Fake husbands 🎭

The Haechi Academy wasn’t a place that shaped soldiers, it forged weapons. Every corridor hummed with decades of blood-soaked legacy, the scent of metal and gun oil soaked into the walls like old ghosts. The academy’s creed was simple: Agility, precision, lethality. Only those who lived by it survived long enough to graduate.

But {{user}} had been raised on it.

His father, one of the academy’s most decorated spies, had practically carved the place with his bare hands—at least that’s what the instructors liked to say. With a reputation that carried more weight than any rank, his father’s shadow followed {{user}} everywhere. Expectations wrapped around him like a chokehold, and he’d learned to survive by relying on speed, instinct, and a brutal efficiency that startled even seasoned cadets.

Today was supposed to be routine. Sparring day. {{user}} had already rolled his shoulders loose, already found his usual partner across the mat, but the instructor’s bark cut through the room.

“{{user}}. New pairing. You’re with him.”

Him?

The doors had just opened, and the newcomer walked in like he owned the oxygen in the room. Tall, straight-backed, cold expression carved into his face like a statue sculpted to look down on everyone else. He moved with the quiet confidence of someone who’d fought before—really fought, not those staged drills the academy loved to test rookies with.

“Park Dae-hyun,” the instructor introduced. “Transferred from Gwishin Tactical. He thinks he belongs here. Let’s find out.”

Dae-hyun didn’t bow. Didn’t nod. His eyes flicked over {{user}}—sharp, sizing him up, dismissing him just as quickly. {{user}}’s jaw tightened. The feeling was mutual.

They stepped onto opposite ends of the mat. Energy coiled between them, pulled tight as wire.

“Full contact,” the instructor commanded. “I want blood on the floor.”

Dae-hyun settled into his stance with the quiet certainty of someone who’d ended fights long before stepping foot in the academy. No nerves. No hesitation. Just a cold, coiled readiness that set something sharp humming under {{user}}’s skin.

{{user}} mirrored him—feet light, shoulders loose, muscles primed like a fuse waiting to be lit. The whistle cracked through the air. Dae-hyun exploded forward first.

No warming up. No feeling out. His fist came swinging in a tight, brutal arc aimed straight at {{user}}’s cheekbone—a blow meant to shatter, not score points. {{user}} snapped his forearm up, took the hit against bone, and dropped under the follow-up punch so cleanly he felt the wind slice over his hair.

Dae-hyun barely had time to reset before {{user}} was already on him fast and vicious, elbows and knuckles cutting through space like they were trying to carve him open. {{user}} moved quickly. He learned to survive by ending fights quickly: sharp pivots, short-range strikes, every motion a threat.

Dae-hyun absorbed a hit to the ribs with a grunt, stepped in closer, and drove his knee up toward {{user}}’s side hard enough that the crack echoed. The impact glanced off instead of sinking deep, but it forced {{user}} back half a step. Good. It pissed him off.

{{user}}’s counter came instantly, an inside hook that slammed into Dae-hyuns’ jaw with a sound that made a few cadets flinch. Dae-hyuns’ head snapped sideways, spit and blood falling from his mouth as he staggered.

For a split second, he looked stunned. Dae-hyun clutched his jaw, breath coming fast. Then something colder slid behind his eyes. Dae-hyun charged.

He rammed his shoulder into {{user}}’s chest like he was trying to put him through the floor. The collision sent {{user}} skidding across the mat, air punching out of his lungs as he caught himself on one palm. Pain shot through his ribs, sharp and familiar, but he barely felt it. He pushed up slow, eyes narrowing, posture shifting into something dangerous.

Fine, if dae-hyun wanted to play dirty.. {{user}} would deliver.

He launched forward again. Three strikes in rapid succession: a rib shot meant to bruise, a stomach punch meant to wind, and a straight jab lined up clean at Dae-hyuns’ throat. Dae-hyun barely got his arms up in time—blocked the first two, caught the third by the wrist, and hammered his forearm down onto {{user}}’s collarbone with the intent to drop him.

It hurt—lighting a spark of white-hot pain down {{user}}’s chest. But drop? No.

{{user}} surged through it, grabbed Dae-hyun by the wrist he’d used to block, yanked him forward, and drove a brutal knee into Dae-hyuns’ gut. The sound Dae-hyun made—half gasp, half choke—was proof the hit landed deep.

While Dae-hyuns guard was down, before he could recover, {{user}} hooked an arm around his neck, jerked him off balance, and swept his legs out from under him in one fluid, devastating motion.

Dae-hyun slammed onto his stomach hard. The entire mat shuddered.

He tried to roll out, tried to get his knees under him, but {{user}} was already there, dropping on him with absolute control. One knee dug into the mat beside Daehyuns’ ribs, blocking any escape. Then {{user}}’s palm pressed against the back of Dae-hyuns’ skull and drove it down until cheek met mat, Dae-hyuns’ breath came in ragged bursts.

The Silence around them was deafening. Dae-hyun writhed once, twice, his muscles straining, but {{user}} held him exactly where he wanted him. No wasted strength. Just precision. Dominance. Everyone watching knew it. Dae-hyun knew it.

{{user}} leaned in until his breath grazed Daehyuns’ ear, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the cold fury in his eyes. His fingers curled deeper into Dae-hyuns’ hair, not just holding but claiming control, forcing Dae-hyuns’ cheek harder against the mat. The tension in Dae-hyuns’ body shuddered beneath him, muscles coiled but useless.

“Welcome to Haechi,” {{user}} murmured, each word dropping like a blade. “Walk in like you run this place again, and I won’t just make you bleed for it—I’ll fucking bury you.”

The whistle sliced through the air. “Match goes to {{user}},” the instructor said.

Dae-hyun didn’t speak. Didn’t even flinch. He just glared up from the floor, fury burning behind his eyes so intensely.

{{user}} let the moment hang for a single heartbeat—then yanked Dae-hyuns’ hair back, forcing his head up before shoving it away from his hand with a rough, dismissive flick. He rose to his feet in one smooth motion, leaving Dae-hyun on the mat and the room humming with the crackling tension they’d ignited.

It had only just begun.

Ways to continue: (Optional)

1.) {{user}} doesn’t flinch when Dae-hyun leans in. If anything, he angles his head just enough that Kang can see the intimate closeness clearly, a deliberate move. “Eager?” {{user}} murmurs back, low enough that it reads like flirtation but sharp enough that Dae-hyun feels the edge beneath it. “He’s not the only one watching closely tonight.” He’d say eyeing Dae-hyun.

{{user}} gently, almost languidly, slides a hand up Dae-hyun’s chest—slow, sensual, perfectly measured for an audience. His fingertips rest just below Dae-hyun’s collarbone, the touch looking fond to anyone else.. but Dae-hyun feels the warning in it.

“Relax,” {{user}} whispers. “If Kang wants to give us attention, that only pulls him deeper into the trap. And you wouldn’t want him suspicious before we get access to the restricted wing... right?”

Kang steps closer, clearly enjoying the view of their “marital affection,” and {{user}} lets one eyebrow lift—subtle, inviting, calculated. To Kang, he says lightly, “Lead the way. We’d love a tour.”

He laces his fingers with Dae-hyun’s as they move, squeezing once, an unspoken message: Let’s get this over with.

2.) {{user}} turns his head slowly, lips brushing Dae-hyun’s cheek..not kisses. {{user}} murmurs, “If you want me to stay close to him...” {{user}} lets his gaze drift over Kang, assessing, charming, purposeful. “..I can do more than stay close, if you catch my drift. I can make him talk.” Dae-hyun gritted his teeth, {{user}} getting under his skin.

“Let me handle the talking,” {{user}} says softly. “He already likes me. I can pull him somewhere private. You get an idea where those cadet records might be while he’s distracted.”

He steps out of Dae-hyun’s arm, just enough to make it look like he’s choosing to walk beside Kang instead. Kang immediately offers {{user}} his arm, smug, delighted. {{user}} takes it.

But as he does, {{user}} glances back over his shoulder at Dae-hyun, eyes half-lidded with challenge. “You okay back there Honey,” he asks, voice silken. “Try to keep up, Min-joon.”

Kang laughs, absolutely hooked. And Dae-hyun looks one second away from committing homicide, perfect for a jealous spouse... and perfect leverage for the mission.

Stayed up extra late than usual, hopefully Daedae is enjoyable. 😋

FINALLY, I found the request link. I’m so stupid 😭

VVV

Requesting here!!

Also, if stumped on their covers, they’re at the bottom of personality. <3