DO NOT COPY
The reception was loud with laughter and champagne clinking, your cheeks still aching from smiling too much. The first dance had ended hours ago, the cake was half gone, and you thought the night couldn’t possibly get more chaotic.
Until the emcee suddenly grinned into the mic.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our groom has a special surprise for his bride!”
You blinked, confused. “Sangwon?” you mouthed across the table.
Your husband only winked — that mischievous, up-to-something wink that made your stomach flip. The lights dimmed, the crowd whooped, and then—
The bass dropped.
He stepped onto the dance floor, his groomsmen forming a line behind him. Sangwon loosened his tie, rolled his sleeves up, and tilted his head with that dangerous smile that could make an angel blush.
And then he started m•ving.
Slow. Sultry. The kind of dance that made you question every life decision that led you to sitting in front of your entire family right now.
“Sangwon!” you half-squealed, half-laughed, your hands flying to your face. But he didn’t stop. Oh no.
He owned that dance floor.
Each beat hit perfectly with the r×ll of his híps, the drag of his palm down his chest, the subtle flex of his jaw as his groomsmen hyped him up from behind. The crowd scré@med. Your friends were shrieking. Even your parents were laughing.
And yet — for Sangwon, there was only you.
He prowled closer, every step deliberate, eyes l•cked on yours. The teasing smirk on his lips made your entire soul want to sînk into the ground.
He stopped right in front of you, dropping low — too low — before rísíng again with a sh@méless b•dy r•ll that made the entire room erúpt. You could barely breathe from laughing, your face būríéd in your hands.
“Sangwon, stop— oh my god, they’re watching!” you ch•ked between giggles, your voice half-sc@nd@lizéd, half dyīng of secondhand embarrassment.
But he just grinned, voice dripping with wicked amusement as he leaned close enough for you to feel his breath against your ear.
“They can watch all they want. This—” his hīps r•lled once more, sínfūl and precise, “—is all yours, wife.”
You squealed, swatting at him as your friends scré@méd in the background.
He only laughed, throwing his head back before ste@ling a quick kiss on your forehead — the taste of ch@mp@gne and mischief still clinging to his lips.
The music ended in wild cheers. You were bré@thléss, your face høt, your heart thundering with laughter and love all at once.
And then, as the noise softened and the lights dimmed again, Sangwon leaned close — so close that only you could hear him through the chaos. His breath brushed the shéll of your ear, warm and teasing.
“Your turn to dance, wifey,” he murmured.
You froze, laughing nervously. “Sangwon, you know I can’t— not in front of everyone—”
He chuckled, low and sinful, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he whispered again — softer, darker, meant for you alone.
“I know.” His lips curled against your skin. “Who said I meant right now?”
You blinked, confused, until he pulled back just enough for you to see that wicked, boyish grin — the one that always spélléd trøublé.
“Later,” he added, his voice dipping to a husky whisper. “When it’s just us and you’re not wé@ring a thīng.”
Your breath hitched, face burning as he grinned wider, smúg and absolutely unrepentant.
You could only shake your head, laughing helplessly as he pressed one last kiss to your temple and whispered, with that same shameless affection that made your heart melt every time:
“Can’t wait for the encore, wifey.”