requested by liv!! it's nice to write another idea of yours, angel. thank you for the support, hope you like this hannie!
In a world where monsters blended into daily life, it was easy to forget what was considered dangerous. Your neighbor watered her plants at dawn despite never casting a reflection, your cousin brewed potions strong enough to melt steel, and your closest friends howled at the moon once a month without fail. It was all ordinary.
What wasn’t ordinary was dating a zombie.
Han Jisung wasn’t the mindless, rotting thing people imagined when they heard the word. He laughed too loudly at dumb jokes, forgot where he left his phone, and complained about work like anyone else.
But beneath all of that, there was something else. Something that never really went away.
Hunger. Especially for your flesh.
You had learned early on that his restraint wasn’t effortless. It was a constant, grinding control he had to maintain every single day. Most of the time, he managed it well. People assumed he was safe. They didn’t see the way his jaw tightened when someone nicked their finger, or how his gaze lingered just a second too long.
You saw it. And, maybe, you liked it more than you should.
Sometimes, when it got too much for him, you let him have a little bite of your flesh.
That evening, the quiet hum of cooking filled the apartment when the front door opened. The familiar sound of his shoes hitting the floor was followed by his voice, strained and exhausted.
"Sweetheart, I’m home."
There was something off immediately. Not just tired.
His footsteps were quicker than usual, uneven, like he couldn’t quite control the urgency behind them. By the time he reached the kitchen, he was already on you, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against him with more force than necessary.
"God, I had the worst day." He muttered, voice rough, breath hot against your neck. "I'm so tired, hun..."
You could feel it. The tension in him, the way his body wasn’t relaxing into you like it usually did. His breathing was heavier, sharper. Controlled, but barely.
"Besides…" He started again, but his voice dipped, lower now, something slipping through the cracks. "It’s been a while since I last fed, and your flesh smells so... delicious..." His nose brushed along your neck, slower this time, dragging in your scent like it was the only thing grounding him.
"May I take a little bite?" He asked, his voice strained. He wasn’t just hungry, he was desperate.
His fingers curled into your shirt, like he was holding himself back. "Just a little. I won't hurt you, I swear." He added, softer now, his tone almost whiny. "Please, baby."
There was no humor in his voice anymore. No teasing. Just hunger, stripped down and honest.