he whispered, his voice hollow, broken at the edges. His eyes opened slowly, filled with something heavy, something that had been weighing on him for centuries. “I killed you.”

You stared at him, your gaze unwavering, piercing straight through him. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.

“Why?” you asked, voice so soft it felt like a dagger sliding between ribs.

Seungcheol’s lips parted, but nothing came out. His jaw clenched, his shoulders tense like he was holding up the weight of the world. "Because they were going to do worse." His voice was sharp, tight like he was forcing every word out of his throat. "Your father was declared a traitor. The entire kingdom wanted you dead. They would’ve dragged you through the streets, humiliated you, torn you apart piece by piece."

He lifted his gaze to meet yours, his eyes filled with something more painful than regret—remorse.

“I didn’t want them to have that power over you,” he said, his voice hoarse like he’d been screaming silently for centuries. “So I did it myself.”

You froze. The weight of his words pressed down on you, sinking deep into your chest. You felt the air leave your lungs, your vision blurring for a second before you blinked it away.

“Because you loved me,” you whispered, barely a breath of sound.

Seungcheol’s face twisted in agony. “Yes.”

You leaned back, shoulders tense, hands curling into fists on your lap. A bitter laugh escaped you, sharp and hollow. "You loved me," you echoed, each word laced with venom. “And you still killed me.”

Seungcheol’s eyes shut tight, his lips pressed into a thin line, but you saw the crack in his armor. His hands trembled at his sides. Don’t look at me like that.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. "What did it feel like, Seungcheol?” you asked, your voice ice cold. "When you looked at me for the last time and decided I had to die—what did it feel like?”

He didn't answer. He couldn’t. His silence spoke louder than words ever could.

“Was it quick?” you pressed, your voice rising. “Did you hesitate? Did you stop for even a second?”

“Stop it,” Seungcheol muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Or did you tell yourself you were doing it for me?” Your eyes locked onto his, burning like an open flame. “Did you think that would make it hurt less?”

“Stop it!” Seungcheol roared, his voice cracking like thunder. His chest heaved, eyes wild as he took a step back, gaze filled with something that looked too much like fear.

“But you didn’t stop,” you said, voice sharp like a blade dragging against stone. “You didn’t stop, Seungcheol. Not when I begged. Not when I cried. Not even when I called your name.”

Seungcheol flinched as if you’d struck him. His eyes squeezed shut, his jaw locking tight as his hands curled into fists. He stood perfectly still, like if he moved even an inch, he’d break.

“Do you know what it’s like to look at someone you love and realize they’ve already decided you’re better off dead?” Your voice trembled but didn’t break. Each word hit him harder than the last, cutting deeper, sharper. “Do you know what it’s like to feel their hands on you, to feel their warmth one second and cold steel the next?”

His breathing grew shallow. He shook his head, eyes still shut. “Don’t do this.”

“I felt it, Seungcheol,” you continued, your voice louder now, raw with every ounce of pain you’d buried for so long. “I remember it now. The way you looked at me—like you were trying to convince yourself it was mercy.” You stepped closer, each step slow and deliberate, the weight of your words following you. “But it wasn’t mercy, was it?”

His eyes snapped open, wild and desperate. "I had no choice!" he roared, voice cracking like thunder. "They were going to drag you through the streets, humiliate you, torture you—I couldn’t let them do that to you!"

His chest heaved with every breath, his gaze frantic like a man drowning with no shore in sight. “I thought... I thought if it had to be done, it should be me,” he said, his voice quieter now, trembling with the weight of it all. “I thought you’d understand.”

Your eyes filled with tears, but none of them fell. Your chest rose and fell with slow, controlled breaths, trying to hold yourself together when all you wanted to do was scream. “Understand?” you echoed, disbelief laced in every syllable. “You think I’d understand that you killed me?” You took another step forward, eyes blazing. “I would’ve fought, Seungcheol. I would’ve fought them until my last breath. I didn’t need you to ‘save’ me.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. For once, he had nothing to say.

“You didn’t save me, Seungcheol,” you said, voice hollow now. “You stole me.”

Silence hung between you like an unbearable weight. Chan stood off to the side, gaze flickering between the two of you, his expression unreadable. He didn’t interfere. He knew this wasn’t his fight.

“I thought…” Seungcheol’s voice cracked, so soft it barely reached you. “I thought you’d hate me.” He looked at you now—not as a demon, not as a king’s son, but as a man stripped bare, raw and broken. “But I didn’t think you’d remember.”

You let out a sharp breath, a humorless laugh escaping you. “Hate you?” you repeated, eyes narrowing. “I hated you so much I swore I’d never love you again.” Your voice broke on the last word, but you didn’t stop. You refused to stop. "I told myself, in my next life, I would never let myself fall for you again.”

Your gaze softened, but it wasn’t with love—it was with pity.

“And look at me now,” you whispered, voice thick with bitterness. “Back where I started.”

Seungcheol's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.

���Do you know what’s worse than hating you, Seungcheol?” you asked quietly, each word laced with an ache he could feel in his bones. “It’s realizing that after everything, after the lies, after the betrayal, after the blade you put in my heart…” You took one last step, close enough that he could feel your breath against his skin. “I still love you.”

His world shattered. You saw it in the way his eyes flickered, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach for you but knew he had no right. He looked at you like you were something holy he had defiled with his own hands.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice breaking apart. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?” you challenged, eyes blazing with the weight of a thousand lifetimes of pain. “Because you don’t deserve it?” You leaned in, voice sharp and unforgiving. “You don’t. You never did.”

His breathing hitched, his shoulders trembling as he took a step back, eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. "I know," he rasped, his voice raw, wrecked. "I know I don't."

“Then why do you look at me like you still want it?” you shot back, and he staggered as if you’d struck him.

You stared at him, heart aching in a way that was far too familiar. Love was supposed to be kind, warm, gentle. But with him, it was brutal. It tore through you, raw and unyielding, like an old scar reopening over and over again.

“Seungcheol,” you said quietly, no anger, no malice—just the simple, unbearable truth. “You killed me once. And somehow, you’re still killing me.”

He dropped to his knees. His hands pressed against the ground as if the weight of your words was too much to carry. His head hung low, eyes shut tight, his breath coming out in short, shallow gasps. He looked like he was praying for forgiveness. But he knew better than anyone—demons don't get to pray.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking like something inside him had finally broken. He pressed his forehead to the ground, his hands gripping the dirt beneath him like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The sound of his voice, so broken, so desperate, filled the room like a haunting melody. He didn’t lift his head. He didn’t dare look at you. For a demon like him, lowering himself like this was an act of surrender, an admission of every sin, every failure.

But you didn’t move. You didn’t reach out.

“Sorry won’t bring me back,” you said softly, your voice steady even as your eyes stung with unshed tears. You watched him crumble before you, the weight of his sin finally crushing him. “Sorry won’t undo what you did.”

He didn’t reply. He just stayed there, on his knees, forehead pressed to the ground like a man waiting for judgment.

But judgment never came.

Instead, you turned away. Your heart felt heavier than ever, but you walked past him, step by step, until he was behind you. You didn’t look back.

“Don’t follow me, Seungcheol,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, but he heard every word. "Not this time."

He didn’t move. He didn’t chase you. He stayed on his knees, still and silent, with only the sound of his shallow breathing to remind him that he was still alive. Alive but not living.

Chan glanced at his master, his eyes filled with something that could’ve been pity or disappointment. He looked away, his gaze following you instead.

“She’ll never stop loving you, you know,” Chan muttered, his voice carrying across the room. “That’s the curse, isn't it?”

Seungcheol didn’t answer. His fingers dug into the ground, eyes still shut, the weight of eternity pressing down on him.

"She'll keep loving you, even when it hurts." Chan's gaze softened as he watched you disappear beyond the door. “And you'll keep hurting her, won’t you?”

Still, Seungcheol said nothing.

Because he knew.

That was the curse.

The curse of love.

Of sin.

Of demons who dared to love like mortals.

The end

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (09)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

chapter warnings: stalking, creep behaviour, reader receives an inappropriate package, mentions of Richard Ramirez, mentions of a threesome.

a/n;; AND WE ARE BACK TO UPLOADING BABY!! Have an early Christmas Gift <33

Something feels… off – that was the best way you could put it. A few months have passed since you started your part-time job at the cafe, but you can’t help but shake off a sense of uneasiness. You couldn’t really put a finger on it, but it’s as though someone was watching you; maybe even following you.

You feel a pair of eyes wherever you go around campus, sometimes even up to the front door of your apartment’s main entrance. It can’t have been Seungcheol or either of the boys because while Mingyu and Vernon had done an absolute shit job at “keeping a close eye” on you; you knew they would never go to such lengths to cause you such discomfort.

“Nonnie?”

“‘Sup?”

You were both sitting in the cafeteria with Vernon halfway through his food while you were poking at the sad excuse of a meatloaf. “What would you do if you felt as though someone is following you everywhere?” Vernon’s ears perked at the implication that you may be dealing with a stalker, becoming alert as he gave you his attention. “Have you seen the guy?” he asked, growing worried when you shook your head.

“When did it start?”

You shift a little in your seat, “I don’t know… Maybe a few weeks after getting that job at the cafe?”

Vernon frowns. He knew you were pretty, hell, that was the reason why several boys from his major came up to him to try and get your number. He’d always reject, saying that he wasn’t comfortable giving out your number so easily; or that if they wanted your number, they should grow a pair of balls and ask you themselves. But, he’d never think that someone would go as far as stalking you.

“Have you told Seungcheol about this?”

“He… He’s still avoiding me…” you mutter sadly, “I mean, yeah, he does reply to my texts and he even gave me the study materials I needed for my exams; but… y’know, he’s still being avoidant…”

‘Damn… It’s been months and he’s still hung up on that wet dream.’

“But, he should at least know this is going on, right?”

You shake your head again. You recall the many times Seungcheol has gotten you out of trouble, or gotten himself into trouble for you while growing up. While he brushes it off as something he’d do for you in a heartbeat, you can’t help but feel as though you were burdening him. You remembered there was one time you had accidentally broken one of his mother’s China, you were maybe 10 years-old?

Your parents had gone on a short business trip to New York and thus, you stayed with the Chois. You had accidentally bumped into a chair and the plate fell out of your grasp. Seungcheol took the blame for you, telling his parents he wasn’t looking when he set the table. He had gotten an earful from his parents, telling him he should’ve been more careful because the broken shards could’ve hurt you.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Cheollie? I-It was my fault, why are you–”

“I know, pup. But, whatever trouble you might get in, I’ll always bail you out, yeah?”

“But–”

“No ‘buts’, pup. I’ll protect you no matter how big or small the mess is.”

“Look, ___, I don’t know what’s making you think you’re a liability,” Vernon pauses to take a sip of his orange juice, “Because based on my observation, Jesus, I sound like Wonwoo hyung now… But, based on my observation, he’s more than willing to do anything for you. Study materials, late night snacks, emergency pad runs – he never says no to you.”

When you suggest that he may be doing it because he feels a sense of responsibility towards you, that he’s spent a majority of his life looking out for you; thus he’s compelled to do so even when you’re an adult, Vernon dismisses it immediately. “Look, I’ve seen Seungcheol hyung with some of the girls he’s dated. Sure, he does the usual boyfriend duties but, I don’t think he’s ever been as doting on them as he is with you.”

You look back down at your uneaten cafeteria food, feeling your appetite leave the more you stare at it. “You aren’t a liability, ___. Cheol cares for you like you mean the world to him.” You sigh as you set the fork down, pushing the tray of food away from you. “Maybe I’ll tell him if things go too far… You know any good food spots that’s still affordable? The cafeteria food today is just… nasty… I don’t know how you managed to eat this?”

“Oh, you got the meatloaf surprise,” he answers and motions you to follow him, “I usually go for the chicken katsu or jjajangmyeon! Not the best, but they’re sure as hell better than the meatloaf.”

“Speaking from experience, I presume?”

“Girlie, I had the worst food poisoning in my entire life! Anyways, have you heard of this Open Mic the school’s planning to host?”

“This assignment requires you to work in pairs,” your professor announced, “And, I’ve done you all a favour by choosing your partners for you.”

The class groans, you included as you cross your fingers and beg the Academic Gods to give you a reliable partner. “I understand that you’d all don’t want to get paired with someone whose work ethic you aren’t familiar with, but believe me when I say that it wouldn’t kill you to work with others.”

You continue to chant your prayers quietly as she begins to read out the names. “Lee ___ and Lee Chan.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You’ve worked with Chan for a group project while you were both freshmen and you’ve mentally noted him as one of the more reliable classmates. Though, your course doesn’t require you to do much group projects so that freshmen project was the first and last time you’ve interacted with, until now that is. Chan gently knocks the empty desk space next to you to pull you out of your train of thought.

“___, right?” he asked, a big smile on his lips as he took a seat next to you, “We were in that one project two years ago, right?”

You let out a small laugh, “That’s me and yes, we were.”

“I’ve seen you around campus with Hansol and a few other seniors! You work at that cafe near campus too, right? How’s the job treating you?”

‘That’s… a lot of questions…’ you think to yourself. But, you politely answered his question anyway. You tell him how you never knew cafes put so much sugar in their drinks until you started working, leading you to order your drinks with less sugar. “The pastries are freshly baked, too! I don’t know where news or rumours of them being leftovers or stored overnight came from, but they aren’t.”

You notice how Chan leans in slightly, his eyes scanning your face.

“Y’know, you’re actually prettier up close.”

His statement… To say it weirded you out would be an understatement – you were creeped the fuck out. Could he be the guy that’s been giving you the heebie-jeebies as of late? You sure hope so, or maybe not. But, either way, you tried to brush off the anxiety that’s beginning to rise in your chest.

“T-Thanks…?”

Chan opens up his laptop, tapping on a few keys on the keyboard and moments later, you receive a small text from the chatroom of the platform your school uses. “I sent you a link to a Google Doc! We could just write out our parts and brainstorm how we can link them together once we’re done!”

You nod your head, clicking into the link.

“Do you live nearby, ___?”

“Mmm… No, I actually commute to school. Occasionally, Vernon would pick me up from Sujeong Central since it’s a five minute walk from my apartment.”

It takes you a moment to realise you’ve just exposed your residential address. When Chan asks if it’d be okay to go back to your place to discuss the assignment, you reject immediately. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude or harsh,” you explained, “I’m just uncomfortable with having people I’m not familiar or close with over at my house.”

The boy nods in understanding, muttering a small apology before turning his attention to the professor as she explains the assignment.

Mingyu and Wonwoo leaned against the former’s black 2022 Genesis G90. You were working your night shift and the group, excluding Seungcheol, have taken it amongst themselves to be your personal bodyguards. They’d drive you home if you’d work the night shift, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe and not having anyone trailing you.

“Any luck in finding out who this creep could be?” Mingyu asks, looking into the windows of the cafe and returns the small wave you gave him.

“So far, zero,” the older replies, “Whoever this creep is, they’re good at covering their tracks or not being caught.”

“Do you think they’re from our university?”

“Given the location of this cafe, I’d say yes. But, we also have to factor in the dodginess of her residential area.”

“Do you think we’d catch this guy? I honestly hate seeing ___ getting so worked up over this…”

“We just need more time.”

Lost in their conversation, the two men failed to notice you picking up a box on one of the cafe tables. There was a printed paper stuck on it, stating that it was a little gift addressed to you. You thought it was cute, a customer having a crush on their barista like in the movies or books you’ve read. But, when you opened it – it was far from a romantic gesture. Mingyu noticed you frozen in place, a look of fear on your face as you stared into the box in your hand.

Nudging Wonwoo, they entered the cafe and approached you to ask what was wrong. When the older male peeks into the box, he immediately grabs it to set it aside. “Do you remember who sat here?” he asks.

You shook your head. It had been a busy day and with the amount of customers coming in and out, the crowd just blended in together; and why would you remember the face of a random stranger?

Mingyu continues to comfort you as the older begin to examine the contents of the box – several pictures of you around campus and in the cafe were printed out, alongside a pair of… men’s underwear. ‘With men like these existing, it’s no wonder why women choose bears,’ he thinks to himself, remembering the hot internet debate a few months prior.

“Do you still want to go home?” he asks as closes the box, “I’ll hold onto these until we catch the bastard.”

When you shake your head, they suggest you stay over at their place for the time being. “Are you sure? I mean, that’s nice of you both to offer me that, but I don’t want to –”

“Mingyu hasn’t been bringing girls in since hell week of his semester started,” Wonwoo adds, allowing you to resume your closing shift, “He’s cleared up his schedule too, so you’re safe from hearing two or more models having sex.”

“And, what about you?” you questioned, “I remember Cheollie mentioning you both had a threesome before.”

The man only shrugs, “Only if I feel like it. I’m either studying, gaming or streaming the majority of the time.”

“Well… If it’s safer, then I suppose I’ll take you both up on that offer. But, I don’t have any spare clothes… Should I head back home to get them?”

Mingyu mentions some of the models he slept with left their undergarments and several clothes behind. “Some of them could be your size, plus you can keep them too!”

“Wouldn’t they want them back?”

“Nah, a lot of it has been sitting in my closet for years now.”

“And, they’re loaded – they could just buy another one.”

Given how many girls Mingyu would have over, it’s no surprise that their apartments would have feminine hygiene products. But, it does surprise you to see how expensive the products were. “Oh, a majority of the models I know and fool around with only use luxury or high class brands.”

“And you bought it just for them?”

“Believe me, ___,” Wonwoo hands you a cup of tea, “If Mingyu isn’t shoving his dick into every female model he finds attractive, he’d be a good boyfriend.”

They lead you into a spare room, letting you get comfortable before they start going over the details of the creep that’s been giving you trouble. “My bet is on that Lee Chan you’re partnered with,” Mingyu says as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, Wonwoo asking him why as he takes a seat on the empty gaming chair at the desk.

“I mean, if you think about it, he said you were much prettier up close; which is already creepy in and of itself. Plus, he asked if you lived nearby and if he could go back to your place to work on the assignment!”

“On one hand, that’s a fair point; but maybe the kid is just a loser in a cute boy’s body that doesn’t know how to talk to girls, too. He probably lacks some kind of social cues.”

“Are you defending a creep’s actions now, Woo?”

“Jesus, Mingyu, I’m only giving the kid the benefit of the doubt.”

When you tell them that it’s unlikely Chan is your stalker, Wonwoo is quick to end that train of thought. “___, I’m only giving Chan the benefit of the doubt. But, that doesn’t mean he’s off the hook just yet, considering the things he’s said to you.”

“But, he looks like a sweet guy!”

He raises an eyebrow, “Just because he looks like a sweet guy, doesn’t mean he’s actually a sweet guy.”

“Yeah, like that Night Stalker dude from L.A.,” Mingyu chimes in, “Think his name was Richard Ra… Ramuda? Ramida?”

“Richard Ramirez.”

“Yeah, him! Sure, he’s got some looks, but dude’s a literal murderer! Hell, I can’t believe people would want to bang him!”

“I mean… I would fuck ghostface if given the chance…” you mutter under your breath, getting a judgemental look from the model. Thankfully, Wonwoo justified your statement. “I’m with her on that ghostface statement. It’s a niche market or target audience, it has its appeal.”

“You’re both freaks, but at least that’s a fictional character. Moving on from both of your masked people's kinks, ___, I think it’s best you let Seungcheol know about this.”

You insisted on not telling Seungcheol, continuing with the whole not wanting to be a liability defence and that you were a big girl now; you can handle yourself just fine! No matter how hard the two men tried to persuade you, you wouldn’t budge. For a brief moment, Mingyu could’ve sworn he saw Seungcheol inside you because he too shared the same stubbornness. Realising they can’t get you to change your mind, the men gave up and bid you goodnight.

“You can stay here for as long as you’d like!” the model tells you, “Maybe, even forever!”

Wonwoo scoffs, “As if Seungcheol would let her.”

gamerwoo: hey hyung cheol: sup gamerwoo: ___ would kill me if she found out i told you this gamerwoo: but just a heads up gamerwoo: she’s got a stalker gamerwoo: will let you know when you need to step in

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwooo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp @minhui896

[svtiddiess]

Nom Nom: The Series | Masterlist

You just love tiddies, and what better way to show appreciation to them than marking them with your teeth?

Genre: smut, fluff, suggestive, established relationship

Series warnings: biting, marking, nipple play, boob play, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, threesome, foursome, creampie

Note: Thank you so much to Indi @wongyuseokie for the sexy banner!

Random BF Texts ➥ Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader ➥ Warnings: mentions of Cheol tiddies

Nom Nom ➥ After what seems like years of asking, your boyfriend has finally allowed you to bite his tiddies. ➥ Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader ➥ Warnings: biting, marking, nipple play, dry humping

Nom Nom: The Revenge ➥ You’ve had your fun with your boyfriend; now it’s his turn to have fun with you. ➥ Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader ➥ Warnings: biting, marking, nipple play, boob play

Nom Nom: The Gyutiddies ➥ You beg your boyfriend, Seungcheol, to let you bite Mingyu's tiddies, and he allows it under one condition: he gets to fuck you while you do. ➥ Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader x Mingyu ➥ Warnings: pet names (princess, baby, daddy), biting and marking of tiddies, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, threesome(?), creampie, dom!Cheol, sub!reader

Nom Nom: The Surprise ➥ Coming soon...

[scoupsakakitty]

Under Pressure | idol!S.coups x idol!reader | 14th svt member reader | tw! Eating disorder | angst,fluff

Filming for Going Seventeen was supposed to be fun. The members laughed, played games, and joked around, but Y/N was struggling to keep up the act. Her body felt heavy, her stomach twisted in hunger, and her head pounded.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to eat anything during the shoot, at least not the snacks that weren’t part of her meal plan. But when she saw the others enjoying the cookies and chips laid out on the table, she couldn’t resist.

She reached for a cookie and took a small bite, the sweet taste instantly comforting her.

But the comfort didn’t last.

“Y/N.”

She froze as a staff member appeared beside her, their voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter in the room.

“What are you doing?”

Y/N quickly placed the cookie down, her heart racing.

“I—I was just—”

Before she could finish, the staff member snatched the cookie out of her hand.

“You know you can’t have this,” they hissed, leaning in closer so only she could hear. “What were you thinking?”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as a few of the members glanced in their direction.

Seungcheol, who had been sitting just a few seats away, immediately straightened up. His eyes locked onto the staff member, and his jaw tensed.

He puffed out his chest slightly, a subtle but clear warning.

The staff member seemed to sense the shift and hesitated before reluctantly placing the cookie back on the table in front of her.

But Y/N couldn’t bring herself to eat it. Her appetite was gone, replaced by shame and guilt.

Seungcheol kept glancing her way, his brows furrowed, but she avoided his gaze.

———————————————————————————-

The moment filming ended, Y/N slipped away to the dressing room, hoping to pull herself together before anyone noticed.

But she wasn’t alone for long.

“What the hell was that out there?” the staff member snapped as they shut the door behind them.

Y/N flinched, pressing herself against the makeup chair.

“I—I just took one bite,” she stammered.

“And that’s enough to ruin everything! Do you know how much pressure we’re under to make sure you look perfect? And you’re shoving cookies in your mouth during a shoot?”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she tried to explain.

“I felt dizzy,” she whispered. “I was scared I’d faint—”

“No excuses!” the staff barked. “You need to get yourself under control. Do you want people talking about how you’ve let yourself go?”

Outside the room, Jeonghan paused as he overheard the harsh words. His eyes narrowed, and without hesitating, he turned and sprinted down the hall.

———————————————————————————-

Seungcheol was in the waiting room when Jeonghan burst through the door.

“Hyung, you need to come now.”

Seungcheol shot up from his chair.

“What happened?”

“It’s Y/N,” Jeonghan said breathlessly. “The staff is yelling at her. It’s bad, hyung.”

Seungcheol didn’t waste a second. He stormed out of the room, his strides long and purposeful.

When he reached the dressing room, he didn’t bother knocking—he threw the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

Both Y/N and the staff member jumped.

“S-Seungcheol-ssi—”

“Don’t,” Seungcheol snapped, stepping further into the room.

Y/N sat frozen in her chair, her face streaked with tears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Seungcheol’s voice was low but filled with anger.

“She—she was eating during the shoot—”

“And?!” Seungcheol’s voice rose, making the staff member flinch.

“She knows the rules—”

“No.” He cut them off sharply. “The only thing I see here is you abusing your position and tearing her down. Do you think I’m going to let that slide?”

The staff tried to speak, but Seungcheol took another step forward.

“You don’t get to talk to my members like this. Ever. If you have an issue, you bring it to me. Not her.”

The staff paled.

“You’re done here,” Seungcheol said firmly. “If I hear one more word about this, I’ll make sure the company knows every detail.”

The staff quickly mumbled an apology before slipping out of the room.

Seungcheol turned back to Y/N, his expression softening as he knelt in front of her.

“Hey,” he said gently, brushing a tear off her cheek. “It’s okay now. They’re gone.”

Y/N finally broke, collapsing into his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I promise I’ve got you.”

———————————————————————————-

The ride back to the dorms was silent.

Once inside, Y/N followed Seungcheol into his room, her nerves eating away at her.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked hesitantly.

Seungcheol turned to face her, his expression soft but serious.

“No, I’m not mad,” he said.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m disappointed,” he admitted.

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

“In me?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m disappointed that you didn’t tell me what was going on.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” she whispered.

Seungcheol stepped closer, taking her hands.

“You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “Not to me, not to anyone else. You’re part of this team, Y/N. And more than that… you’re mine. I’m not going to let anyone treat you like that again.”

Y/N broke down again, and Seungcheol pulled her into his arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Always.”

———————————————————————————-

The next day, Seungcheol followed through on his promise.

He filed a formal complaint against the staff member, and the other members especially Jeonghan backed him up without hesitation.

Y/N’s schedule was adjusted, and the strict diet rules were eased.

But more importantly, Seungcheol made sure she never felt alone again.

He brought her snacks during practice, forced her to take breaks, and reminded her constantly that she didn’t have to be perfect.

And slowly, Y/N began to feel like herself again.

She still had bad days—days where the pressure felt overwhelming.

But on those days, Seungcheol was there to remind her that she was never in this alone.

Because no matter what, he would always be her biggest supporter.

[woozivrse]

“cheol?” you huffed, amused and smiling down at your fiancé. “what’re you doing babe?”

he’d been doing this every single night since he proposed to you without fail. right before you two went to bed during your nightly cuddles. he’d lay on top of you— making sure his weight wasn't fully on you— and start pecking you with kisses everywhere he could reach.

well, not everywhere. he placed his kisses in the same places every night, and you couldn't figure out the pattern at all.

“kissing you,” he answered. “was it not obvious enough?”

you laughed, rubbing one hand up and down his back. “okay, let me rephrase. why are you kissing me in such random spots?”

“your moles,” he placed another kiss, right on the small mole on your collarbone. “if i kiss them enough they’ll appear in our next life, and i'll be able to find you again,” –he kissed the one under your lips, right in the middle of your chin– “and again.”

you scrunch your nose up, smiling at how absolutely cheesy your fiancé was being. you hadn't even realized he was kissing your moles, and usually you had an unconscious feel of where every single one you knew of was. you giggled ruffling up his hair with both hands and kissing his forehead. “well then, i'll just have to start doing the same to you once you're done.”

[cherrybr4t]

seungcheol makes you squirt (+18, mdni)

WARNINGS: somnophilia w/ consent, est relationship, daddy!cheol, (reader calls him daddy twice?) dom!cheol, sub!reader, unprotected sex, squirting, pet names, slight degradation, orgasm denial, not comfy = don’t read!!

seungcheol is determined to make you fall apart tonight.

after making you squirt a few nights prior, he had a deep carnal desire to see you break apart again and squirt around his cock, his fingers—anything.

he loves when you lose all inhibitions when it comes to him—and he dwells on the fact that he’s the only one who can drive you to that point.

knowing how sleepiness makes you enter a new realm of high—giving up control, all senses heightened, he waits til you’re fast asleep.

entering your shared bedroom, his eyes fall upon your sleeping figure and his heart swells at your peaceful state. his needy cock follows suit, staring to swell at the thoughts of what he’s about to do to you.

pulling away the edge of your comforter, his mouth waters at your cute little nightie, so fuckin’ adorable. he traces the pink lace hem of your satin shorts, and admires the way the edges rides up your pretty ass as you lay on ur side.

gently flipping you on your back, seungcheol kisses your tummy, before pulling down the thin material, only to be met with your bare cunt. your scent hits him in the face and he groans at how sweet you smell.

looking back at your pretty face, he notices you’re still sound asleep—probably exhausted from the long day of work. he takes one big obscene slurp up your cunt, stopping at your clit, twirling it around with the tip of his tongue. closing his eyes, he savours the moment, sucking in the bundle of nerves and gently tugging on it with his teeth.

seungcheol notices how your juices are starting to gush from the bottom and smirks knowingly. testing the waters, he inserts a finger in slowly—and it slides in so smoothly.

knowing your favourite combination, he continues to suck and play with your clit as his fingers work non-stop, massaging your soft walls. he loves the way your cunt remembers him, still sucking him in when you’re in a deep slumber.

he hears a soft whimper from above and his eyes trace over your features. his poor baby, probably thinking she’s having an erotic little dream about him.

your breath quickens, and seungcheol recognises the telltale signs of your incoming orgasm that’s about to hit you. he stills his fingers in you, focusing on curling his knuckles up quickly, to stimulate your g-spot, and at the same sucking on your engorged clit like his life depended on it.

a few quick breaths before you start to come undone all over his fingers and tongue. your chest heaves up and down, and small trickles of sweat start to form on your hairline.

he removes his fingers, not wanting to waste any drop of your precious cum, he sucks his own finger dry, growing harder at the taste of you.

seungcheol gets his cock ready, pumping it a few times, teasing his own slit, letting his pre-cum glisten on his thick head. he groans. he could get off simply at the sight of you laying so cutely in front of him.

instead, he drags the tip across your little cunt, coating his cock with your juices before slowly entering you. it’s only when he bottoms out that you start to stir awake.

“cheollie?” you rub your eyes, propping your elbows up to get a clearer picture and grasp on what was happening.

“shh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay, just wanted to play with your pretty pussy. couldn’t help myself,” he starts to move, watching your limp body too tired to move as he wrecks that small cunt of yours.

“nngh, cheol….” you whine, feeling all senses stimulated, and extremely sensitive though you didn’t know why. it took you a while to get out of that foggy-too-tired-to-comprehend-anything state, but you loved the inebriated feeling that came with it. the immense pleasure causing you to space out—you couldn’t think about anything but his cock.

“yes baby, i’m here,” cheol knows how you’re feeling. he knows how the blitzed feeling makes you cum even faster, and he is in fact very determined to see you squirt for him—because of him—on your pretty sheets that you guys picked out together.

his overwhelming feelings of possessiveness take over as he hovers over you with your legs hung over his big shoulders. “my cute baby, look at you so strung out, but clenching me so fuckin’ tight,”

your eyes roll back, barely being able to keep them open, every glimpse of cheol you catch; you savour. his dark eyes never leaving you, his plump lips parted, letting groans and grunts escape him.

“s’good daddy, feels so gooood,” you whine out repeatedly, that being seemingly all you know what to say.

“mm my baby, don’t got a thing in your head right now huh, just how good daddy’s cock making you feel?” he feels you clenching even tighter and this time, when he feels your second wave of orgasm approaching, he stops, and pulls out his creamed cock.

a broken cry escapes you, and he flips you around, pulling your hips up while pushing your back to make you arch further. you turn your head to the side, feeling frustrated that your orgasm got stolen right in front of you; you cry out, begging for him to just continue fucking you already.

“i know you like it when i do that baby, don’t go throwing a tantrum on me now,” he grabs hold of your hair and gathers them into a makeshift ponytail as he slides his cock back into your cunt.

pulling on your ponytail, he finds a pace that makes him cock his head back, string of curses finding their way on his lips and a consistent line of groans escaping at each slapping of cheeks against him.

your jaw slacks, and your eyes shut as you feel like you’re being transported into a different realm again.

“ch-cheol, daddy…” all you can do is repeat his name like a mantra, thanking him for fucking you so good.

“that’s right, love it when i have you all dumb on my cock, i’m all your pretty little head is filled with,”

still gripping your ponytail tight, he reaches down to rub at your sensitive clit, which has been begging to be touched—insatiable, that one. his rough finger pads make friction with your wet and slippery bud and you scream with whatever energy is still left in you.

“wanna cum cheol, gonna cum—s’too fucking good i-i can’t,”

“hold it. good girls cum when they’re told to, and you’re my good girl aren’t you,” he says that, but his fingers rub faster and faster, switching between figure 8’s and tight little circles which makes you dizzy.

“i-i am but, your fingers,” you beg.

when seungcheol feels like he’s pushed you to your limit, he orders you to stimulate yourself even more.

“play with your tits for me baby, want all your senses to be stimulated for me,” and your hands immediately reaches under your nightie top, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples—one pinch and you cry out another beg.

“please daddy, i need to cum,” you decide to play your cards carefully. “wanna cum around your cock cheol, need to milk your cock dry,” knowing that cheol always needs you to cum before him.

“yeah baby? wanna milk me dry? let me fill you up so fuckin’ full?” cheol gives in, and puts more pressure onto your poor clit.

“fuck baby, cum around daddy’s cock, let me see you claim this cock as yours baby,”

your head goes empty as you feel hot flashes throughout your body, before you jerk forward onto your hands, and you feel spurts of liquid shooting out of you, and you feel a long coil of rope unravel out your lower abdomen as you continue jerking.

“fuuuuuuck, that’s a good girl, let it all out for me baby,” cheol moans at the sight of you squirting for almost a hot minute, making a mess on the pretty sheets, some landing on his cock which he’s desperately pumping as he watches like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

he joins you in that moment of ecstasy as he shoots his own serving of hot cum onto your pretty ass.

he sighs, coming down from his high—and activated his after care mode immediately, getting warm towels to clean you up, with a new set of nighties for you to put on after your now needed shower.

he leaves trails of kisses everywhere. “you did so good for me baby, sorry to wake you up, i know you’ve had a long day,” a small pout makes way to his pretty cherry lips you love so much, and you giggle.

“i told you cheollie, i love nothing more than to wake up with a little surprise like that,” you pull him down to kiss him, and he swoops you up to carry you to the hot bath he’s left to finish cleaning you up.

🫦 hi guys!!!! i miss cheol so much,, this is me expressing how much i miss daddy cheol, not a day goes by without a thought of him wrecking me. oke i hope yall liked this,, leave a like/cmt/rb if u did 💋 MUAH XOXO 🍒

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING SEUNGCHEOL INCLUDES…. — sfw

• sugar daddy or boyfriend? (the answer is both.)

• the definition of a REAL MAN. no one has ever treated you with as much respect or given you as much love as seungcheol has.

• you're his pretty little passenger princess and he's your personal chauffeur.

• mom and dad of the group, duhhhh.

• he would drop anything and everything just to give you his undivided attention, no matter how important it is.

• yes. he would still love you if you were a worm.

• he would definitely give you his bank card without a second thought. it would also be linked to your phone, he insists on you using it always and would throw a fit when you don't.

• you would also give him your card at times and he always takes it without a fight, but would never use it.

• would take you out on dates in which you can dress up pretty and maybe dine at a fancy and EXPENSIVE restaurant. don't be fooled though. he also pays attention to the little things so if you're into books, he's taking you to a library themed restaurant. if you like animals, he's booking a ticket to orlando and ya'll are going to the rainforest cafe or something.

• you would never have to lift a finger ever again.

• he would wash your car, fill it up with gas, and take it to go get serviced without any complaints.

• he would burn down the world for you.

• he always puts you first. if he had to pick between you or the company (if they ever made him choose) he doesn't even need to think, it would be you every time.

• also your body guard ! any social gathering ya'll attend, he always has his eyes on you no matter how far away you are from him.

• times in which you do drive yourself, ya'll are definitely the type of couple to have life 360 on each other. he would text you saying to slow the fuck down if you're speeding.

• no matter how much you insist he goes to sleep and no matter how late you're getting home — it could be 4 in the morning, he will ALWAYS wait up for you.

• he has the habit of buying you anything you even slightly mention. he also pays close attention to the things you look at when out shopping together and they would show up delivered to your apartment the next day. he would take the heat from you, but still would continue to spend his money on you.

• when you have a bad day, he is already there with open arms ready to give you the biggest bear hug and shield you from the rest of the world.

• whenever you two go out together, he always has a hand on your back to guide you through crowds or just so everyone knows that you're off limits.

• if you ever lose during game nights with friends or really anywhere, he would do the penalties for you!

• he always makes sure you're on the inside when walking near a street.

• if you ever doubt yourself or feel insecure, prepare for a long serious conversation with lots of tears because he WILL NOT be having any of that. no. not when he thinks you're one of the most beautiful, talented, and honorable people he knows.

• you have never felt so safe and secure than when he's around.

• he will constantly be saying "i love you." definitely the type to call you back immediately if you forget to say it and hang up.

• he has a personal agenda out for revenge against anyone who hurts or disrespects you in any type of way.

• he will be your designated driver for not only you BUT your friends as well during girl's night out.

• he may be competitive, but when it comes to you, he would let you win just so he can see a smile on your face.

• says he CAN'T (won't because he's stubborn) fall asleep if he's not cuddling you.

• he becomes the softest most kindhearted person in the world when it comes to you.

• he gets jealous easily, but he trusts you with his whole heart so he doesn't dwell on it for too long.

• when it comes to arguing, no matter if he was in the right or wrong, he is always the first to apologize. definitely the type to get you chocolate, flowers, and ALWAYS gets you a teddy bear after.

• would make you sit on his back when doing pushups or would give you a piggy back ride when he is doing pull-ups !

• he LOVES when you wear his clothes. you would always find his shirts or hoodies on your side of the closet and be like "hmm, how did this get here?" ask your boyfriend.

• rarely ever calls you by your name. always calls you baby or something cute. he also insists that you don't call him seungcheol. he will pout if you do.

• definitely impressed your parents right off the bat. your family absolutely adores him and your parents treat him like a son.

• he would tease you by giving you a hug when he's all sweaty after practice.

• he INSISTS on picking you up EVERYDAY after work.

[diamonddaze01]

baby, darling, light of my entire life

pairing: csc x fem!reader genre: tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, slice of life | wc: 2.4k au: married au! warning: alcohol consumption (by the reader) | rating: e for everyone

summary: it's laughable how much you forget when you drink.

a/n: one day when i say i’m writing a drabble i will actually write a drabble. one day. that day is not today. // the cheol angst is taking forever so here have some fluff as a precursor // flashbacks in italics!

“WOW,” you shout (very loudly, he thinks) in Seungcheol’s ear. “YOU’RE LIKE, REALLY PRETTY!” 

Seungcheol flinches, rubbing his ear as your voice cuts through the pounding bass of the club. The flashing lights reflect off the crowd around you, turning everything into a blur of motion, but all Seungcheol can focus on is you—his overly drunk wife—looking up at him with wide, dazzled eyes like he’s some stranger you’ve just met.

He had known this would happen. Letting you go out with Jeonghan, Joshua, and their girlfriends without him was practically inviting chaos into the night. He would’ve joined you if work hadn’t held him back, and guilt had gnawed at him all evening for canceling plans yet again (was it guilt, or fear of retribution from Jeonghan? He’d never tell). He’d figured he could catch up with you at the club before things got too crazy.

Clearly, he’d been wrong.

When Seungcheol finally arrives, the table your group has reserved is a mess of empty glasses, and the dance floor is packed with bodies swaying to the beat. It isn’t hard to spot Jeonghan trying to keep you out of trouble—tall and exasperated, attempting to pull you away from a guy you seem hellbent on kicking in the balls.

“I’LL LET YOU KNOW THAT I HAVE A BOYFRIEND,” you screech, words slurring together and voice so loud Seungcheol can hear it on the other side of the dance floor. “AND HE’S THE BESTESTEST - LET GO OF ME!”

Jeonghan, bless his soul, is no match for your drunken ferocity, and lets out a startled yelp as you yank your hands free from his grip and stalk away in a huff. Seungcheol watches with growing amusement as you stumble toward where he stands on the dance floor, eyes lighting up the second you spot him.

“WOW,” you repeat, stopping just inches from him, blinking up at him with childlike awe. “YOU’RE LIKE, REALLY PRETTY.”

Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle under his breath. Your wobbling stance, the way your gaze fixes on him with the same starry-eyed amazement as if you’re seeing him for the first time—it’s all too familiar. He leans in slightly, humoring you.

“Oh really?” he teases, though his lips twitch with amusement. You’re giving him the same starry-eyed look you gave him when you first confessed—though, admittedly, you’re significantly less intoxicated now. Well… maybe not that much less. “You think so?”

You’d had one too many drinks, laughing hysterically with Jeonghan and Joshua about something stupid—something Seungcheol couldn't even remember now. All he could remember was the way your eyes had kept flickering to him, playful but shy, as if you had something on your mind but weren’t quite sure how to say it. He’d leaned in close, pretending to listen to Jeonghan’s nonsense, but really, he was trying to get closer to you.

“Hey, Cheol,” you slurred that night, your voice softer than the buzz of the club, but enough to catch his attention. Your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, your hair falling messily into your eyes, but there was a different look behind them this time—something more serious.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol had leaned in, smiling softly. You were always cute when you were drunk, but tonight, something felt... different. You weren’t just tipsy; you were nervous.

“I have a secret,” you whispered, as if you were sharing the world’s biggest conspiracy.

Seungcheol blinked, amused. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

You took a deep breath, looking around as if you were checking for eavesdroppers before meeting his gaze again. “I...I think you’re really pretty - like. REALLY PRETTY,” you blurted out, your eyes wide with sincerity. “And I think I really, really like you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and Seungcheol remembered feeling his heart skip a beat. He’d liked you for months at that point—he was pretty sure the whole group knew it—but you’d never given him any real sign that you felt the same way. Until now.

“You like me, huh?” Seungcheol had teased, leaning closer, his lips inches from yours. “Or are you just saying that because you’re drunk?”

You had frowned, swaying slightly, but your hands had reached for him, gripping his shirt tightly as if he might disappear. “No, I mean it. I like you,” you had insisted, your eyes growing glassy, a little too honest for your own good. “I don’t wanna be just friends anymore. I want you to be mine.”

Seungcheol’s chest had swelled with affection. “Well,” he had whispered back, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, “I think I’ve been yours for a long time, baby.”

You had blinked at him, confusion flickering in your eyes before a slow, wide smile spread across your lips. “Wait, really?” you asked, the disbelief clear in your voice.

Seungcheol had chuckled, pulling you into his arms then, your confession making his heart race. “Yeah, really,” he whispered before finally closing the distance, pressing his lips against yours.

Seungcheol’s heart swells as he looks at you, those same glassy, honest eyes reflecting an undeniable truth. In this moment, even if you don’t fully recognize him, he can feel it—the love you hold for him is woven into every glance, every flicker of emotion. It’s a warmth that wraps around him, grounding him despite the chaos.

“Yeah,” you breathe, nodding vigorously as if this is the most important fact you’ve ever shared. “But I can’t talk to you,” you add in a whisper, glancing around as if someone might overhear. “I have a boyfriend.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching at your secrecy. “A boyfriend, huh?”

You nod, taking a wobbly step closer. Your hand lands on his arm, fingers curling around the fabric of his jacket like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling over. “Mhm. He’s got these big, strong arms… like yours,” you muse, eyes drifting over his frame with an approving once-over. “And the cutest smile ever. And—wait, are you his twin?” you ask, your voice suddenly full of suspicion.

Seungcheol barely manages to contain his laughter. “No, baby, I’m not his twin.”

Your face brightens again. “Good, because I’m not allowed to flirt with anyone who’s not him,” you declare, though the way you’re still clutching his arm suggests otherwise. “But you’re really pretty, so don’t get any ideas.”

You turn to walk away and suddenly whip back around, pointing an accusing finger in his face. He almost falls over. “And DON’T call me baby! Only my boyfriend can call me that.”

Seungcheol lets out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing a hand over his face to hide his grin. “Baby…”

“HEY! NO!”

He steals a glance at Jeonghan, who has now joined Joshua and their girlfriends at the edge of the dance floor, clearly done with playing babysitter. Jeonghan gives him a knowing smirk, mouthing good luck before turning away. Seungcheol’s patience wears thin, but he can’t help the fond smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you, swaying slightly under the flashing lights of the club. You’re an adorable mess: cheeks flushed from alcohol, eyes wide and glassy as they struggle to focus on him. Every time the music pulses, your body sways, and Seungcheol instinctively tightens his grip on your waist to keep you steady.

“Baby. Darling. Light of my entire life.” His hands slide from your waist to your shoulders, squeezing gently, trying to ground you in the midst of your drunken haze. He crouches slightly, so he’s at eye level with you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a tenderness that makes your heart skip. You blink up at him, clearly confused, your brows knitting together as if trying to figure out a puzzle too complicated for your current state.

“I. Am. Your. Husband,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, almost as though speaking to a child.

Your eyes widen dramatically, hands flying to your chest as if struck by some earth-shattering revelation. “No way!” you gasp, your voice filled with pure astonishment. Your gaze roams over him as if you’re seeing him for the very first time. The lights of the club flicker against his face, casting shadows over his sharp features, and for a second, even in your drunken state, you marvel at just how beautiful he is. “Are you serious?!” you whisper, your tone full of awe.

Seungcheol closes his eyes for a brief moment, fighting back the laughter bubbling in his chest. He leans in, closer this time, until his lips brush against your ear. The familiar warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine. “Yes, I am very serious,” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice sending butterflies into your already churning stomach.

You blink up at him again, head tilting slightly as if processing this newfound information is a monumental task. The room seems to spin a little, and you reach out instinctively, clutching at his arms to steady yourself. “But…” you start, your voice trailing off as you bite your lip, your brows furrowing in deep confusion. “Why didn’t anyone tell me I’m married?”

Seungcheol groans softly, though a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He pulls you in by the waist, his strong arms wrapping around you like a protective barrier from the chaos around you. “You were at the wedding, baby,” he says, exasperation dripping from every word, though his tone is laced with affection. “You were the bride.”

Your eyes flutter as you stare up at him, still trying to wrap your mind around this incredible information. The flickering lights above, the faint scent of alcohol and sweat from the club, the warmth of Seungcheol’s arms around you—it all feels dreamlike. “Wait, so… you’re my boyfriend and my husband?” you ask, your voice rising in a mix of disbelief and wonder.

“Yup,” he says with a soft chuckle, his dimpled smile deepening as he looks down at you. That smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, sends a rush of warmth through your already tipsy mind. Even in your inebriated state, the sight of it makes your heart race. “You really hit the jackpot, huh?”

“NO. WAY,” you repeat, this time louder, your voice filled with awe as you step back slightly, your eyes scanning him again as if to check if this is all real. The music pounds in your ears, but you can barely hear it now over the sound of your own giddiness. “And… do we live together? Like, in a house?”

Seungcheol lets out another soft laugh, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. His fingers linger for a moment, tracing the curve of your cheek before resting gently on your shoulder. “Yes, baby, we do. You even picked out the curtains.”

The memory of your shared home floods your mind—each detail a testament to your love. Sunlight pours through the cheerful curtains you’ve chosen, illuminating the cozy living room where laughter echoes like music. The kitchen, with its warm scents of your culinary experiments and his late-night snacks, feels alive with the essence of you. Every nook and cranny speaks of the warmth you’ve woven into his life, transforming a mere house into a home, brimming with love and memories.

Your eyes widen in recognition, and you gasp, your hands clapping over your mouth. “And they’re so nice!” you exclaim, shaking your head in disbelief. “I have great taste.” You pause, narrowing your eyes at him as another thought pops into your alcohol-clouded brain. “Does my boyfriend—uh, husband,” you correct yourself with a dramatic flair, pointing a finger at him as if delivering an important verdict, “does he know how lucky he is?”

Seungcheol can’t hold back his laughter this time. It’s rich and warm, rumbling from his chest as he pulls you closer, his arms snug around your waist. “Oh, trust me, he knows,” he replies, his voice softening as he presses a tender kiss to your temple.

Even when you can’t remember him, Seungcheol feels a swell of gratitude for your love—for the quiet mornings entangled in the sheets, for spontaneous late-night adventures, for the way your laughter brightens his day.

You sigh in contentment, leaning into his chest, the weight of your body completely sinking into his warmth. The booming bass of the club seems to fade into the background as you melt against him, finding solace in his steady heartbeat and familiar scent. “He’s so lucky,” you mumble, your voice barely audible against the fabric of his shirt, but Seungcheol hears it loud and clear.

He smiles, brushing his lips across the top of your head. “He really is.”

For a moment, the world around you both seems to pause. The chaotic energy of the club, the distant chatter, and the bright lights all fade as you stand wrapped in each other’s arms, content in this little bubble of warmth. But then, just as quickly, you pull back, your brows furrowed in concentration. You blink up at him, still slightly suspicious. “Wait… does this mean I have to go home with you?”

Seungcheol’s deep chuckle reverberates through his chest as he gently brushes a stray hair from your face, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “Yeah, baby, that’s usually how marriage works,” he replies, his voice dripping with amusement.

You frown, trying to piece everything together in your hazy mind. "But I don’t want to leave the club yet… we’re having fun, right?” you ask, your tone almost pleading, as though the thought of leaving this electric energy behind is too much to bear.

At that, Seungcheol’s gaze hardens a little as he leans down, glinting with unspoken promises. He presses a kiss under your ear, relishing in the way you shiver and press against him (he can’t help himself— the dress you’re wearing right now is sin incarnate). His lips linger against your skin for a moment longer, feeling your heart rate speed up at his antics. “We’ll have even more fun at home,” he murmurs, his voice deep and sultry; he smirks when you stumble a little in his grip, knees growing weak.

But of course, he’s not getting lucky tonight—you pull back just as quickly as you melted in his arms. You squint at him, narrowing your eyes as suspicion creeps in, your drunken mind still struggling to grasp the concept. “You’re not just saying that because you’re so pretty, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning in until his face is mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips. His dark eyes sparkle with mischief as his voice drops to a low, teasing whisper. “You’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

For a long moment, you stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind trying to decide whether or not to kiss him right then and there. The world seems to slow around you, the only thing you can focus on is him—the way his lips hover so close to yours, the way his arms wrap securely around you, and the soft, affectionate look in his eyes. Finally, you let out a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Fine,” you say, leaning in slightly, your lips brushing his with the faintest touch. “But only because you’re so pretty.”

[seokmn]

OUR SHIRTS

pairing: bf!seungcheol x gn!reader

wc: 0.3k words

warnings: mention of reader’s small figure, suggestive comment abt taking a shirt off

seungcheol seemed to be searching for something in specific in his room, specially in his closet. confused by not finding it, he made his way to the kitchen, where you were peacefully making some tea. drying his damp hair with the side of the towel that was around his neck and looking around the house in attempt to find whatever he was trying to find.

“hey, honey. have you seen my-“ he stopped in his track when he landed his eyes on you turning around to look at him while he’s talking, he pointed at you and raised his eyebrow. “is this my shirt?”

you looked down at the shirt you were wearing before looking back at him with a smile on your face, “yeah, were you looking for it?” he simply nodded, his eyes fixed on your small figure with his large shirt on, complete hypnotized by your beauty. “i can take it off if you want to” you said with your hands already traveling to the hem of the shirt to take it off and give it to him.

he immediately shook his head, “no!” he cleared his throat, trying to get back to his senses, before letting out a chuckle and pulling you closer to him by your waist. “y’know, as much as the thought of you taking it off is very tempting, the sight of you wearing it is so…” he looked at you up and down with a slight smirk on his face. “breathtaking”

you chuckled and he hugged you, placing his head in the crook of your neck. he took a deep breath and let it out before mumbling against your skin, “i love when you wear my shirts”

“your shirts?” you pushed him back a little bit, just enough to get to meet his eyes, “babe, theyre not your shirts, theyre our shirts”

he scoffed and rested his head in you neck again, getting back to the original position and gently squeezing your sides. “i love when you wear our shirts”

[cherry-zip]

─ • CSC .ᐟ Aisles of Affection

› content ┆ idol scoups x fem reader, established relationship, jealousy, fluff ✎ word-count .ᐟ 2.2k. ⌁ summary ┆ After a hectic week, Seungcheol and you decide to go on a grocery shopping date. As you stroll through the aisles, picking out ingredients for a cozy dinner, an encounter with a supermarket worker triggers a wave of jealousy in Seungcheol.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated!

It had been one of those relentlessly exhausting weeks—the kind that stretched like a rubber band pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment. Between work deadlines, classes, and running errands, you and Seungcheol had barely seen each other. So when Friday evening finally rolled around, you decided to do something simple yet meaningful: spend the evening together, just the two of you. A casual date at the supermarket to pick out ingredients for a cozy dinner sounded perfect. You didn’t need anything fancy to enjoy each other's company; just a quiet evening to unwind.

As you made your way to the nearby supermarket, Seungcheol grabbed a cart, pushing it alongside you with his strong, sure hands. You walked in hand-in-hand, his grip warm and firm as he led you to grab the cart. There was something so comforting about its simplicity. You didn’t need extravagant dates when the best part of the day was always being with him. His presence was steady and comforting, like an anchor in the middle of a storm. Even something as mundane as grocery shopping felt special with him by your side.

“Should we start with vegetables or fruit?” he asked, his voice warm and casual, his eyes scanning the signs hanging above the aisles.

“Fruit,” you replied without hesitation. “I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

He smirked, giving you a teasing look. “You’re always in the mood for something sweet.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Can you blame me? Life’s better with dessert.”

His smile widened at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way you loved. “Alright, fruit it is then.”

As you made your way to the produce section, you noticed Seungcheol looking over at you every now and then, his gaze soft and thoughtful. It was the little things like that—those quiet moments of tenderness—that reminded you just how much he cared. He wasn’t always the type to say it out loud, but his actions spoke volumes. The way he gently guided you through crowds, how he’d grab things off the highest shelves without you asking, or how he’d always make sure your favorite snacks made it into the cart.

Seungcheol was the type of boyfriend who always paid attention to the little things. He knew you loved cherries, so of course, he steered the cart straight to the fruit section. He began scanning the shelves with his sharp eyes, intent on picking the best ones for you. It didn’t take long to reach the rows of colorful fruit. Your eyes immediately went to the cherries, plump and bright red under the fluorescent lights. You reached out to grab a pack, but Seungcheol beat you to it, picking it up and examining it with a critical eye.

“They don’t look that fresh,” he said, frowning as he held the pack closer for inspection. “Let me see if there are better ones.”

You chuckled softly, amused by how seriously he took even the smallest details. “Seungcheol, they’re just cherries. I’m sure they’re fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. “No way, I’m getting you the best ones.” His gaze flicked to a nearby worker stocking the fruit section, a young guy with a friendly smile who seemed happy to help.

And that’s when things started to shift.

The worker noticed Seungcheol’s approach and walked over. His name tag read *Minho* in neat black lettering. He glanced between you two before stepping closer, offering a polite nod. “Hey, can I help you with anything?” he asked, his tone overly friendly as he glanced in your direction, giving you a smile that lingered just a bit too long.

And that’s when you felt the subtle shift.

Seungcheol, who had been calm and easygoing just moments ago, suddenly straightened, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the cherry pack. His jaw set a little firmer, and his eyebrows narrowed just a fraction, barely noticeable, but enough for you to catch it. You sensed the subtle shift in his mood, like a storm cloud gathering on the horizon. Was he... jealous?

“We were just looking for the freshest cherries,” Seungcheol said, his voice polite but a little sharper than usual. “These ones don’t seem great.”

Minho looked at you again, clearly unaware of the silent territorial tension now simmering between you and Seungcheol, smiled, and nodded. “Oh, those are great, but if you want the best ones, we’ve got a new batch in the back. I can go grab them for you if you’d like.” He flashed you another grin before glancing at Seungcheol, who was glaring at him.

You noticed then that Minho’s gaze lingered on you a little longer than it should have, the kind of glance that seemed more friendly than professional. It wasn’t inappropriate by any means, but it was enough to catch Seungcheol’s attention. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers curling possessively on your skin. His grip was gentle, but there was a clear message behind it.

“No need,” Seungcheol replied quickly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll take these.”

You could feel the simmering frustration rolling off him in waves, though he tried to keep his expression neutral. Minho blinked, clearly catching on to the underlying tension but still oblivious to its cause. “Alright, well, if you need anything else, just let me know,” he said, shooting you one last smile before walking off to help another customer.

As soon as Minho was out of earshot, Seungcheol exhaled slowly, his shoulders still tense. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers tightened on your waist, his face drawn into a tight line. He didn’t say anything as you continued down the aisles, but you knew him well enough to understand what was going on. Your usually confident and calm boyfriend was feeling... jealous.

The thought of it almost made you laugh. Choi Seungcheol, leader of Seventeen, who could command attention with just a look, was jealous over a random supermarket worker? It was adorable, really.

You leaned closer to him as you walked past the dairy section, nudging him gently. “You okay, Cheol?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

He didn’t look at you at first, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the tone of his voice said otherwise.

But he wasn’t fine, and you knew it. You could see the way his jaw was clenched, the way his eyes flicked toward where Minho had gone as if to make sure the guy wasn’t still looking at you. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so out of character for him.

“You sure? Because you’ve been acting a little... off since the fruit section,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he leaned against the cart, his eyes searching yours. There was something vulnerable in his gaze that made your heart squeeze a little. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, though you could tell he was struggling to brush it off. After a moment, he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “It’s just—did you see the way that guy was looking at you?” he asked, his voice low, almost frustrated.

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “Minho?”

“Yeah, him, Minho,” Seungcheol said, his brow furrowing, nearly spitting out the name like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “He was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

You tried to hold back a laugh, but the seriousness in Seungcheol's expression made it impossible. You let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Cheol, he was just being friendly. I doubt he even thought about me like that.”

But Seungcheol wasn’t having it. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Well, I noticed. And I didn’t like it.”

There was a pause as you took in his words, your heart fluttering at the possessiveness in his tone. He wasn’t usually this direct about his feelings, but when he was, it always caught you off guard. You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his dark hair, trying to soothe his worries. Choi Seungcheol—your confident, cool-headed boyfriend—was feeling jealous because of a brief interaction with a random supermarket worker. It was kind of adorable, really.

You leaned up on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, your fingers grazing his jawline. “You don’t have to worry about anyone else, Cheol,” you murmured against his skin. “I’m yours, remember? I always have been.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close in a protective embrace. “I know...,” he whispered, his tense expression softening just a bit, but the jealousy still lingered in his eyes. “I just hate the idea of someone else thinking they have a chance with you.”

You leaned up on your tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the tension in his body slowly melt away as he kissed you back. His arms tightened around you, anchoring you in place as if he needed to remind himself that you were still there, still his.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady

 beat of his heart as you stood there, cocooned in your own little world amidst the bustle of the supermarket. No one could ever compare to him, and you hoped he knew that. “You’re the only one for me,” you reassured him softly.

Seungcheol was quiet for a moment, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, the edge of frustration melting away. “I know. I guess I just get... protective sometimes.”

You smiled, tilting your head up to look at him. “Sometimes? Mmmh… You’re always protective.”

Seungcheol chuckled at that, his mood finally lightening. He gave you a sidelong glance, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Can you blame me? Well, you’re worth protecting.”

As you finished up your shopping and headed to the checkout, the earlier tension seemed like a distant memory. Seungcheol was back to his usual self, joking with you as you debated which snacks to buy. And when you passed by Minho one last time, you couldn’t help but notice the way Seungcheol shot him a quick, pointed look, as if to silently say, *She’s mine.*

And honestly? You kind of loved it.

That night, as you cooked dinner together in the warmth of your small apartment, the earlier jealousy seemed almost silly. But deep down, you knew it meant something more. Seungcheol loved you fiercely, protectively, in a way that made you feel safe and cherished. And even if it meant dealing with the occasional amount of jealousy, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because at the end of the day, you knew one thing for sure: Choi Seungcheol was your boyfriend, and no one—not even a flirty supermarket worker—could ever change that.

Later that evening, after you had returned to your apartment and started cooking together, sneakily eating cherries at times while still thinking back to the supermarket, Seungcheol stood beside you, focused on chopping vegetables while you stirred the pot on the stove. The warmth of the kitchen, the quiet clinking of utensils, and the soft hum of your shared space felt like a balm to the stress of the week.

“So,” you said casually, breaking the comfortable silence. “About earlier…”

Seungcheol glanced at you, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Nope. I just think it’s cute that you got jealous over a supermarket worker.”

He groaned, running a hand over his face as if to hide his embarrassment. “I wasn’t jealous—I was just… being cautious.”

“Sure thing, darling,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “Whatever you say.”

He sighed dramatically, setting the knife down before turning to face you. “Fine, maybe I was a little jealous. But can you blame me? You’re the most amazing person in the world, and I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a shot with you.”

You felt a surge of affection as you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing gently against his skin. “You have nothing to worry about, Seungcheol. I’m all yours, forever.”

His eyes softened at your words, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I love you,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making your heart swell.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the kitchen and the comforting presence of the man you loved, you knew one thing for certain: no matter what, no one could ever come between you.

› anonymous review form

yes i had to make it about cherries out of every fruits available... i might just be obsessed thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! don't forget to like, reblog, comment ^^

❀ a/n┆I've been writing a longer fic.. I've no idea if it will ever come to life so I do have a shorter and modified version coming at some point

‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip"🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

[iannmin]

Pound Town | c.sc 최승철

tags + warnings: cowboy!highsexdrive!seungcheol x fem!reader, breeding kink, creampie, praise kink, riding, public sex (?), mdni 18+

synopsis: “save a horse, ride a cowboy”

a/n: we all NEED a man like cheol ughh, anywayss enjoy my first svt fic <3 love you mwahh

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you weren't exactly sure how long you'd been riding. a horse? no. in fact, you were riding the hottest cowboy you’d just met in the west town. the man, who hastily introduced himself as "cheol," had offered you a ride when your poor Dodge Charger broke down, but it seemed the two of you interpreted "ride" in entirely different ways. so now, instead of heading to your appointment, there you were, straddling him in a deserted parking lot beside the western pub, his vintage car creaking beneath you.

the soaring heat of the day was long gone and mellowed into a dusky twilight, casting long shadows across the deserted lot, and yet,, cheol wasn’t finished. the foggy windows and the ring of white cum forming at the base of his shaft might have been a good indication of how long the both of you might have been doing the deed but nobody seemed to be paying attention anyways.

“hah….fuck…s’good” cheol was propped up on the backseat of the car, old-fashioned belt and jeans pooling around his knees, a sheen of sweat trickling down on both sides of his forehead, but amidst the sweltering heat in the car, his eyes never left yours. while you, on the other hand, were barely keeping up with the pounding. he had both of his huge hands wrapped around the sides of your waist, guiding you up and down his dick repeatedly, simultaneously bucking up his hips rhythmically to press sweet kisses on your cervix. of course, you were a moaning and whimpering mess, blabbering incoherently, tears forming at the brim of your eyes. “nnngh…cheol…can’t” you whine weakly. “slow down, please…hah..” yet despite your protest, cheol seemed to be driving you close to your umpteenth orgasm. but this time, he was finally close too.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s it, attagirl, gonna fill you up to the brim, you’re all fuckin mine.” cheol pants, snapping his hip harder into yours, the squeaky sounds from the leather of the vintage car’s seats and your skin-to-skin slapping intensifying “hnng,,can’t!” you wail, high crashing down as you tremble in his grip, sobs wracking your body as your cunt clenches down on his cock, white ring of cum thickening around the base of his cock as he rams into your pussy, swears profusely escaping his lips.

“so… fuck… going to breed you” cheol groans, gripping your waist tightly and painfully as his high hits shortly after, slamming his cock deep as hot cum fills you to the brim, warmth spreading as you wail with the overstimulation, so full already of his release, but you felt euphoric. “s’full….feels s’good” you whimpered

cheol chuckled at your fucked out state, “next time you need a ride, ride me instead, because cowboys ride harder and stay on longer.”

[nachojaehyun]

love galore

pairing. ex boyfriend seungcheol + afab reader

summary. when you meet your ex at a charity event, you like to imagine that the universe just wants to kill you. luckily, the mysterious forces of nature have other plans.

w.c 0.9k

warnings. porn with very little plot, car sex, backseat shenanigans, riding, minor tit play, BIG DICK CHEOL!!!! steamy sex, skin slapping, petnames: hers baby, slut his cheol, cheollie — 18+ MINORS DNI!

a/n. exam szn testing my fucking patience. maybe i’m back. maybe i’m not. based off of the song love galore by sza but not rlly 🫶 also wtf we are at 800 followers?? thank you???!!!! also, i surived nnn ;)

this was supposed to be a relaxed evening for you, visiting the charity event in Gwangju just to look at some cute animals and donating for a good cause.

it was supposed to be a few hours that you didn’t spend moping about in your apartment after breaking up with someone who you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

well, the word ‘suppose’ doesn’t even cross your mind at the moment.

how could it, when his hands grab at your hips, his lips parted in a groan? when his mouth says your name so beautifully?

you’d not noticed seungcheol at first. not until you were on your knees stroking a moody ginger cat when suddenly someone’s fingers brushed against your own.

at first glance, you wanted to cuss him out. scream, yell, clock him in the jaw, commit arson– every crime under the sun.

but all you could do was helplessly moan like a desperate whore.

seungcheol hastily led you to his car, mouth melding with yours, opening the back door and practically throwing you inside. he tasted like mint and a hint of coffee. just the taste you liked.

nothing about the moment is soft. all that can be heard is his groans, your soft breaths and the lewd dance of your tongues.

“take your pants off,” seungcheol heaves, sitting upright in the backseat as he tugs you into his lap. one of his hands pushes his hair back, eyes dark as he scrutinizes you.

you follow his orders without batting an eye, unbuttoning your jeans with much difficulty in the cramped space and sliding them off.

seungcheol yanks your tank top down, spitting on your nipple as he spares it a lick. “missed you,” he mumbled, teething on your peak as if you hadn’t lost all train of thought the second his lips had met yours.

“missed you, missed these gorgeous tits, and of course, this needy pussy,” his fingers slide between your legs, prodding at your folds. “she’s still mine, right? or did you find someone else?”

you shake your head with a whine when his fingers enter you, feeling your tight walls contract around him. with the pad of his thumb on your engorged clit, seungcheol thrusts his fingers in, a pace that has your mind fogging.

“c-cheollie,” you hiccup, but he shushes you with a bite on your left nipple. “shush baby, just enjoy it,” his words are hoarse, as his tongue lavs over and over your perky mounds.

you can feel the impending telltale of your orgasm the second his fingers curl and they hit that spot inside of you. seungcheol feels a gush of arousal from you, not letting you cum, but just about there to silently remove his fingers and suck them into his mouth.

his cock replaces his fingers, and you just about lose the air from your lungs. no matter how many times you’ve had sex with him, it always feels like the first.

the fat tip pushes past your folds, slowly sinking you down on him. he hisses at the contact. “still so tight f’me... you’ve been a good girl, haven’t you? didn’t let anyone touch what’s mine, hm?”

he knows he’s blabbering, but when he notices the tears spring up to your eyes, seungcheol’s fingers, slightly wet from his saliva wipe them away.

“it’s okay, baby. i love you. i still do.”

you lean into his touch, relishing in the soft moment inside the steamy car when the bastard ruins it.

seungcheol bottoms out inside you, eliciting a moan that sounds so pornographic, you wonder why you’ve not switched careers yet.

the one thrust is enough for you to grab onto his shoulders, lips crashing against his with the power of a sea storm as you begin to ride him.

your tongue swirls with his, squelching noises coming from down below as he meets your thrusts halfway, hands planted on your hips. he sets the pace, your ass bouncing on his thighs, a noise that he has thoroughly yearned for.

“such a good little slut for me,” he whispers against your lips as you lean back, tits bouncing in his face as your thighs start to ache.

but you couldn’t care. not now anyway.

“so big inside me cheol... filling me up all the way,” you moan, eyes rolling as your lower stomach tightens slightly.

the stretch of his cock is too much, splitting your pussy into two in the best way possible. you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, twitching inside you as you praise his size. god, the man’s ego was almost as huge as his dick.

“gonna make me cum like that, baby,” seungcheol whispers, one of his hands leaving your hips to come up and squeeze your mounds. “want me to pull out?” he asks, flicking your nipple with a finger.

“fuck– hah! yes, pull out, pull out!”

with one last thrust and impeccable timing, you feel yourself cum, as he pulls out and releases all over your stomach. the white paints your skin and manages to land a few specks on your tank top.

seungcheol’s breathing is unsteady, as is yours. the sex induced fog seems to fade slightly, as you come down from the incredible high you’ve just experienced.

“stop looking like you regret this, y/n. i know you wanna come back to my place,” seungcheol pushes a strand of damp hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the sweaty skin of your jaw.

the moment is soft, a rare gem among the monstrous haze that the demon of lust had bestowed upon the two of you.

“what do you think, baby? wanna fuck on the couch like usual?”

oh, how you could you refuse that offer?

© nachojaehyun, 2024

[cheolaholic]

SNEAK PEEK 👀 RoL (09)

a/n; small little peek of the upcoming chapter !! read it now on my patreon, or you can wait til tomorrow~ ヾ(•ω•`)o

Mingyu and Wonwoo leaned against the former’s black 2022 Genesis G90. You were working your night shift and the group, excluding Seungcheol, have taken it amongst themselves to be your personal bodyguards. They’d drive you home if you’d work the night shift, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe and not having anyone trailing you.

“Any luck in finding out who this creep could be?” Mingyu asks, looking into the windows of the cafe and returns the small wave you gave him.

“So far, zero,” the older replies, “Whoever this creep is, they’re good at covering their tracks or not being caught.”

“Do you think they’re from our university?”

“Given the location of this cafe, I’d say yes. But, we also have to factor in the dodginess of her residential area.”

“Do you think we’d catch this guy? I honestly hate seeing ___ getting so worked up over this…”

“We just need more time.”

Lost in their conversation, the two men failed to notice you picking up a box on one of the cafe tables. There was a printed paper stuck on it, stating that it was a little gift addressed to you. You thought it was cute, a customer having a crush on their barista like in the movies or books you’ve read. But, when you opened it – it was far from a romantic gesture. Mingyu noticed you frozen in place, a look of fear on your face as you stared into the box in your hand.

Nudging Wonwoo, they entered the cafe and approached you to ask what was wrong. When the older male peeks into the box, he immediately grabs it to set it aside. “Do you remember who sat here?” he asks.

You shook your head. It had been a busy day and with the amount of customers coming in and out, the crowd just blended in together; and why would you remember the face of a random stranger?

Mingyu continues to comfort you as the older begin to examine the contents of the box – several pictures of you around campus and in the cafe were printed out, alongside a pair of… men’s underwear. ‘With men like these existing, it’s no wonder why women choose bears,’ he thinks to himself, remembering the hot internet debate a few months prior.

“Do you still want to go home?” he asks as closes the box, “I’ll hold onto these until we catch the bastard.”

When you shake your head, they suggest you stay over at their place for the time being. “Are you sure? I mean, that’s nice of you both to offer me that, but I don’t want to –”

“Mingyu hasn’t been bringing girls in since hell week of his semester started,” Wonwoo adds, allowing you to resume your closing shift, “He’s cleared up his schedule too, so you’re safe from hearing two or more models having sex.”

“And, what about you?” you questioned, “I remember Cheollie mentioning you both had a threesome before.”

The man only shrugs, “Only if I feel like it. I’m either studying, gaming or streaming the majority of the time.”

“Well… If it’s safer, then I suppose I’ll take you both up on that offer. But, I don’t have any spare clothes… Should I head back home to get them?”

Mingyu mentions some of the models he slept with left their undergarments and several clothes behind. “Some of them could be your size, plus you can keep them too!”

“Wouldn’t they want them back?”

“Nah, a lot of it has been sitting in my closet for years now.”

“And, they’re loaded – they could just buy another one.”

[svtiddiess]

Nom Nom

Synopsis: After what seems like years of asking, your boyfriend has finally allowed you to bite his tiddies.

Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader

Genre: suggestive, mini-series, established relationship

Rating: suggestive/mature

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: biting, marking, nipple play, dry humping, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This is kind of a continuation of the boyfriend texts post, but it's not really necessary to read it! It will help with some context though!

Thank you so much to @seokgyuu for beta reading!

Tagging @brownsugarbaybee as usual!

This feels very on-brand for me.

This is part of a series, read the whole series here!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You giggle to yourself as you enter your shared apartment. You can't believe Seungcheol actually agreed to it; after what seems like months of asking, he's finally agreed to let you bite his tiddies. Although you had to admit you were only joking when you asked him those 500 or so times, you were actually kind of excited to finally have this opportunity.

As you enter the living room, you find Seungcheol seated on the couch in an oversized hoodie with a pout plastered on his face. You look at him quizzically as you approach him.

"I thought I asked you to be prepped and ready on the bed," you huff, half-joking with him.

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his pout somehow deepening. "You were actually serious about that?" he asks, exasperated.

"Of course I was serious," you scoff. "When am I ever not serious?"

"Pretty much all the time," he huffs. You let out a small "hey" and playfully hit his shoulder.

"Now stop dilly-dallying and go lie down on the bed," you demand, crossing your arms. He lets out a whine and wraps his arms around your torso, snuggling his face into your abdomen.

"Princess," he whines, then looks up at you with puppy eyes. "Please don't do this to me," he pleads.

"Nope, not happening. No amount of whining and pouting is getting you out of this Cheollie. It's too late now. You already agreed to it," you look down at him and grin. He groans and hides his face in your abdomen.

"Now chop chop. Or else no kisses for a week," you state. His head jerks up, and his eyes widen.

"No kisses for a week?!" He exclaims.

"Princess, you can't do this to me!" He complains.

"I can and I will," you huff. "Now hurry up!"

With a final grumble, he reluctantly lets go of you and stands up.

"Please let Cheollie go," he pouts and cups your face.

"Cheollie is about to get his ass whooped if he doesn't get on the bed within the next five seconds," you sarcastically grin.

Shoulders slumping at his last ditch effort, he makes his way to the bedroom with you closely following behind.

He sits on the bed, fidgeting with his fingers while staring at the floor. You giggle at how shy he seems.

"Well, what're you waiting for? Strip," you smirk.

He looks at you with a pout, a blush dusting his cheeks as he slowly reaches for the hem of his hoodie. He slowly pulls off his hoodie and quickly covers his chest with his arms, causing you to laugh. Your boyfriend, who was usually dominant in bed, is now acting like a shy virgin; you can't help but laugh at his actions.

"Stop laughing," he whines, blushing harder.

"I can't help it," you giggle. "You're acting like I've never seen you naked before."

"Well, it feels weird, okay?" He grumbles with a pout.

You can't help but coo at him. You move to straddle his lap and cup his blushing face.

"I promise I'll be gentle. You can ask me to stop anytime," you whisper. You lean in to gently kiss him as reassurance that you won't do anything he's uncomfortable with.

"Now, lean against the headboard," you murmur. You get off his lap to allow him to lean against the headboard and get comfortable.

Once he's comfortable, you straddle his waist and start leaving wet kisses along his jaw, helping him relax. You smile to yourself when you feel him slowly relax under you.

Slowly making your way to his lips, you capture them into a passionate kiss, moaning at the feeling of his tongue against yours. You lightly grind against him, causing him to groan into your mouth.

You pull away from him, both of you panting. He looks incredible beneath you, his eyes dazed, lips swollen, and breathless. You shift to leave kisses down his neck, your teeth grazing against his skin.

You hear his breath hitch when you reach his chest. They feel so firm beneath you that you can’t resist moving your hands to squeeze them.

"Princess," he groans.

"God, I love how firm your chest feels," you whine, squeezing him harder.

You lean down to lick one of his nipples, causing him to shut his eyes and moan out loud.

"F-Fuck princess," he groans as you start sucking on the bud.

He throws his head back and shuts his eyes when he feels your teeth lightly digging into his skin. You start sucking on the bud, causing him to let out a string of curses. After finishing marking the bud, you move on to the other one, giving it equal attention. He lets out a loud groan when you pinch his puffed-up nipple. You feel his bulge growing as he ruts against you.

"Feel good Cheollie?" You purr after sitting up to look at him.

"Feels so good princess," he moans, eyes screwed shut.

You grin, then lean down to start marking his chest. He lets out a long groan and arches his back. Small pants and moans escape his lips as your marks get deeper and rougher. Blotches of red and purple slowly bloom across his chest, painting it with your mark. His hips jerk up, and a whimper escapes his lips when you bite down particularly hard.

Enjoying his reactions, you continue to abuse his chest, savouring every moment. You lean back to take a minute and cherish your work. You beam when you see his chest covered in bruises, bites, and saliva.

"Look at me Cheollie," you purr. He opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes blown out and a fucked out expression on his face.

"Are you alright baby?" You murmur, caressing his flushed cheeks. He nods breathlessly, the corner of his lips lifting up into a fucked out smile.

Just then, an idea strikes you, and you smirk before leaning in close to his ear.

"I'm going to mark you with my initials," you purr. "After all, an artist has to sign their painting to show who it belongs to, right baby?" You giggle. You feel his dick twitch at your words.

"You like that Cheollie? You like being marked by me?" You smirk. He lets out a soft whimper and grinds against you, causing you to let out a giggle.

"I am an artist, and you are my canvas baby," you whisper before shifting back to his chest.

You lean down and begin biting and sucking the skin, marking your initials into his left chest cause it's closer to his heart, making sure they take up most of the space. You have to show him and everyone else who belongs in his heart, of course. You hear him moan and groan under you, his hands on your hips to keep you steady. After embedding your initials into his skin, you sit up and admire your handiwork.

You look down and pout, still unsatisfied with your work, feeling like something was missing. That's when it hits you; you giggle as you lean back down to encapsulate your initials with a heart.

"Princess, what—" his question is abruptly cut off by a moan as you bite down harder than usual, silently asking him to simply let you do what you want.

You sit up after finishing the heart, finally satisfied with your work.

"So pretty Cheollie," you purr as you gently trace your fingers across your artwork. "I need to take a picture."

"A picture?" he asks, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

"Of course! I need to forever encapsulate my masterpiece after all," you giggle. You shift to reach for your phone on the side table, causing him to groan.

"Princess, you're killing me here," he mutters.

"Hush! I'm busy taking pretty pictures of my pretty man," you grin as you proceed to take multiple pictures of him.

Your words make him blush, and you squeal, thrilled that the pictures are turning out even better than you expected. He looks so pretty with your mark on him, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes dazed. You're definitely going to use them as your wallpaper for a while.

"Enough," he growls, snatching your phone and tossing it back onto the table. You let out a gasp when he suddenly flips you over, him now on top of you.

"I've let you have your fun, but now it's my turn."