Archive of Our Own

In truth, Kim Dokja knew that how she looked mattered little to Yoo Joonghyuk. 

The brute (who she called as such in equal parts affection and exasperation) was always seconds away from spreading her out on the nearest surface and eating her alive. Even when she woke up with bags under her eyes and bird’s nest hair, trying to brush her teeth while having to deal with her absolute fucking unit of a husband being all over her. 

(“I still have morning breath, at least let me finish brushing, you sunfish bas—!” 

But all she got was a sharp nip to the junction between her neck and shoulder as hot, calloused hands pressed her flush against him. Even through her ratty pajamas, a cartoon cloud set that had been a gag gift from Han Sooyoung, Dokja could feel the heat radiating off a shirtless Joonghyuk. 

“I want you like this all the time.” The gravel in his voice made her shiver as a kiss fluttered against her cheek. “What does it matter when I have you?” 

She felt him rest his forehead against hers as she took in the scent of sandalwood after a rainfall, her only warning a hot sigh before his lips met hers. 

“My reader. My Dokja.”)

Still, it was their first wedding anniversary. She wanted to show him how much being married meant to her and what better way than to wrap herself up as his present? But now, standing nude in front of the mirror, she didn’t know what to think of her ridiculous impulse purchase, frowning at the choker in her hands.

Dokja had to admit it was gorgeous, matching the thigh high stockings and garters she had planned on wearing. Delicate pearlescent lace with a ribbon of silk running through it, wrapping around her neck like a second skin, so thin and translucent that it felt like she wasn’t wearing anything. In the centre was a beautiful white opal framed by intricate silver wings and another opal dangled from it. An ethereal thing much like her wedding dress had been, but she still cast a doubtful look at her hands (slender and unbroken, blunt nails painted an iridescent silver-white for tonight) before putting it on. 

Mirrors weren’t always kind to Kim Dokja. 

There were days she dreaded looking in the mirror, paralyzed at the thought of seeing herself frozen at fifteen. Gaunt with deathly pallor, hair haphazard and cruelly hacked off. Nothing but bruises and bandages and dull eyes that saw no future. Nothing but an ugly reality she couldn’t escape from.

So even though Dokja was constantly spoiled with entire wardrobes (monochrome whites, greys, and silvers from Hades and sprinkles of springtime colours from Persephone) and had developed her own sense of style thanks to shopping with Yoo Sangah, Jung Heewon, and Lee Seolhwa. Even though she had slowly gained weight over the years, nourished from Yoo Joonghyuk’s cooking and a healthier work schedule as Han Sooyoung’s editor. 

Nothing had changed after getting married. 

(She was still the same old Kim Dokja.)  

But now she stood stunned at the sight in the mirror. Soft skin glimmered peach and pale gold as if lit by the sunrise, her lithe figure budding with subtle, yet full curves. Ink black hair fell to the slim curve of her waist, as dark as the dots forming constellations across her collarbone and thick, sooty lashes framed agate grey eyes, shining like the galaxy. She vaguely realized that they matched the earrings she had worn, tiny silver stars that glimmered in the low light. 

While Dokja’s looks were thankfully more Lee than Kim, willowy and fine boned with legs for days, deceptively plain with a gracefulness that made people snap to attention, she didn’t share many features with her mother save for her grey eyes and the stubborn point of her chin. Instead, Dokja was a carbon copy of a woman she only recalled seeing in worn black-and-white photos (a prim beauty with her hair in a chignon, dainty and ballerina like, her white gauze jeogori contrasting with an exquisitely detailed chima, proof of her trade as an embroiderer) hidden between the yellowed pages of Lee Sookyung’s old college novels.

Her Grandmother Lee.

Seo Hyesung had passed away when Dokja was barely a year old, leaving her collection of watercolour and ink illustrated story books, painstakingly handbound and handwritten, and the hanboks she embroidered to her only granddaughter. Including the floaty white and pearl grey hanboks Dokja and Joonghyuk had gotten married in, side by side in their wedding photos. 

(The universe must have been laughing at her whenever she saw her grandfather in old wedding photos, impossibly tall and broad shouldered, every inch the former military general with stern, scowling features softened by the joy radiating from his eyes whenever he was next to her grandmother. Lee Donghyun was proof that being attracted to people with resting bitch faces ran in the family.)

There in the mirror was halmi’s slim oval face with her expressive dark brows and long, classic nose that looked like they belonged in a painting. Delicate cheekbones and a full bow shaped mouth with Seo Hyesung’s grey eyes as the final touch, glimmering like constellations that had been plucked from a velvet night sky to be passed down through the Lee family line. The same ones Lee Sookyung had, the same ones that Dokja’s children would inherit as well.

At least, she hoped they would. 

(The Lee genes had a funny way of taking over every family line they had been introduced to—Kim donor and family included, thank fuck, but the Yoo genes were just as overpowered. Yoo Joonghyuk and Yoo Mia were proof of that.) 

Her face was bare as halmi’s face had been in the photos as Dokja didn’t trust her hands not to shake during any attempt at makeup. Instead, a lovely blush made her cheeks glow and her lips were red and ruined from anxiously biting them all day, lush as ripe cherries. 

And the choker just tied her reflection together. 

The lace was luxurious against her bare skin, bringing out its rosy undertones and the dangling opal nestled in the hollow of her throat, framing the dainty curves of her shoulders and breasts. For all that she grumbled about her husband having a bigger chest than hers, they were still full and plump, enough to spill from her hands as she reached up to cup them. 

(And they were more than a perfect handful for Joonghyuk.)

Dusky nipples hardened under her teasing touch, her head tipping back as a mewl caught in her throat. Dokja had always been sensitive, something that Joonghyuk loved to exploit with his clever hands and wicked mouth. But there was something almost spellbinding in the quiet moments where she would soothe the ache between her legs, rocking against a pillow or her own fingers without his consuming gaze on her. Soft pants filled the room as curious hands explored the dips and hollows of her figure, shivering at the sensation of her fingertips trailing over silk soft skin. Dokja bit her lip as a thrill ran through her, her mind soon full of Yoo Joonghyuk. 

Protagonist, life and death companion, husband—and oh, she still couldn’t completely believe that he was hers, plain mousy little Dokja’s with her quicksilver tongue and her nose in her books even after all this time. Full of the thought of him catching her gaze in the mirror in the midst of fingering herself desperately. A spark of molten obsidian, the faintest dimple in his right cheek while the dimple in the other deepened as he sank to his bruised knees. His warm tongue lapping up every drop of her release before sinking into her, worshipping her as if she was salvation itself until their images melded together as one, coming undone simply at the sight of her touching herself like this. 

In this rare moment of indulgence, Dokja could believe that she was worth looking at. 

A hand slipped down past her stomach to the soft thatch of curls between her thighs, tracing her folds and soothing her aching clit, her touch growing bolder as her eyes fell shut. She could hear the little croons and moans spilling from her throat, her chest rising and falling as slick sounds rang through the room. Her cheeks burned hot, whether from embarrassment or pleasure she didn’t know, but it was as irresistible as siren’s song, drawing her in until she was on the cusp of drowning in sweet bliss.

Suddenly, hot scarred hands closed over hers, pulling her flush against a very hard, very familiar body and her senses were flooded with the scent of dark leather and the cool evening wind. Her eyes snapped open to find Yoo Joonghyuk, pitch black eyes glowing hungrily as they met hers in the mirror. 

Hah?

When the fuck did he get home?!

“Kim Dokja.” 

Her husband let out a predatory chuckle, warm air ghosting over her bare skin. She forgot to breathe at the possessiveness bleeding through the husky baritone of his voice. 

“Was this supposed to be my welcome home?”

Kim Dokja was a fool. 

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know how she didn’t hear him come in, dropping his bags in shock at the sight of his wife in front of the mirror. The little minx was naked, save for a blush flooding her face and the faint glimmer of a tattoo inked into the small of her back, one that could only be seen up close and personal, but what topped it all off was the merest scrap of soft white lace around her pretty neck. A strangled sound punched out of his throat at the sight, too single minded to register how painfully hard he was, straining against his jeans. 

Frankly, he didn’t know how Dokja still managed to convince herself that she wasn’t attractive, no matter how many times he had fucked it into her. 

(“I’m married to you, you fool.”

“Your sister literally calls me squid ahjumma though?”

“...that’s how we show our affection.”)

Not that it stopped him from reminding her over and over again.

It brought back memories of Dokja looking every inch a blushing bride in her wedding night lingerie. Translucent moonlight lace slipping down elegant little shoulders, the play of soft light showing the merest shadowy glimpse of dark nipples straining against the sheer fabric and the soft thatch of curls between her legs, her face bare save for lips painted a glossy cherry red. Joonghyuk muffled a groan against his knuckles, remembering how he had bitten her lips and smeared her lipstick, nipping and sucking at her through the soaked lace before he had torn it off. 

But now she was bare before him, blissfully unaware of the world around her, sighs and moans falling from her lips as she touched herself, the slit nestled between her thighs slick with arousal, begging for his mouth. Dokja was breathtaking, a ripe peach just waiting to be plucked and it wasn’t fair. How could Joonghyuk simply watch his wife feeling beautiful in her skin on their anniversary and not join her?

He needed to take her right there against the mirror, pin her against the glass and make a mess of her, his body thrumming with the urge to hold her on the edge by the throat before filling her up again and again, breeding her to his heart’s content until she was round with child the way he had fantasized about ever since they got engaged. 

(His ears reddened, still not ready to admit that he’d had those thoughts long before they started dating, back on the bridge the night a scrappy Dokja grinned up at him, bright and knifelike. The wind sweeping her hair away from her face, a foolhardy reader speaking of swords and tongues as her eyes revealed the universe.) 

Joonghyuk was dead quiet, his jacket hitting the floor as he prowled towards her, unblinking eyes drinking in the sight before him. Dokja’s eyes had fallen shut as she fondled herself, whimpering as she squeezed a tender breast, slim fingers rubbing her clit furiously. He caught sight of those lovely fingers trailing lower and lower as she teased the furl of her entrance, the sound slick and squelching, seconds away from slipping themselves inside her and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

He grabbed her by the waist, so tiny that his hands met in the middle, breathing in the scent of crisp book pages and cherry soap as he pulled her flush against him. A scarred hand closed over the hand cupping her breast as the other slid down, heated fingers brushing over her soaked slit, coating them in the mess she had made of herself. 

“Miss me?” Joonghyuk smirked against the shell of her ear as Dokja arched against him. There was a part of him that savoured how the woman infamous for her cunning tongue was now speechless, shocked mewls spilling from her throat as she melted into his embrace.

Kim Dokja was indeed a fool. 

But she was Yoo Joonghyuk’s fool after all.

Dokja’s head fell back against his shoulder with a gasp, eyes falling closed as her bare back pressed against his front. She felt his breath hitch as his fingers traced against her heated skin, slow and teasing, deliberate in the way he smeared kisses down the lace around her neck. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of what she must have looked like when Joonghyuk walked in on her, shameless in her nakedness, tantalizingly within his reach. 

He could feel her shrink, shying away as an embarrassed whine fell from her lips. A dark flush flooded the apples of her cheeks, spilling down her clavicle to the tops of her breasts in a way that shone even in the soft shadows of their bedroom. It made Joonghyuk laugh, bright and full, wanting to chase after the pretty colour with his mouth, wondering how she could be so adorable and beautifully lush in one contradicting package. 

“Dokja,” he breathed, his voice rough with need as his nose nudged against her burning cheek. “Don’t hide. Open your eyes.” 

Luminous eyes slowly blinked open, meeting his rapturous gaze in their reflection. She could only watch as he traced her collarbone before slipping down to cup the swell of her breast, savouring the warm weight of it as his lips brushed against the curve of her shoulder.

A shaky mewl escaped as he forged a path of heady kisses up her neck, his lips curving into a smirk as clever fingers traced around a nipple, playing her like a fiddle in the way he made her arch to meet him. Dokja squirmed as a hand pressed against the curve of her stomach, hot and insistent, forcing her to mold herself against him even further. She cursed her traitorous body as she bucked back against him, desperately seeking the heat radiating through the fabric separating them as he rolled against her in slow, deliberate circles. 

It wasn’t long before she was reduced to begging as she clawed at his clothes, the rasp and roughness of cotton and leather against where she was bare and soft making her tingle, aching for him to strip so she could feel him skin to skin. 

“Joonghyuk,” she groaned, a thrill running through her as he caught an earring between his teeth and tugged at it. Teasing fingers swirled roughly over her clit, shaking and sighing over the delightful friction, but it did little to relieve the ache in her core. 

“Clothes off. Now.”

She keened as bold fingers suddenly pressed deep inside her, right against the spot that never failed to make her flutter around him.

“Not yet.” 

He buried his face against her neck, kissing and biting where the lace of the choker met her skin, groaning as he lapped at the marks he left behind. A squeak escaped Dokja as he pinched a nipple, hard enough for a shock to run through her as she spasmed around his fingers.

“S-stupid sunfish.” Her nails sunk into his forearms through his shirt, but Joonghyuk barely flinched, nipping at her jaw as he shamelessly groped a plush thigh in revenge. “You’re so unfair.” 

Dead silence filled the room for a split second, suspenseful and perilous before a snarl rang out. 

“Fair?”

Dokja yelped as she was suddenly turned around, her back pinned against the mirror as cruel, relentless fingers drove into where she’d become wet anew, over and over as he bit her earlobe, a groan reverberating through her. 

“Let me tell you what isn’t fair, Dokja.” 

He didn’t want to pull away as her hands tangled through his disheveled hair, tearing off his clothes in his haste as he smothered every inch of bare skin he could reach with feverish kisses.

“You looking like this,” he nipped at her throat through the lace, his fingers reverently splayed against her collarbone as if framing the choker. “With no idea how fucking crazy you drive me.”

Joonghyuk crushed her lips against his in a dizzying kiss, swallowing every moan and cry as he crowded her against the cool glass, his bare skin burning hot against her. Torrid kisses trailed down her neck, the curve of his smile against her rapid heartbeat made her arch up into his touch. A spike of pleasure ran through Dokja, sighing as trembling hands fondled her breasts and Joonghyuk couldn’t resist the urge to bury his face in them, lavishing them with hot, open mouthed kisses. Her grip on him tightened, yanking his hair as he panted harshly against petal soft skin before taking her breasts in his mouth, nipping and suckling with a desperate need to mark her up. 

Dokja moaned, eyes falling closed and lips parting as she arched further into his mouth. She thought she might have come just from her husband biting her nipples, but she couldn’t tell for sure. Not with how he teased at her fluttering folds, liquid pooling in Joonghyuk’s hand and dripping down his wrist as pleasure overwhelmed her, sensation melding together until everything felt like one continuous crescendo. Dokja and Joonghyuk were two unstoppable forces colliding, orbiting and crashing against each other again and again until one of them gave way. This time it was him giving one last kiss, hungry and desperate before turning her to face her reflection again. 

“Don’t look away, Dokja-yah.” 

He had her right where he wanted her, pliant and trapped between his bare self and the glass, unable to do anything but hold herself up against the mirror frame. He kissed the shell of her ear, feeling her breath hitch as his hand slipped between her thighs. Deft fingers plunged into silken wet heat as his teeth tugged at the lace around her neck, grinding the heel of his palm against her clit as he made her ride his fingers. The desperate way she arched against him was nothing short of divine and he could barely breathe at the sight of them in the mirror. 

Joonghyuk longed to taste her on his tongue, to bury himself in her and fill her up. He wanted to drink every sigh and moan from her lips until all that was left was his name, Dokja gasping it like it was the only thing she knew. But now he wanted her to watch as he made her cry, cradling her close as she panted against his ear, begging for him to let her come. He nuzzled against the soft patch of skin behind her ear, a tender contrast to the ruthless way his fingers fucked her, curling deep inside her with every tremble and liquid clench. 

“Tell me,” he breathed, no other words needed between them. 

A shuddering gasp left Dokja at the sound of his voice. Joonghyuk had always had a deep voice, raspy and commanding, but now it had a darker, more velvety quality to it. Almost menacing if it weren’t for the naked longing in his eyes begging for her permission. Hooded starfilled eyes couldn’t look away from the picture they painted in the mirror. Kisses fluttering against where the lace of the choker met her heated skin, her hips arching into his fingers as they pumped into her, deeper and deeper. 

And his eyes. 

Hungry and blown out, darker than a night without stars as they met hers in the mirror, never feeling more exposed.

Dokja licked her lips, swallowing thickly before breathing, “On your knees.” 

Warm lips pressed a kiss to the delicate nape of her neck with an aching intensity that she only read about in shitty rofan novels. She felt more than she heard him murmur a good girl between her shoulder blades, smiling at the way her heartbeat stuttered before mouthing his way down her spine. Lower and lower as anticipation fluttered through her, the sound of breathless panting filling the room as Joonghyuk sank to his knees. His mouth was now inches away from the dangerously low dip of her back, a breathless chuckle fanning over her skin as his thumb smoothed over the hangul tattoo done in fine silver ink.

인연 — in yun.

Providence and fate, all 1864 layers of it between Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk. His wife’s proof that she had made it through everything and survived, had allowed herself to be loved, right there in the swift strokes of her own handwriting. He feathered a kiss just below it and Dokja could only hold onto the mirror frame, a frustrated groan leaving her as broad, strong hands hooked around her thighs, spreading them open to expose her centre, slick and vulnerable. 

“I can taste you here,” he murmured, his tongue darting out to chase after the slick dripping down her inner thigh. “So wet for me.”

He took his time, content with mouthing at the pulsing heat between her folds as he held her hips still, driving her crazy as he brought his tongue to a point to dive deeper into her. His eyes fell closed with a tortured moan, savouring the taste of her as she quivered against his tongue, creamy and soft and molten. 

(For such a picky eater, he never passed up the opportunity to eat her out.)

“Joonghyuuuk,” she trailed into a whine, accidentally smushing her cheek against the glass before glaring down at him in the mirror. “Get. On. With. It.”

“You already have me where you want me.” Dokja could feel that infuriating smirk against her skin, the vibration from his laugh so tantalizingly close to where she needed him the most. “So impatient.”

“And you—”

Dokja bit her lip as she swallowed back a gasp, so wet that she could hear little more than a deafening schlik as her husband’s calloused fingers spread her open. She wished that she trusted herself not to fall long enough to reach back, fist her hands through his curls and put that snarky mouth to better use. 

“You’re just begging for a divorce.” 

The threat on her tongue (“I should just save myself the trouble and ride your face next time”) turned into a squeak as Joonghyuk buried his face between her thighs with single minded ferocity, feasting on her as if he would never get another chance if he didn’t get his mouth on her now. He was relentless in his pursuit, making the most obscene noises as he licked up her glistening folds, swirling his tongue around the little pearl peeking out before sucking on it gently. Hot lips lavished heady kisses, murmuring filthy promises against her soaked core before driving himself deeper, fucking her with his tongue. 

Dokja chased after him, her hips rolling back for more of that clever mouth, Joonghyuk laving his tongue over her as liquid warmth coiled tighter and tighter until it threatened to snap. She wasn’t far off, not with how her toes curled and her back arched sharply as her trembling arms held herself up against the mirror frame for dear life, little ah ah ahs spilling from her throat. 

And finally, finally, a strangled cry escaped her, her knuckles turning white as she fell apart, the glass cool against her overheating skin. Joonghyuk took it all as she spilled against his tongue, soothing her with slow swathes and moaning against her swollen folds, finally pulling away to press a wet, messy kiss to the inside of her thigh. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned, his voice low and rough before suckling a new bruise against her skin. He swallowed thickly as he licked his lips, slick with the lingering tang of rich, melting cream and the sharpness of cherries. He could barely breathe, eyes mere pinpricks with how blown out they were, his knees starting to bruise and wetness dripping down his chin and he wanted more. 

Dokja was perfect, trembling and wet and warm as he dove back in, his tongue swirling over her where she was hottest as questing fingers dove in, brushing against the little spongy spot deep inside her in steady circles. The simmering pleasure crested higher and higher as Joonghyuk slowly built her back up and she rocked back against him for more, a quaver in her voice as she felt him groan against her in fervent ardor. 

“Joonghyuk, Joonghyuk,” Dokja moaned and cried as she clenched around his tongue, teetering so close to the edge that she feared she might pass out. 

She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know what her husband saw; white lace standing out against the love bites littering her neck and shoulders, cherry ripe lips parted in an o, her thighs quaking and threatening to crush Joonghyuk’s head were it not for his vice grip on them, so painfully aroused that she was dripping down her thighs. 

“’s too much, I can’t—I can’t—”

“One more,” he begged as he broke away with a gasp, wild eyed and desperate. He could barely speak, the sight of her on the cusp of an orgasm threatening to close his throat like a divine revelation. 

“One more for me, Dokja.”

Without warning, Joonghyuk latched around her painfully swollen clit and sucked hard. 

And Dokja screamed. 

She was helpless as she thrashed above him, her hips jerking once, twice, three times before she came crashing down in a full body orgasm. Moaning and sobbing filled the room, his name a fervent prayer on her lips as she surrendered herself to him, white-hot heat surging through her like rolling waves crashing against the shore again and again. She could only be lost in how messy and wet and wonderful everything felt, sinking into a weightless cloudy dreaminess with only a sated shaking sigh, the gentle glow as warm as sunlight. 

They were both on the floor, Dokja sprawled in Joonghyuk’s lap with his arms wrapped around her as she fluttered back to consciousness, giggling as butterfly kisses rained up her neck and jaw, vaguely realizing that she must have been crying with how gentle fingers brushed against her cheeks. She blinked, eyes dreamy and half lidded as calloused fingertips traced the curve of her lower lip, and there he was.

His hair was soaked, falling in waves over his forehead as a bead of sweat rolled down his heaving chest, the cool silver of his barbell nipple piercings faintly gleaming in the light. His frame was big and broad, steely strength with a meltingly soft core and a deep flush coloured his sharp features and scarred golden skin, as if marble lovingly sculpted over time had breathed itself to life.

Dokja was no author, no matter how much Han Sooyoung tried to convince her otherwise, but thoughts of Joonghyuk’s devastating beauty ran through her head at the dimpled, boyish smile he gave as he cupped her face with gentle hands, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss. 

It was an I’m home, unspoken and clear. 

“You ruined my surprise,” Dokja grumbled, though there was no heat in her voice as she nipped at Joonghyuk’s lips. She grabbed his face, drawing his lower lip between her teeth and sucking on it, shivering at the slick taste of herself still on his tongue as he sighed against her mouth. 

(Sometimes she thought that Joonghyuk would die happy being smothered by her as she sat on his face, the way he would yank her down to his mouth with a snarl and a feral glint in his eyes before fucking her with his tongue. And even though she’d adamantly deny it, the fact that she accidentally proposed in the middle of riding his face might have had something to do with it.)

A frisson of heat lanced through her, slick folds grinding against his length with each roll of her hips, over and over until she was soaked. She relished the way that his breathing grew ragged, his cock nestling against the heat of her core, but he gave as good as he got. Her breasts were crushed against the broad planes of his chest as he molded her against him, lavishing Dokja’s cherry bitten lips and throat with heated kisses. 

“I didn’t even get to wear the rest of the lingerie,” she panted, his hand snaking up to fondle a breast. “It’s a miracle the lace didn’t tear, you brute and stop smirking!”

A low, throaty laugh escaped Joonghyuk at the glare she shot him, more bedraggled cat than demon king.

“My mistake.” Her husband grinned against her lips, eyes curving into crescents as they lit up with a rare spark of mischief. “Let me make it up to you, Dokja.”

They barely made it to the bed, fumbling and the occasional curse escaping even as he effortlessly picked her up (one fucking handed of course, could this man get any more ridiculously OP) and oh, Yoo Joonghyuk was a sight. 

All sinuous strength and scarred skin on blatant display as Dokja pressed him into the mattress, spreading his legs to let her fall between them like a king claiming her throne as she chased after his laughing mouth. A rasping sigh fell from his lips as her hands cupped him, stroking and teasing him until he arched sharply into her touch, flushed and dripping and all for her. The pale sheets highlighted the hard planes of his sculpted figure as he tipped his head back, dark curls tousled against the pillow and his eyes hazy and half lidded. 

It was a rare quiet moment where she saw him unguarded, transfixed by the sight of her as if he was receiving salvation. And it did things to her, having this man’s indomitable presence follow her lead. Dokja felt not fireworks or even sparks. It was warmth and sweetness, overflowing like the yakgwa and jujube tea that she vaguely remembered Lee Sookyung making for her during the rare peaceful winter days of her childhood. 

She marveled at Joonghyuk, her fingers tracing up his sternum and past his chin to caress his lower lip, pressing against the plush curve to feel each shuddering breath that left him. His lips brushed against the pad of her thumb, feathering a brief kiss to it before letting it slip into his mouth. A shaky breath left her at the warm, wet heat and oh, she needed him in her. 

Now. 

Dokja’s eyes sparkled with determination as she straddled him, chest heaving and a pretty flush spreading, gasping and panting as the slick heat of her core slid against him, not yet taking him in. Her hands settled against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with every ragged breath he took, his heartbeat thrumming under her fingertips. Warm hands cradled her hips, unhurried and indulgent as Dokja took her time, leisurely rocking her hips and relishing the hiss she drew from Joonghyuk when she finally let him enter her, clenching around the head of his cock with a hot sigh. 

She wanted to ease herself down, swallow him inch by excruciating inch as she listened to his choked moans. To see her husband strain for control at the feel of creamy soft heat around him, body trembling and lips bitten raw until he finally lost it, burying himself the rest of the way as he clutched her to him, leaving no space between them. 

But she made a fatal mistake. 

(She should’ve known better, really.)

The moment he tipped his chin up to meet her gaze, indolence giving way to dark, raw passion; showing off that stupidly perfect face with brows that looked like they had been drawn in a single, irreversible stroke and those outstanding cheekbones, that slim sultry mouth curving into a slow smile, revealing those distractingly mismatched dimples that had no business looking that adorable. The smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

In that split second, her shaking arms gave up, impaling herself on him entirely. Desperate, gasping little moans punched out of her, overwhelmed at suddenly being filled and— 

“Oh fuck!”

Her vision went white as she collapsed onto his chest, quaking as she spasmed around him over and over again, barely aware of the sudden surging wetness spilling down her thighs. All she could think of was how deep Joonghyuk was buried inside her, whimpering as the heady pulse of his heartbeat made her core ache anew, so impossibly full. Dokja thought she’d be used to it by now after being together for so long, but her husband was huge. 

Rofan male lead, get-you-pregnant-in-one-shot huge. 

It said a lot about Joonghyuk’s self control when strong hands simply cradled her against him, pulsing his hips against hers in languid waves. He nuzzled feather light kisses to her overheated skin, breathing in the scent of sweat and Dokja’s cherry soap as he caressed the place where their bodies met. 

“Beautiful,” he crooned against her lips. She trembled with each unbidden praise that fell from his lips, moaning sweetly as her hips stuttered against his. 

“You feel so good, Dokja. Stretched around my cock like this.” Joonghyuk’s hand fell to caress the supple curve of her stomach, filled to the brim with him. “You’re taking me so well.”

A sudden vision of Dokja beaming as she nestled against the sheets, round and glowing as she lovingly cradled her pregnant belly, of him holding a tiny cotton ball fluff of a baby with cheeks as round and sweet as mochi and a cute button nose, wisps of her father’s wavy hair and her mother’s grey eyes sparkling up at him. His wife’s adorable little mirror, like she had been plucked straight from the horde of old baby photos he had barely managed to pry from Lee Sookyung’s hands like an armored hero facing off against a mother dragon. 

(He was briefly tickled by the thought of Persephone and Lee Sookyung being made to acknowledge the part he had in making an extremely cute granddaughter for them to dote on.) 

Dokja had loved the name Biyoo if she ever had a child of her own and there in the moment, surrounded by quivering heat and the companion he pledged life and death with, Yoo Joonghyuk wanted. He wanted nothing more than to keep them trapped in the moment, binding them together until they couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. To fill her up until she was dripping with him, leaving a piece of himself in the deepest part of her as the pleasure crested until everything dissolved into dust. 

All to create a newborn star. 

A high pitched whine escaped Dokja as she buried her face in his chest, lavishing him with open mouthed kisses over every plush line and curve she could reach. She felt full in a wonderful melting sort of way, like she was nothing but spun sugar in Joonghyuk’s mouth. The taste of salt and silver was sharp on her tongue as her lips closed around a nipple, suckling and tugging at his piercings with every sharp exhale she felt from him. Dokja nipped a path along Joonghyuk’s collarbone before she soothed the marks left behind with her tongue, his rising heartbeat echoing the sound of her breathing. 

Joonghyuk felt like he was losing his mind, at the mercy of his beguiling menace of a wife, muffling a groan as the pressure wound tighter and together. Dokja’s lustrous eyes flashed with mischief as her hands sneaked up, cupping his chest and kneading the smooth expanse of warm, toned muscle before toying with his pierced nipples, sensitive and swollen. The stumbling staccato of his pulse followed her as soft lips skimmed up the column of his throat, the soft curves of her breasts pressing against his chest as she hummed, drawing his Adam’s apple in her mouth and sucking. 

And it felt, it felt like he was about to—

“Oh!” 

Dokja broke away with a startled gasp, her eyes rolling back at the sudden way he swelled inside her, spreading her to her limits. She barely registered Joonghyuk seizing her wrists, his hips bucking against hers as a strangled shout escaped.

It was all so much. 

“Kim Dokja,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his chest heaving as he strained to bite back his release. “Don’t mess around.” 

He looked more beast than man, his self-control hanging on by a fraying thread. The dangerous gleam in his eyes showed nothing but ravenous hunger; how he wanted to ravage her and break through that sly facade, to pin her delectably soft body under him so she couldn’t escape, making her cry and beg for him before he took her, devouring her whole. 

But Kim Dokja never had any self-preservation instinct in the first place. 

“And why can’t I?” 

It wasn’t as if he couldn’t go all night, not when Yoo Joonghyuk had enough stamina to outdo a stallion protagonist. Their wedding night had been a testament of that. 

(Or as Han Sooyoung loved to say, “the single most annoying post coital haze, I had put up with that gross pink bubble aura of yours for three fucking weeks, you rat.”)

The way Dokja grinned at him, eyes alight with mischief despite her breathlessness, spelled nothing but trouble. 

“Thinking of getting me pregnant?” She crooned as she lowered herself, hovering above him as she savoured the debauched sight he made. 

Glistening skin melding under her as he panted harshly, rising and falling and filling her with the mouthwatering urge to sink her teeth into the full curve of his chest. Hooded, lustful black eyes were unblinking and glazed over with dizzying pleasure, a vibrant flush staining his face and chest as his grip on her wrists tightened. 

Dokja leaned in, her teasing mouth a mere whisper away from his own swollen, parted lips. “Husband?”

Joonghyuk snapped.

He seized her face between his hands before she knew it, lips crashing against hers in a greedy, all consuming kiss. Dokja could do little more than hang on for dear life as her hips were caught in a bruising grip, gripping his shoulders as Joonghyuk splayed her shivering form against his broad chest. A slick squelch rang out as he lifted her almost fully off his cock, dangerously close to slipping out completely before slamming her back down, over and over and over. 

Their lips barely brushed together as the pleasure sparked and arced, Dokja panting as she forged a path down his neck, feeling him surge inside her as she nibbled at his pulse point. Heat pooled low in her belly like liquid honey, tasting his heartbeat on her tongue as she drove her hips, aching and littered with bruises, down to meet him. Her thighs quaked as each thrust reverberated through her, hands slipping down to join where Joonghyuk’s fingers were swirling over her clit as he drove into her again and again. 

Harder and deeper and Kim Dokja had never been fucked this good in her life. 

He had to be close to the edge, the way he buried his face against her shoulder with a ragged moan of her name. Dokja wanted to push him to the brink, for him to come again and again to the point where she couldn’t move for days without remembering the feeling of him inside her and she wanted—

She wanted to be bred. 

The realization surged through her like a spark, the electric feeling making her body sing. The thought of her swelling with Joonghyuk’s child, raising an adorable reader (or warrior or explorer, anything and everything their little Biyoo wanted to be) with so much love and care that they would never fear being abandoned. 

Oh, she wished for it.

She wished for a baby so much.

Dokja beared down, trapping him between her thighs as she urged him on. A whimper fell from her lips as her hands cupped her aching breasts, rolling her nipples as she rocked against his hips frantically. Her toes curled as pleasure licked up her spine, feeling every groan leaving Joonghyuk rumble like thunder, his frenzied heartbeat merging with her rabbiting pulse. She hadn’t even realized that she was begging for his touch, desperately crying out for Joonghyuk to fill her up. 

She was just so close, her hand slipping between their bodies to fondle her clit as her sweet spot was struck again and again. 

Almost there—

And then she clenched around nothing. A hollow emptiness left her barely on the precipice. It was only then that she realized that her husband didn’t just pull away. 

Yah, he had the audacity to pull out completely! 

“Yoo. Joong. Hyuk!” Dokja hissed at him, eyes akin to a raging storm cloud as she shot him a deadly, lightning-like glare.

It was one thing to keep edging her, but she literally couldn’t take anymore. And not on their damn anniversary of all days! A deep, dull ache settled low in her stomach, still painfully aroused and unsatisfied, only for the man to simply raise a brow, dimpling as a corner of his mouth curled up. 

Dokja knew that look. 

It was anything but innocent. 

Yoo Joonghyuk loved pleasuring his wife, making her come over and over again until she melted into the sheets, limp and exhausted and so blissfully fucked out. But that devilish glint in his eyes said everything.

This sadistic fucker—

A cry escaped as he sunk into her again with a single swift stroke, the sudden sensation of being spread open so wide, so deep causing her to tear up. 

He loved depriving her even more. 

Ugh, she was so going to get him for this. 

(Handcuffing him to the headboard and covering those glittering jewel-black eyes with a blindfold, denying him the pleasure of eating her out was promising. Being able to hear her ride her fingers and smell her arousal, but not see or taste her no matter how much he begged for her to sit on his face would be sheer torture for him. She couldn’t wait to even the score.) 

Dokja bucked her hips in a weak attempt to get him to move, but Joonghyuk’s hands held her down against him, their hips flush together. He hummed lazily, licking a stripe up the valley of her breasts before sucking hickies onto her neck and collarbone. Calloused fingers caressed her clit as he drank in all the pretty sounds he drew from her until she was little more than a squirming, panting mess. The slick sounds of her bearing down on him were drowned out by his voice as it dropped to a velvet dark purr, his lips barely brushing against the shell of her ear. 

All she could hear was Joonghyuk’s words running together, groaning as she clenched around him with each languid thrust; how gorgeous she was with the delicate lace around her neck as he ground his hips in deep, slow circles. How he needed to buy her choker after choker from silver to pearl to black sapphire, to drape her in their colours so that everyone knew she was his—

A growl ripped from his throat as he bounced her on his cock in merciless strokes, his hands cradling her thighs as he savoured the way her kiss-ruined lips parted beneath his hungry mouth. 

“Joonghyuk—” 

She threw her head back, lips parted in a silent scream as his head dipped down to tease and suckle her breasts, leaving pretty love bites behind. There was little Dokja could do, boneless and sobbing in his arms, her nails digging into his shoulders for purchase, for something to ground her. 

“Hyuk-ah, I can’t take it anymore. I need—I need—”

Dokja planted her face in the crook of his neck, hiding the tears clinging to her lashes like glossy pearls, stubbornly refusing to let them fall. She didn’t know how much time had passed as she slumped against him, muffling her cries when she felt strong arms encircle her waist. A shaky kiss was pressed to her crown before Joonghyuk flipped her onto the bed without warning, looming over her as he pinned down her hands. The moment between them was suspended in the breath of a second, as fragile as a spider’s thread. 

He looked wrecked, shaken to the core at the feel of her shivering and clenching around him; his greedy, vulnerable heart completely bare before her. A bead of sweat rolled down a jaw sharp enough to cut glass, a boundless hunger in his starless eyes, gasping for air as he laced their fingers together. He brought their intertwined hands to his lips, eyes never leaving her face as he pressed a fervent kiss to her knuckles. 

Sometimes Joonghyuk didn’t think it was real, that he and this cunning, loudmouthed fool were married. But when he stirred awake in the early hours of dawn, he’d catch sight of their wedding rings glinting in the light casting through their bedroom. Silver and diamond dusted black sapphire, bound together to create a meteor shower flooding the night sky. 

(It was nothing compared to Dokja’s eyes, glistening beautifully as she blinked away the drowsiness, meeting his captivated gaze.)

Sweat beaded in the delicate furl of Dokja’s collarbone, a honeyed moan falling from her lips as Joonghyuk brushed against her sweet spot. Sparks ran up her spine as his breathless laughter broke the tension between them. He never looked as lighthearted as he did in that moment, the furrow in his brow smoothing out as a slow, wondrous smile formed. 

Her hand reached up to cup his face, her thumb stroking the dimple in his cheek, whispering an I love you before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. If Joonghyuk had said it back, it was lost in a murmur between them, barely loud enough for her to hear. But it didn’t matter to Dokja, didn’t need declarations to know the depth of his feelings for her. 

Not when it echoed in the way he kissed away the tears that finally spilled down her overheated cheeks as shaking hands traced over the beauty marks across her collarbone, in how he nibbled at her lower lip as he caged her in his arms, coming closer and closer to leaving behind a piece of himself with each moment he sank back into her. 

Because was the way they reached for each other, the way their fingers weaved together and their bodies entwined not a ceremony in its raw intensity, a renewal of their wedding vows?

“Dokja.” A bolt of heat ran through her at his rasping voice tickling her ear, already sounding ruined as he moved her hands to settle on his shoulders. “Hold onto me.”

Sweat poured over Joonghyuk as his hips jackhammered furiously, breathless as he groaned filth and praises in her ear; that she was so good, so soft and sweet and all his, a scarred hand slipping down to find and fondle her clit as he captured her lips in a deep kiss. Dokja was overwhelmed as she surged up to meet him, wrapping her legs around his waist and fisting her hands in his messy hair, suckling on his tongue as his hips trembled against hers. 

“Dokja,” Joonghyuk groaned helplessly, pleas of I love you and don’t leave me spilling from him between desperate kisses. “My Dokja.” 

He was so good to her, teasing out as many climaxes as he could from her; waves of sparks igniting and making her fall apart over and over until she felt little more than a limp ragdoll in his arms, still fluttering around him. She felt like she could pass out from the pleasure, sweet little death after death until all she could see were stars, but she wanted to make him finish first this time. And so she arched herself against him, her hips rising to meet his. 

“Hyuk-ie,” she mewled before nipping his earlobe, a breathless giggle escaping her as Joonghyuk caught the edge of the lace choker between his teeth and tugged. 

“Joonghyuk.”

And the sudden falter in the harsh pistoning of his hips when her legs tightened around him, the ragged moan he let out as she slammed him back into her, so deep that he grinded hard against her clit. 

That was when she knew she had him.

“Please, husband.”

He fell on top of her with a choked gasp when she beared down around him, hard enough for a filthy squelch to fill the room as the solid heat of him enveloped her. Dokja clutched him close, pretty nails raking down his back as rough, desperate thrusts made him spill deep inside her, wave after wave of trembling warmth flooding her. She moaned at the molten fullness, her hips rolling against his as she pressed passionate kisses to his swollen lips. 

The glint in Joonghyuk’s eyes was near feral as he delved into her as deep as he could, rocking himself against her sweet spot again and again until the coil of tension in her finally snapped. She threw her head back with a strangled sob as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, grabbing his shoulders as she clenched down over and over, finally letting herself go. 

Joonghyuk nearly blacked out, so intense was his moment of pleasure, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, molding her against him to make her feel everything he had to give, leaving no space between them. His wife was radiant in the whisper soft lace that echoed their wedding night, so shy and subconsciously seductive in the way she had studied herself in the mirror. 

But seeing her in this moment. 

Her back bowed in a perfect arch, taut as a violin bow as her release came crashing over her, cradling her in his embrace as her lips parted like petals with each moan and cry that escaped, her teary face lost and flushed and lovely. She was so warm under his touch, smooth and soft as spun silk; a shivering mewl escaped as calloused fingers traced their way up her body, soothing her thrumming heartbeat with whispered praises before his knuckles tenderly brushed against her cheek. 

And when her eyes, dreamy and speckled with stars blinked open, tears clinging to her lashes and kiss swollen lips curving into a blissful smile even as she felt wrung out and exhausted, drenched with sweat and her chest heaving as she gasped for air. 

Kim Dokja had never looked more beautiful. 

Time trailed as slow as honey as Dokja stroked Joonghyuk’s sweat slick skin, absently tracing the broadness of his shoulders as he sighed into the crook of her neck. She didn’t know whether to praise or curse her husband’s stamina as his hips pressed flush against hers, pulsing like the ebb and tide of the ocean. He seemed determined to keep every last drop of him inside her, as if he was unable to bear being parted from her. 

She stretched herself against him with a mewl, satisfaction coiling hot in her belly like a lazy, sunbathing cat that had its fill of cream. So loose and relaxed that she managed to wrap her arms around Joonghyuk’s neck, dropping a kiss to his nose before coyly whispering a happy anniversary, husband against his mouth. A soft shiver ran through Dokja as he chuckled against her lips, making no move to pull out as he peppered her slack mouth with nips and kisses. 

Possessive bastard, she hummed with affection, a sneaking suspicion that she’d wake up the morning after with him still inside her. Just when she let out a sigh in relief, ready to bask in the afterglow and snuggle against him and oh, who was she kidding? 

Dokja totally was going to plant her face in that broad, strong chest and use him as a pillow. 

She was only human, sue her.  

But all coherent thought vanished, a gasp sounding out as Joonghyuk suddenly drew his hips back, slowly pulling out of her. Only the tip of him was still inside before his hips snapped, plunging all the way into her without warning. His eyes burned hot as Dokja arched sharply against him, another cry startling from her, baring the graceful line of her throat as his teeth tugged at her choker, hard enough for the lace to rasp against her skin. 

“Kim Dokja.” 

His voice dipped into a dark drawl, a wicked grin spreading across his face even as he gently brushed her damp hair away from her face. 

“You planned for this,” Joonghyuk growled, his hips moving against hers in achingly slow circles. 

A hot mouth sealed over hers in a wet, messy kiss, biting at her lips between torturous strokes before trailing down her jaw and neck.

“You’ve been up to something all week. You knew exactly what you were doing, you little menace.” 

“I didn’t! Not—not in the way you think,” she gasped as her hands slipped down to palm his ass, wanting to drive him deeper, digging her fingers into the taut muscle as he let out a strangled curse. 

“I wasn’t even expecting you. I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what?” 

Joonghyuk breathed a laugh, running his fingers over where they were joined. He held them up to show the slick mess coating them before cleaning it off in long, languorous licks, the gleam of ink black eyes never leaving her face. 

“Wanted me to just watch while my wife uses her pretty little fingers to fuck herself in front of the mirror?” 

She groaned, her eyes briefly closing at the sight of his tongue swirling around his ring finger because of course he would play dirty. 

Did he really think she couldn’t see that smirk? 

“I had something else in mind. But thanks to someone—” 

Dokja somehow mustered up the energy to scoff at him, poking his dimples with a roll of her eyes like the gremlin that he often claimed she was. The flash of disbelief in her eyes screamed you were the one who pounced on me before I even got a chance to doll myself up, you sunfish before she bit his shoulder in retaliation. 

“I didn’t even get to wear the rest of it! And they were such nice stockings too,” she pouted against him in afterthought. 

She had been so looking forward to Joonhyuk’s reaction, for him to mouth his way up the sheer lace and tear them off with his teeth. For him to fuck her to the point of tears as she felt him in the back of her throat. At least the choker had done its job. She just hoped that it stayed intact the next morning for a repeat performance.

“You could still do it.” He hummed in consideration as he nuzzled her breasts, a smirk curving against her skin at the thought of her modeling her little surprise gift later. “The night’s not over yet.” 

Knowing Joonghyuk, he’d rip them apart with his bare hands and use the ruined lace to tie her wrists to the headboard, but she wasn’t opposed to it. Quite the opposite instead.

“No promises.” Dokja grinned up at him, grey eyes shining like pearls as her hand absently stroked where the warm curve of her stomach swelled, as if to make room for him to fit inside her. 

(She wistfully wondered if she would grow the same way if she was pregnant, a spark of probability sent out to beyond the stars.) 

“But that can wait.” 

She settled back against the sheets with a long sigh in relief. Sticky and sore, covered in love bites, and she felt so full. It would be a miracle if she could crawl out of bed in the morning, but it was so worth it. 

“At least after a long hot bath.” 

Joonhyuk laughed, warm breath fanning over her skin and she felt like she could float, ebullient like champagne bubbles. 

“Cute of you to think that it’s over,” She could hear the you fool in his voice, laced with tenderness as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Fuck!  

The world tilted with a speed that seemed to defy the laws of physics, too fast for her mind to process and Dokja now found herself sitting on top of him, her hands braced against his abdomen. All she could feel was pure muscle and scar tissue burning like a furnace under her touch, her breath catching in her throat as the swift movement sat him even deeper inside her. 

“But I’m not done with you yet.” 

There was a breathless grin on his face, his back pressed to the mattress and midnight eyes glowing as he drank in the sight. Her graceful figure rising over him, her skin warm and rosy with pleasure, her eyes wide as the moon and brighter than stars.

“You—” 

Whatever she wanted to say gave way to a moan, throwing her head back as she felt hot, scarred hands reach up and cradle her breasts, her nipples hardening under his touch. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk, wait wait wait—!”

His hips snapped up without warning, planting his feet against the mattress to sink the entirety of him into scalding wet heat. The little spongy spot hidden deep inside her was struck with uncanny precision, like flint against stone, her toes curling as she fluttered around him. Yoo Joonghyuk was now a man possessed, driving into her again and again as she was swept away by the rising tide. 

She was really in for it now. But like the reader she was, Kim Dokja could never say no to indulging her protagonist. She’d get better at it one day. 

(Maybe. Or not at all.)

Dokja let out a shaky exhale, her thighs quivering as she ground herself against the cradle of his hips. She steadied herself against Joonghyuk’s chest as she rose to her knees, leaving just the head of him inside her before slamming herself back down. They both groaned as she clutched around him, slick sounds filling the room as she met him thrust for thrust. A wave of possessiveness came over her as she felt him shake and shudder underneath her, reveling in knowing that she was the one making him unravel like this. 

A breathy moan startled from her as Joonghyuk sat up in one go, her nails biting into his shoulders as he kissed down her throat. The split second of being suspended in midair came crashing down, her husband moving to cradle her in his arms as the single smooth motion drove him so deep she could taste him. It wasn’t long before she began riding him in earnest, breasts bouncing with each rise and fall, faster and faster as her hips slammed down against his. 

“That’s it,” he crooned, greedily drinking in the sight of her hand sneaking down to where their bodies met, her fingers teasing and rolling her clit. “Let’s get you there again.” 

Dokja greedily bit at his lower lip, panting against his mouth before dropping her hips one last time, so hard that she startled a gasp from both of them before her head tipped back, her eyes closing in bliss as she fell apart. She rocked back against his length, trembling and crying as the aftershock rippled through her, clenching around him desperately. The only thing grounding her was Joonhyuk’s touch as he embraced her, enveloping her in the scent of sandalwood and falling rain as each overwhelmed gasp brushed against his skin. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her lace-covered throat before his heartbeat stuttered, caging her in his arms as he finally reached his own shattering release. 

“I’ve got you, Dokja-yah.” 

A blissed out expression was all she could see as he cupped her face, raining kisses all over Dokja’s flushed cheeks and parted lips. A sweet whimper escaped as he shifted, still hot and heavy inside her. She clung to him as he swallowed every frantic whine and desperate sob, her hips mindlessly rocking against his, but he was insatiable. Nothing could stop Joonghyuk from spilling into her over and over and over. 

After all, what better anniversary present could he give Kim Dokja than getting her pregnant before the end of the night? 

He could already see it. A gurgling baby with round apple pink cheeks blinking up at her mother, listening intently as a smiling Dokja told her a story. His wife glowing and gazing down at their daughter as she nursed her, letting a tiny hand grip her finger as the little girl nuzzled against her warm, soft skin. 

Kim Dokja and Yoo Biyoo with their brilliant grey eyes, reflecting each other with the same radiant stars.

“—hyuk, Joonghyuk.” 

He jolted as a crisp sound rang out, eyes startling open like phoenix wings as he felt his wife’s hands clap themselves against either side of his face. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk!” 

He nearly went cross eyed as he finally focused on Dokja, still perched in his lap. She peered at him in suspicion, lamented over the illegally sharp cut of his cheekbones. Joonghyuk should’ve looked silly like this, hair tumbling over his forehead, all wide eyed and blank faced as she kept poking at his face. What she got instead was an adorable dazed look, a healthy blush blooming over his cheeks as black sapphire eyes, framed with absurdly long lashes blinked owlishly at her. It was an oddly charming touch for an intimidating, criminally handsome man. 

Some people’s looks were just too lethal, she sighed. 

“Back to earth already?” Dokja squished his cheeks, impulse overtaking her as she grinned at the disgruntled look he shot her, somewhere between a scowl and a pout. 

“What was with the smirk?” 

His expression softened into vexing fondness as he took her hand in his, turning his head to flutter a gentle kiss to her palm. 

“I was just thinking.” He pressed a kiss to her wrist, smiling against the race of her pulse. “You’re going to have to wait for your gift.” 

She rolled her eyes, unimpressed and this close to hurling Yoo Joonghyuk, use your damn words already at him. Maybe Han Sooyoung had a point about tall, dark and mysterious protagonists being irritating as fuck after all. Not that Dokja would ever admit it to that witch. 

“And just when is this mystery gift supposed to get here?”

She had a bad feeling when Joonghyuk tipped his head and hummed, his face giving nothing away as his eyes roamed over her. 

“Our next anniversary.” 

And he got what he wanted, that too clever by half fool too busy glaring and flailing to realize the implications of his words. Riling her up came as easy as breathing and watching Dokja’s face turn red as the tomatoes she abhorred, her cheeks puffed out and her eyes sparkling in indignation— 

“Yah, what does that even mean?!” 

She was just so cute. Even when she tried to smack his chest with every second the smile on his face grew. 

“Stupid cryptic protagonist.” She was practically part cat with how she yowled at him, eyes narrowing as her hair stood on end. “Idiot sunfish. You’re so—” 

He roared with laughter, loud and bright over her sputtering, catching the hands batting at him and reeling her in, collapsing back onto the mattress with an oomph before turning to let her lay on her side, still intimately connected with him nestled inside her. Dokja could do little more than pout and huff as he cradled her to his chest, tucked under his chin as he stroked her hair. Her cheek rested against his collarbone, feeling him rumble in amusement, all the while having a niggling suspicion that she was missing something. 

She just couldn’t— 

Eh. 

Whatever. 

It could wait until Dokja mustered up the energy to interrogate him. Maybe when she was a little less achy and drunk on pleasure.

(She knew he was just itching to slink his way down and eat her out, the way he licked his lips and his eyes had strayed before blinking back up at her, but now? He was letting her take a break, oddly considerate for once.)

She settled against him, nuzzling his chest with a bone deep sigh. If she had looked up just then, she would have seen an elated grin spreading over her husband’s face as he stroked the gentle curve of her stomach. 

Still soft and flat, but with time… 

Yoo Joonghyuk had no idea that at three months old, Yoo Biyoo would be chubby and round like a peach, an affectionate little girl who loved to coo and cheerfully baby yell whenever Dokja snuggled with her during story time. Her wide eyes would curve into crescents and her starlike hands were tiny and soft, determined to hold onto his fingers and his heart as her little feet kicked happily, covered in the white booties that Persephone had knitted for her. 

He would spot faint echoes of him and his sister in the baby from the wisps of hair growing into thick inky curls, the beginnings of straight dark brows, and the tiny mismatched dimples in her cheeks when she flashed a toothless smile. It would be made even more apparent whenever Mia, already fourteen and claiming that she was way too young to be an aunt would cuddle with her niece, smooshing her cheek against Biyoo’s between complaints of Biyoo is not gonna be calling me ahjumma, no one at school will take me seriously, Gilyoung and Yoosung don’t count and she’s so fluffy, I haven’t held her long enough, go away oppa. 

But Biyoo would no longer look like the scrawny little thing she was in the early hours after her birth, crying like a lost kitten as Joonghyuk swaddled her in a fluffy daffodil yellow blanket—a gift from Yoo Sangah, but the mischievous little reader and cartoon dokkaebi monogrammed on the corner of it was all Han Sooyoung. Biyoo would look so much like Kim Dokja in her old baby photos that even Lee Sookyung would be startled by the resemblance, her eyes suspiciously wet upon holding her granddaughter for the first time.

(Lee Sookyung still barely tolerated him most days. But if she offhandedly gave him recipes for Dokja’s favourite childhood dishes, if she reminisced about how adorable her daughter was as a baby whenever she helped with Biyoo after Joonghyuk had finally coaxed Dokja into taking a nap, it was Sookyung’s way of thanking him for making her fleeting thoughts of becoming a grandmother a reality.)

Flanked by a gushing Persephone resting her chin on Sookyung’s shoulder, determined to spoil her darling new granddaughter with the finest baby clothes and toys and a quiet Hades simply holding the tiny girl’s little fist as he stared in awe at her, the older woman would claim that it was like seeing her daughter at that age all over again, right down to her eyes sparkling like the night sky. The same eyes as Biyoo’s mother and grandmother, the continuation of Seo Hyesung’s starry legacy. 

Their Biyoo would be so adorable that Joonghyuk could hardly put her down, nuzzling his daughter to his chest as she cooed sleepily at him, kissing her chubby pink cheeks and her sweet little forehead. It would become one of the habits she picked up from him, throwing her tiny arms around Kim Dokja’s neck and smothering her cheeks with sweet baby kisses. Mother and daughter’s squeals and laughter would fill the room before he would gather them in his arms, their baby nestled between him and Dokja as he breathed in the soft scent of strawberry milk and baby powder.

Yoo Joonghyuk would once again be thankful that he was this little girl’s father. 

(And it would still fill him with possessive indignation that Kim Dokja had once considered Bihyung as a potential donor. It didn’t matter in the least bit that she wasn’t even dating Joonghyuk at the time, how could that fool think about having that gremlin father her child when he was right there? There would be no way that unholy combination would turn out as half as cute as Biyoo.)

He had no idea, but still… 

Biyoo-ah, Joonhyuk thought, the familiar scent of cherry soap and well loved books washing over him as he imagined a tiny spark that would soon grow. 

I can’t wait to meet you.