#always reward loyalty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sumluckr · 25 days ago

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What loyalty gets you

Pairing: Na Baek-jin x female reader x Geum Seong-je

Summary: After a brutal fight, Baek-jin rewards Seong-je’s loyalty by offering him the one thing he’s always wanted—his girl—for one night only.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, voyeurism, praise and degradation, power dynamics, possessiveness, jealousy, mentions of violence, mild emotional manipulation.

You swab gently at the gash on Baek-jin’s cheekbone, heart heavy with worry even as he sits still under your touch. The dim lamp in the corner of the apartment casts a low, golden glow over the cramped living room, illuminating the dried blood on his skin and the fresh bruises blooming along his jaw. It’s well past midnight by now, and the silence is thick—broken only by the quiet hiss of your breath and the occasional drip of antiseptic onto cotton. Each time you dab at his wound, his dark eyes stay trained on your face, unreadable but calm, as if your presence alone numbs the sting. You can feel the tension coiled in his muscles from the fight, see it in the rigid line of his shoulders, yet he softens just enough to let you tend to him. In this moment, he’s not the Union’s fearsome leader, he’s simply your Baek-jin, hurt and exhausted, leaning subtly into your careful touch.

Across the room, Seong-je lingers by the wall, watching in silence. You’re keenly aware of his presence—his heavy breaths still evening out from the adrenaline, the scrape of his shoe on the floor as he shifts his weight. He hasn’t said a word since the three of you staggered into the apartment after the brawl. He insisted that Baek-jin take the only armchair while you fetched the first-aid kit, and he’s been standing guard nearby as if the fight might burst through the door after you. You steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s got a split lip and a darkening bruise under one eye; blood mats a portion of his dark hair to his temple. But he seems oblivious to his own injuries. Instead, his gaze is fixed on you and your lover with an intensity that makes your skin prickle with heat.

You know that look. That look—hungry, almost predatory, yet reined-in by deference. He isn’t even trying to hide it at this point; his eyes follow the movement of your hands as you tilt Baek-jin’s chin to dab at a cut on his lip. You catch the faintest twitch in his jaw, the way his battered hands clench and unclench at his sides. In the quiet, you can nearly hear how his breathing deepens whenever your body leans closer to your man, as if he’s imagining himself in his place, receiving your gentle care. It sends a subtle thrill through you—a mix of power and excitement that pools low in your belly.

It wasn’t always this way. There was a time he barely met your eyes at all, treating you with a polite distance as “Baek-jin’s girl.” But somewhere along the line, things changed.

⸻

You remember the first time you caught Seong-je staring at you like he wanted you—truly wanted you. It was a few months ago, on another long night much like this one. Baek-jin had called a small gathering of his most trusted at a secluded rooftop to strategize union business. You had accompanied him, as you often do, lingering at his side while he delegated tasks in his cool, measured tone. The summer air was sweltering, humidity sticking your blouse to your back. You recall fanning yourself with a file and noticing him leaning against the ledge, eyes fixed not on his leader as usual, but on you.

At first, you thought you were mistaken. Seong-je was known for his brutality in fights and his unwavering loyalty, not for openly ogling women—certainly not his boss’s girlfriend. But that evening, in the haze of neon city lights, his gaze had wandered. When Baek-jin shrugged off his school blazer and rolled up his sleeves mid-discussion, you stepped forward instinctively to take the discarded jacket from his hands. It was a simple, familiar gesture. He rewarded you with a small nod of thanks, and you couldn’t help a fond smile in return. That’s when you felt it: a prickling awareness along your spine. Seong-je’s eyes were on you, dark and intent.

You glanced over and caught him squarely in the act. He didn’t look away. For a heartbeat, he held your gaze, and the raw yearning in his expression made your breath catch. It was as if the mask had slipped from his face. His eyes dipped, almost of their own will, tracing the curve of that smile still on your lips, then lower to the line of your throat where a sheen of sweat clung, then lower still—to the light swell of your breasts beneath your thin summer blouse. The air felt charged, heavy between you. A slow, hot flush crept up your neck at being looked at like that—like you were something to devour. And oddly, you didn’t feel offended. If anything, you were intrigued, heart thumping faster with an excitement you pretended not to recognize.

Then Baek-jin spoke again, pulling everyone’s attention back, and Seong-je finally tore his gaze away, face hardening back into impassivity. But you had seen the crack in his armor, however brief. That night, as you and your boyfriend walked home, you found yourself replaying his expression in your mind—the dark heat in his eyes, the way his lips had parted slightly as he watched you. You wondered if Baek-jin had noticed it too.

He had.

Later that same night, curled up in his bed, you mustered the courage to mention it. “I think your right hand was staring at me earlier,” you murmured. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

His fingers paused their soothing stroke through your hair for just a moment. “Mm,” he acknowledged noncommittally. But you heard a hint of something in that sound—amusement, perhaps. As if he wasn’t surprised.

You lifted your chin to study his face in the dark. “You noticed?”

His arm around your bare waist tightened subtly, possessively. “Hard not to,” he replied, voice low. A sardonic half-smile curved his lips. “He looked like a dog eyeing a steak right off my plate.”

A startled laugh bubbled from you at his analogy. It was crude, but not wrong. You expected him to be angry, or at least annoyed at his friend’s lapse in discipline. But instead, he just shook his head, a soft snort leaving him. “I can’t exactly blame him.” With that, he rolled over swiftly and pinned you beneath him, stealing your breath with a sudden, fierce kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed with a mix of pride and hunger. “You’re exquisite,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen bottom lip. “Any man with a pulse would look. Seong-je’s just particularly bad at hiding it.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. You arched a brow in playful challenge. “And you don’t mind? Should I start buttoning my blouses up to the neck around him?”

Baek-jin’s answering grin was sharp. “No. Let him look.” He lowered his head, teeth grazing your jaw as he growled, “He can look all he wants, as long as he knows you belong to me.” The claim in his voice sent a thrill through you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and surrendered to the possessive press of his body. That night, he took you rougher than usual, spurred on, perhaps, by the memory of his right-hand man’s persistent stare. And to your secret delight, at one point he actually mentioned Seong-je. As he drove into you, hand in your hair, he hissed against your ear, “This what he was fantasizing about? Seeing you like this? Too bad for him—” His fingers tightened on your hips, “—you’re mine.”

From then on, it became a private game—one you and your boyfriend played without ever explicitly planning it. If Seong-je was going to silently yearn, then you would give him something to yearn for. At first it was little things: you’d wear a skirt that was just a touch shorter on days you knew he would be around, or casually apply lip balm during meetings, noting how his gaze darted to the shine on your lips. You weren’t bare enough to be disrespectful—just enough to make his eyes linger and his throat bob as he swallowed hard. The real kicker was that Baek-jin encouraged it in his own subtle ways. He’d smirk knowingly when he caught the other man staring, or drape an arm over your shoulder in front of him, fingers idly playing with the ends of your hair—flaunting what Seong-je couldn’t have. It was all done under the guise of normalcy, but each shared glance between you and him carried the electric crackle of conspiracy. And each time you saw his composure slip—just for a split second, a flash of desire quickly masked by a blank face—you felt a heady rush of power… and, yes, arousal.

Once, you even made him blush. It had been raining and the three of you ducked into Baek-jin’s car. Soaked to the bone, you complained about the cold and he immediately offered you his jacket. In the back seat, pressed between the two men, you shed your wet blouse right then and there to shrug into Baek-jin’s dry jacket. It wasn’t meant to be a show—at least not entirely—but out of the corner of your eye you saw Seong-je’s neck snap rigidly forward, his ears turning red as he fixed his stare on the dashboard. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him when your bare shoulder brushed his arm in the cramped space. Later, when you recounted in a whisper how poor Seong-je had gone mute and red as a beet, your lover had laughed under his breath. He traced his fingers along the curve of your shoulder and murmured, “Maybe I should really give him something to blush about next time.” The mischievous gleam in his eyes left you speechless—and aching for him.

At the time, you thought it was just dirty talk, a little fantasy fodder for the two of you to spice things up. The idea that Baek-jin would ever share you for real seemed far-fetched. He was possessive to the core; even the thought of another man kissing you would normally have him seething. But with Seong-je, it was different. Seong-je was loyal, practically a trained attack dog at Baek-jin’s command. Perhaps that’s why he never saw him as a threat, even as he noticed the way his eyes devoured you. In his mind, you suspected, Seong-je would never dare betray him or cross that line without permission. And he was right— the boy never so much as uttered a flirtation your way. He kept his yearning on a tight leash, thinking no one could see. But you both saw. And in the privacy of your love, you and Baek-jin toyed with that knowledge mercilessly.

⸻

Now here you are, months later, with that very tension thrumming in the air, stronger than ever. As you finish taping a bandage over your lover’s cheek, you chance another look at Seong-je. He’s standing rigid in his corner, one shoulder braced against the wall, his hands now shoved into the pockets of his blood-stained school uniform pants. The cut on his lip has dribbled a thin line of crimson down his chin, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s too busy watching the delicate way you cradle Baek-jin’s face as you tend to him. There’s open longing there—raw and undisguised in this unguarded moment. Perhaps the exhaustion from the fight has lowered his defenses. Or perhaps he thinks neither of you can see him in the low light. Either way, his desire is plain as day to you.

And Baek-jin certainly notices too. A soft hum escapes his throat, drawing your focus. He’s been following your gaze; as you set aside the bloodied cotton, you see the hint of a smirk tug at his lips. His eyes flick past you toward his friend. Assessing. Even injured and tired, his mind is always working, plotting. You’ve learned to recognize that calculating spark in his expression—and it’s there now. He reaches up, capturing your wrist lightly before you can withdraw completely.

“You missed a spot,” he says, voice low and gentle. He guides your hand back to his mouth, to the cut on his lip. Obediently, you dab the last bit of dried blood from the corner of his mouth. His gaze remains locked on yours, but you know this performance is as much for Seong-je’s benefit as anything. Sure enough, from the corner of your eye you see Seong-je shift, taking half a step forward as if on impulse, maybe to offer help. He stops himself short. His hands jerk out of his pockets, then freeze at his sides, fingers flexing helplessly. The poor guy looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself—torn between duty and the ache drawing him toward you.

A sliver of compassion twists in your chest. He really gave everything tonight. The fight had been brutal—an ambush by a pack of some thugs intent on cornering Baek-jin. You remember the chaos: the flash of knives in the alley, the thunder of fists; your man and Seong-je back to back as dozens of them swarmed. Outnumbered, the two of them still fought like hell, protecting each other with near-suicidal resolve. If Seong-je hadn’t tackled that one guy who lunged at him with a steel pipe, his ribs might be shattered now… or worse. He took that blow instead, and many more. He’d bleed himself dry for Baek-jin’s sake—that much has always been clear.

You chew your lip, regarding Seong-je’s wounds again. The adrenaline of battle has long faded, and now he looks just tired and hurt, a man sagging on his feet. Under the smear of blood and dirt, his sharp features are drawn in fatigue. He catches you looking and quickly averts his eyes, as if embarrassed to be caught in weakness or in desire, you’re not sure which. Sympathy wins over your teasing impulses; you can’t in good conscience ignore him.

Gently, you extricate your wrist from Baek-jin’s hold and rise from your crouch at his feet. “Stay still, Jin,” you murmur to your boyfriend—using the tender nickname you’d never utter around others. Only Seong-je is here, and he’s family enough. “I’ll get you some water in a second.”

He tilts his head curiously as you stand. He doesn’t protest, simply leaning back in the armchair and watching as you cross the small space to where Seong-je stands.

He straightens up the instant you approach, eyes widening slightly. “You should sit,” you tell him softly. You nod toward the edge of the low coffee table. “Let me take a look at you.”

“I’m fine,” Seong-je rasps, his voice rough from hours of shouting and fighting. Up close, you can see the fine tremor in his arms from the comedown of adrenaline. His knuckles are split and raw, his white dress shirt spattered with blood—some his, some not. Stubborn as always, he insists, “It’s nothing. You don’t have to—”

“Sit,” you repeat firmly, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. His muscles tense under your touch, as if your fingertips sear him through the blood-soaked sleeve. For a second, he looks over your shoulder, toward Baek-jin, as if seeking permission. When Baek-jin gives a slight nod, he finally relents. He lowers himself onto the wooden table, wincing as he bends his bruised midsection.

“Good,” you say, offering an encouraging smile. You reach for the clean cloth in your hand, wet with antiseptic, and hold it up. “This might sting.”

His dark eyes flick to the cloth and then to your face. He swallows. “I’ve had worse,” he manages, attempting nonchalance. Yet when you step between his knees to get a better angle, he inhales sharply. You can tell it’s not pain that causes the reaction—it’s you, standing so close that your knees nearly brush against his thighs.

With a steadying breath, you take his chin in your free hand. His stubble scrapes your palm; he hasn’t had the chance to shave since yesterday. Tilting his face up towards the light, you inspect the damage. The cut on his bottom lip isn’t deep, but it’s still bleeding sluggishly. A purplish bruise is already swelling along his strong jawline. You gently dab at the blood on his lip, and he hisses softly through his teeth.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

He shakes his head minutely. “I’m okay.” But his voice comes out strained. His gaze darts upward, meeting yours. The air between you feels charged again, that familiar crackle intensifying with each brush of your hand. You clean the cut as best you can, conscious of how his breath is fanning warm across your wrist. He’s so close now; you can see a tiny faded scar across the bridge of his nose, catch the subtle scent of smoke and sweat clinging to him from the fight. His eyes are fixed on you unwaveringly, pupils dark and dilated.

You realize then that your positions have shifted the power dynamic, even if just for this moment. Here you are, standing over the gang’s most notorious enforcer, coaxing obedience out of him with a mere touch and a word, where others only get curt compliance through Baek-jin’s orders. His knees bracket your legs—whether intentionally or not, you’re effectively between his thighs. The proximity sends a flush through you. One of your hands rests on his chin, thumb just shy of his mouth; the other dabs at his lip carefully, slowly. It’s intimate, unmistakably so.

From behind you, you hear the soft creak of the armchair. Baek-jin shifts, but he doesn’t interfere. He simply watches. You can almost feel his gaze burning into your back. Is he amused? Protective? Or something else entirely? Your pulse quickens at the thought that this is turning him on—that seeing you tend to Seong-je, seeing him practically tremble under your gentle care, might be affecting Baek-jin in the same dark, twisted way it affects you.

“There,” you murmur as you finish cleaning his lip. It’s puffy and red, but at least no longer smeared with blood. Your hand lingers, fingertips unconsciously tracing the sharp line of his jaw where purple bruises bloom. “You should really put some ice on this.”

He doesn’t reply. He’s too busy searching your face, eyes roaming over every detail as if committing this rare closeness to memory. His chest rises and falls in shallow, controlled breaths. When your thumb sweeps lightly over his uninjured upper lip—wiping a last smudge of blood—his eyelids flutter, a tiny falter in composure that makes your stomach flip.

He wants to kiss you. The realization slams into you as powerfully as any fist from earlier tonight. You can see it in the way his gaze drops to your mouth, the way his tongue darts out just briefly to wet his own cracked lips. The tension between you spirals taut. For a crazy moment, you wonder what he’d do if you leaned in, closed that scant distance. Would he give in and press his lips to yours, damn the consequences? Would he finally take something for himself?

Your heart thuds. The mere thought of his mouth on yours sends a forbidden jolt of heat down your spine. You recall all the times you caught him staring, all the nights you imagined—privately, guiltily—what it would feel like if those intense eyes of his ever burned into you without restraint. Despite knowing it’s wrong, despite your unwavering devotion to your boyfriend , a part of you does wonder how Seong-je’s touch would feel. You’ve wondered ever since the teasing game began, and each time Baek-jin growled in your ear that you were his, some secret corner of your mind envisioned Seong-je roughly pinning you in some dark alcove, acting out those lustful looks in heated, stolen moments.

It was all fantasy, though. You never truly intended to cross that line. Neither did he—he wouldn’t dare betray Baek-jin. And Baek-jin… well, Baek-jin would never allow it.

Or so you thought.

You clear your throat, stepping back slightly to regain some equilibrium. His hands hover as if he had the urge to hold your hips when you were close but resisted. Now he settles for curling them into fists on his own thighs. “Thank you,” he mumbles, voice huskier than before.

You offer a small smile, trying to lighten the charged atmosphere. “We take care of each other, right?”

At that, his eyes flick past you again, toward where Baek-jin sits. “Of course,” he says quietly. “Of course we do.” There’s a world of promise in that simple statement. For both of you he would bleed himself dry, as he proved tonight.

Baek-jin’s voice cuts through the quiet, smooth and authoritative. “Seong-je.”

You both turn to look at him. He is leaning forward in the armchair now, forearms braced on his knees despite what must be sore ribs. His tie has been loosened, the first few buttons of his shirt undone where you had checked his chest for bruises. Even battered and bandaged, he exudes control. His eyes flick from Seong-je to you and back. In them, you detect not anger, but a contemplative darkness.

“You did well tonight,” he says. It’s simple praise, but in his world, such words are rare and precious. Seong-je straightens further, spine snapping taut with pride at his leader’s commendation. “You protected me without hesitation. Fought better than any ten of those bastards combined.” His lips curl faintly. “I owe you my life, perhaps.”

Seong-je immediately shakes his head, winces at the pain that movement causes, and bows it instead. “Just doing my job,” he grunts. “You know I’d do anything for you.” There’s a tremor of emotion in his voice—earnest, absolute truth. You believe it; your man believes it. Everyone knows his loyalty is ironclad.

Baek-jin regards his right-hand man for a long moment, fingers steepled as if considering something weighty. Then his gaze slides to you. A chill of anticipation skates over your skin at the look in his eyes. It’s the look of a man who has made a decision—a dangerous, irrevocable decision.

The next words that fall from his lips make your heart skip into your throat.

“I reward loyalty,” he says softly, leaning back. “And you’ve been nothing if not loyal.” He tilts his head, appraising the younger man before him. “You’ve bled for me. Time and again.” There’s an undercurrent to his tone that makes your pulse thrum. He is building up to something. You hold your breath without meaning to.

Seong-je frowns slightly, clearly unsure how to respond. “Seeing you safe is reward enough,” he says carefully. He means it too—ever the dutiful soldier.

Baek-jin chuckles—a low, dark sound. “Humility… fine. But I insist.” He pushes himself up from the armchair with a grunt, gingerly testing his balance. Immediately, you step forward on instinct to help, but he holds a hand up. He stands under his own power, if a bit stiffly. Even banged up, his presence looms large in the small living room. He’s only a couple of inches taller than the other man, but in this moment he seems to tower over both of you as he takes a few measured steps forward.

Your heart is hammering wildly now. Because you think you know what he’s about to say. You can sense it in the charged way his eyes meet yours—a silent question, a warning, and a promise all at once.

He stops in front of you and Seong-je. You realize you’re still standing between Seong-je’s knees, and he is facing the two of you like an appraising general. A mirthless smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “What kind of leader would I be,” he says lightly, “if I didn’t repay such devotion?”

Seong-je opens his mouth to protest that no reward is needed, but Baek-jin raises one finger, silencing him. The authoritative gesture makes him snap his jaw shut, obedient out of reflex.

A hot, nervous flush crawls over your skin. Is this really happening? Is he truly going to do what your gut says he will?

His hand reaches out and settles on your shoulder. His palm is warm and firm; the touch makes you realize how tense you’ve become. He gives the slightest squeeze, a reassurance and a claim all at once. Then, meeting your eyes, he speaks calmly, as if proposing something as simple as a change in plans. “Tonight… I’m giving you something special.” His gaze drifts from your face to Seong-je’s wide, disbelieving eyes. “You’ve been watching her for a long time, haven’t you?”

The air in the room evaporates. All the color drains from Seong-je’s face even as his cheeks flare red. “B-Baek-jin—” he starts, the stutter of panic and guilt obvious. His eyes dart to you in horror, then back to Baek-jin. “I— I never—”

“Don’t lie.” His voice is dangerously soft. He slides his hand from your shoulder to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. The gesture is protective, possessive. You feel a faint shiver go through you at the show of dominance. “We’ve both seen it. The way you look at my girl.”

Seong-je’s throat works. He looks as though he might leap up and throw himself at Baek-jin’s feet in apology. “Respectfully.” he croaks, anguish threading through his tone. “I would never lay a hand on her—”

Baek-jin hushes him with a simple sound, a “tsk” of his tongue. “I know you wouldn’t. You’re far too loyal for that,” he says. Then, in a shocking turn, his lips curl into a true smirk. “But you forget—I don’t blame you for wanting to.” His hand on your neck slides around to cup your jaw, tilting your face upward. He leans in and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead. The tenderness of it makes your chest ache even through the storm of anxiety and excitement swirling inside you.

He pulls back slightly, his face now close to yours. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he murmurs, almost in reverence, though the words are directed at Seong-je. You realize your entire body is trembling subtly beneath Baek-jin’s touch. Every nerve stands on edge.

Behind you, Seong-je releases a shaky breath. He doesn’t answer out loud, but the answer is plain in his eyes. He’s staring at you as if transfixed, the conflict on his face stark—guilt warring with desire and disbelief.

Your lover’s thumb strokes your cheek absently. You turn your head just enough to meet his gaze, silently asking if he’s truly sure about this. In response, he gives you an almost imperceptible nod. His eyes search yours, checking—always checking—that you trust him, that you’re okay. And God help you, you are. You are terrified and thrilled all at once. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest, but underneath the nerves, molten arousal is already unfurling. This is a line you never thought you’d cross in reality, but here you are, toes on the precipice, with Baek-jin himself offering to push you over.

His voice drops, thick with authority and something darker. “Tonight,” he declares, “Seong-je gets what he’s been craving.” He holds your chin firmly, eyes blazing into yours. “Tonight, I’m letting him have you.”

A soft gasp escapes your lips. Even knowing it was coming, hearing it said so bluntly is electrifying. You feel Seong-je jerk behind you as if struck. The silence that follows is thunderous.

He is first to break it, stumbling over his words. “Baek-jin… what are you—?” He looks at you, frantic and unsure, then back at his boss as if searching for any sign that this is a cruel joke or a test of loyalty.

He merely raises an eyebrow. “You heard me.” His tone is calm but carries an edge that says he won’t repeat himself. “One night. Just this once.” His fingers flex against your jaw, tilting your face slightly from side to side as if showing you off. “I’m feeling generous.”

Seong-je’s breathing has gone ragged. You glance at him over your shoulder; he’s shaking his head, eyes wide with disbelief and—yes—pure hunger that he’s struggling mightily to contain. “I can’t,” he rasps. Yet even as he says it, you notice his gaze dropping to your lips, your neck, the slope of your shoulders, like he can’t help himself. “She’s yours, I— I can’t…”

Baek-jin lets out a low laugh. “You can,” he corrects, almost cheerfully. “Because I’m telling you to. Consider it a reward. For everything.” His smile fades, replaced by a fierce seriousness. “Take it, or are you refusing my gift?” There’s a subtle challenge there.

“No, I—” Seong-je swallows hard. “I would never refuse you. I just… are you really ok with this?” His voice cracks on the last word, sounding so painfully vulnerable that your heart squeezes. He’s caught between loyalty and longing, afraid one will betray the other.

Baek-jin’s expression softens a fraction. He slides his hand from your jaw to the back of your neck again, then down along your spine in a slow caress. You unconsciously arch into his touch, your body responding to him automatically. He notices—of course he does—and his eyes darken with approval. He speaks, addressing Seong-je but also reminding you both who orchestrates this. “It’s okay. I’m in control.” A ghost of a smirk crosses his face. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Your knees nearly buckle at his words. I’m in control. Yes, he is—and paradoxically, that’s what makes you feel safe enough to go through with this insanity. You trust him with your life, with your heart, with your body. If he says this is okay, if he wants this to happen, then you will obey. Not just for him, but because deep down, beyond the layers of taboo and nerves, you want this too. The truth crashes over you with sudden clarity: you want to feel Seong-je’s touch, want to taste the forbidden desire you’ve stoked for months. And you want to see Baek-jin’s face as it happens, to know that he’s watching every second of it, owning it, owning you, even in this.

Heat floods between your thighs at the thought. You bite your lower lip, eyes flicking from your partner to his right hand. Both men are looking at you now—their attention combined is almost overwhelming, like standing in the center of a raging fire.

Baek-jin’s hand comes up to your chin, gently freeing your captured lip from your teeth. He runs his thumb over it, soothing the bite mark. “Baby,” he says softly, only for you to hear. The pet name sends warmth through you; he rarely uses such endearments, and when he does, it melts you. “Do you want this?” He searches your face intently. Even now, even holding all the power, he seeks your true consent.

Your throat is dry. Desire wars with anxiety inside you, but desire is winning by a landslide. You could say no—he would drop the idea in an instant if you showed the slightest discomfort. But you don’t want to say no. The aching dampness in your panties is evidence enough of your arousal, and the thrill pounding through your veins is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Still, your voice comes out a trembling whisper, laced with honesty, “I… I do. If you’re sure, Jin, I— I want it.”

He exhales, and you see something flicker in his eyes—a mix of pride and arousal and possessive satisfaction at your answer. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, the words rolling over you like honey. You nearly preen at the affirmation, cheeks heating.

Seong-je makes a strained noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, as if hearing Baek-jin call you that affected him too. You glance back at him; his face is flushed, chest rising and falling in quick pants now. He looks at you with open wonder, as though he can’t believe you agreed, can’t believe this is about to be reality.

Baek-jin steps aside, creating a space directly in front of Seong-je—and guiding you subtly into it. You turn fully to face him, your knees nearly brushing his again. He’s still seated on the low table, which positions you standing between his spread legs. The height is perfect—your hips level with his. Your heart leaps into your throat as you truly take in his expression: he looks like a man on the verge of madness, holding himself rigid to keep from reaching for you. There’s fear in his eyes—fear that one wrong move might shatter Baek-jin’s permission and end this before it starts.

Behind you, Baek-jin’s presence is a reassuring shadow. He hasn’t moved far; he’s just off to your right, close enough that you feel the heat radiating from him. You’re hyper-aware of every detail—the soft swish of his slacks as he shifts, the ragged way Seong-je exhales, the roaring in your own ears.

“Relax” Baek-jin says, almost kindly. He places a firm hand on your lower back, nudging you another half-step toward the trembling man on the table. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Seong-je’s eyes flick up to yours, tortured. “I never— I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh.” You surprise even yourself by raising your hand to press a finger against Seong-je’s lips, halting his faltering apology. His lips are warm and slightly chapped under your touch. He freezes, shocked into silence, eyes widening at your boldness. It’s the first time you’ve willingly touched his mouth—something deeply intimate about that realization sends a thrill along your arm. “We know,” you whisper, giving him a gentle smile. “We know.” That simple assurance holds volumes: we know how you feel, we’re okay with it, you’re not doing anything wrong now.

Slowly, you remove your finger from his lips. Seong-je’s breathing is shallow and fast; you can see the rapid thrum of his pulse at his throat. His hands hover uncertainly in the air near your hips, as if he wants to grab you but doesn’t dare.

You decide to make the first move. After all, Baek-jin’s given the green light, and he clearly needs another push to believe this isn’t some cruel mirage. You reach down and take one of his hands in yours. He inhales sharply, eyes darting to where your fingers entwine with his. His hand is larger, rough and calloused from countless fights, but it trembles in your gentler grasp.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, guiding his hand upward. You flatten his palm against your waist, just above the curve of your hip. His fingers twitch, then curl, gingerly holding you. Even through the fabric of your thin tank top, his touch feels hot, searing into your skin. “You can touch me.” The permission leaves your lips in a sultry murmur you barely recognize as your own voice.

He makes a strangled sound deep in his throat. He splays his other hand at your opposite hip, still moving as if any second he expects to be rebuked. When no rebuke comes—when instead Baek-jin hums in approval behind you—his grip firms, pulling you closer between his thighs.

The first press of his body against yours is exhilarating in its newness. Where Baek-jin is all coiled restraint and calculated strength, Seong-je feels like a barely contained storm—every muscle in him taut, trembling with need he’s denied himself for so long. He’s warm and solid and alive against you.

Your hands find his broad shoulders to steady yourself. “Hi,” you manage to tease breathlessly, a faint smile on your lips to ease his nerves.

A short, incredulous huff of laughter escapes him. “Hi,” he echoes, voice wrecked and disbelieving. His eyes roam your face like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time.

Baek-jin’s hand on your back slides up to the nape of your neck, fingers curling possessively around it. You feel him step closer, his chest almost touching your shoulder. When he speaks, his voice is liquid fire: commanding and dark. “Kiss her, Seong-je.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. The last thread of hesitation snaps. He surges forward, capturing your lips with a needy groan, years of pent-up desire pouring into that first kiss.

The force of it sends you stumbling back a half-step, but Baek-jin’s hand on your neck holds you steady, even as Seong-je’s hands now grip your hips tight. He kisses you like he’s starving, mouth hot and desperate against yours. The coppery tang of his cut lip mixes with the taste of him—smoke and spearmint gum and something distinctly him that makes your head spin. You gasp against his mouth at the sheer intensity. His tongue skims your lower lip, seeking entrance, and you part for him, a soft moan escaping as he delves inside, licking deep with a fervor that leaves you dizzy.

It’s not a refined kiss by any means—he’s clumsy with urgency, teeth clicking against yours briefly, breath ragged—but it’s so damned genuine it makes your knees weak. You feel his reverence in the way one of his hands slides up your back, bunching your shirt as if to pull you closer still, and in the almost broken whimper that vibrates in his throat when you tentatively suck on his tongue in welcome.

Behind you, Baek-jin’s fingers tighten on your neck. “That’s it…” he murmurs approvingly, his breath ghosting hot at your ear. He hasn’t touched him, but his presence is all around, an unseen puppeteer guiding the strings of this encounter. “How does she taste, Seong-je?”

He tears his mouth from yours at the question, panting. His eyes flutter open, glazed with lust. For a moment he looks embarrassed, but then, locking eyes with Baek-jin over your shoulder, he answers in a voice hoarse with honesty, “Sweet… fuck, she tastes so sweet.” His fingers flex at your waist as if emphasizing the point.

A dark, pleased chuckle rumbles from Baek-jin. “Good.” He brushes your hair aside and, to your surprise, presses a kiss just below your ear. You shiver, caught between two flames now—the heat of Seong-je’s desire and the simmering dominance of your boyfriend at your back. “Don’t be gentle,” he purrs, though who he’s talking to, you’re not certain. Maybe both of you. “She likes it rough.”

A whimper escapes your throat at his lewd encouragement. He isn’t wrong—you do like it rough, a fact Baek-jin has taken full advantage of in your personal life. But hearing him tell Seong-je that, essentially giving Seong-je permission to unleash himself on you, sends a bolt of raw lust straight between your legs.

Seong-je’s eyes search yours at Baek-jin’s words, as if seeking confirmation. His face is still mere inches from yours, his lips red and slick from your kiss. You nod almost imperceptibly, voice trembling but sure: “It’s okay. I… I won’t break.” A teasing glint sparks in your eye despite the shakiness in your limbs. “Don’t hold back.”

Something primal flashes across his face. He grits his teeth, and for a beat you think he might actually cry from sheer relief and desire. Instead, with a low growl, he swoops in to claim your mouth again—this time even more ferocious. You gasp into the kiss as he stands from the table in one fluid motion, arms banding around you. The sudden movement startles you, but Jin’s hand stays firm on your nape, keeping you grounded.

Now Seong-je is towering over you, one arm around your lower back pressing you flush to his front. You feel every hard line of him: the ridges of muscle beneath his battered shirt, the pounding of his heart, and lower—oh. Oh. A thick bulge straining against his pants, grinding against your stomach as he pulls you into his hips. The realization of how aroused he is sends a hot flood of moisture to your core. You can’t help it; you roll your body subtly against that hardness, a tiny mewl muffled by his lips.

“Fuck,” Seong-je hisses at the friction. He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. Without warning, he ducks his head and latches his mouth onto your neck, sucking and biting with an unrestrained hunger. You cry out, head tipping back. Pain sparks where he nips at your sensitive skin, but it only fuels your desire. He soothes each bite with his tongue, then moves to mark a new spot, clearly intent on leaving evidence of himself on you.

Your eyes flutter open in the haze of sensation—and meet Baek-jin’s steady gaze inches away. He hasn’t moved from your side. If anything, he’s drawn closer. You’re effectively sandwiched: Seong-je’s broad form in front of you, Baek-jin’s solid presence to your right, curving slightly behind. His hand on your neck tilts your head his way, exposing more of your throat to Seong-je’s ravenous mouth. But Baek-jin’s eyes remain locked on yours. They are dark, nearly black with arousal. Yet beneath that, you see a flicker of emotion—control, possession, and a flicker of pride. Pride at how you moan, at how Seong-je groans against your skin as he feasts on you.

It’s all too much and not enough. Your hands claw at Seong-je’s back, needing more contact. “Jin…” you whimper, not even sure what you’re pleading for—maybe reassurance, maybe more.

Baek-jin’s response is to claim your mouth in a sudden, searing kiss of his own. You gasp into his lips, not having expected it. He hasn’t kissed you since this began; the shock of it now—right in front of Seong-je—sends your mind reeling. This kiss is different from Seong-je’s. Baek-jin’s lips move against yours with confidence and ownership, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with yours in a show of dominance. He tastes of copper from the cut on his lip and the familiar bitterness of black coffee that he downed earlier after the fight, and underlying it all, the taste that is uniquely him—intoxicating and addictive. You whine softly as he steals your breath, his fingers tightening in your hair.

Seong-je’s mouth stills at your neck as he realizes what’s happening. He pulls back just enough to watch. You can feel his panting breaths against the damp marks he left on your skin. The low curse he utters tells you he’s witnessing Baek-jin kiss you, and it’s turning him on. Baek-jin keeps kissing you deeply, almost as if reminding both of you that he is the one you belong to—this kiss a stark contrast to the ones you just shared with Seong-je. It leaves you lightheaded and clinging to the front of Baek-jin’s shirt with one hand to stay upright.

When Baek-jin finally pulls away, your lips are tingling, swollen from the combined force of two men’s passion. He runs a thumb over your bottom lip, smirking as it comes away red with the smear of your lipstick and a tiny dot of blood from where either Seong-je or he bit you. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, possessive satisfaction dripping from the word.

Seong-je’s hands flex on your waist, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes are half-lidded, fixated on your mouth and the string of saliva that briefly still connects you and Baek-jin. He looks utterly wrecked by the sight: the two people he most obsessively devotes himself to, kissing each other fiercely right in front of him. And now that same mouth—your mouth—is turned back toward him, inviting him to claim it once more.

You give him a sultry, reassuring look. The desire blazing in his expression has burned away any last hesitance. When you lean toward him, he meets you eagerly, crashing his lips to yours with a groan. The kiss is hungry and messy; he sucks on your tongue, then your lower lip, as if trying to consume you. A growl vibrates deep in his chest, the vibration transferring to you and making you whimper.

While he devours your mouth, Baek-jin’s hands start to wander. He slides the hand at your nape down along your spine, over the curve of your ass. With a swift motion, he gathers the fabric of your skirt—oh, when had your skirt ridden up so high? You only notice now that his fingers are skimming the bare skin of your upper thigh. He rucks the skirt up to your waist in the back, exposing your panties to the cool air. Instinctively, you tense, breaking the kiss with Seong-je in a gasp. You glance around in surprise—somehow it hadn’t fully registered that in all your teasing foreplay, you’re still largely clothed .

Baek-jin looks down at the expanse of your ass now on display and hums appreciatively. “These are cute,” he remarks, snapping the waistband of your black lace panties against your skin lightly. “But they’re in the way.”

Before you can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing. Your heart stutters—he has hooked his fingers into the delicate lace and simply torn your panties apart at the seam with one harsh tug. The shredded remains fall from your hips, fluttering to the floor.

A shocked moan escapes you, both at the sudden exposure and at how blatantly filthy it was for him to rip them off. The slight sting of the elastic snapping against your skin only heightens your arousal. You’re naked under your skirt now, bare and wet and throbbing.

“Fuck,” Seong-je curses, voice thick as he stares down. He can’t see everything from the front, but he definitely saw Baek-jin toss aside the torn scrap of lace that was your underwear. The realization that only a thin skirt separates him from your most intimate parts has his eyes turning nearly black with lust.

You instinctively press your thighs together at the sudden exposure, but Baek-jin’s knee nudges between them from behind, forcing them slightly apart. “Don’t hide, babe,” he murmurs into your hair. “Not tonight.”

One of Seong-je’s large hands abandons your waist to slide down, fingers trembling as they brush the front hem of your skirt. Hesitantly, he lifts it, and your breath hitches as you permit him to see. A strangled noise tears from his throat when he realizes just how wet you are. The dim light catches the slick shine on your inner thighs. You flush with embarrassment and excitement—there’s no hiding how aroused this has made you.

He drags his fingertips up your thigh, tracing through the moisture there in awe. “She’s… soaking,” he reports in a ragged whisper, as if Baek-jin might not believe it without confirmation.

Your boyfriend groans softly behind you. “I can see that.” He slides his hand around your hip, then down between your legs from behind, cupping your sex possessively. Two of his fingers slip between your folds, spreading them. You jolt, a gasp catching in your chest as he deliberately exposes your most sensitive flesh to the cool air—and to Seong-je’s ravenous eyes. “Look how ready she is for you,” he practically purrs, running his fingers through your slick without mercy. He doesn’t enter you—just glides them back and forth, gathering your arousal and presenting it. “This all for him, baby?” he asks, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

You choke on a moan as his fingertips circle your clit teasingly. “I—it’s f-for both of you,” you manage to whimper. “I… I can’t help it.”

Seong-je looks like a man on the verge of losing any shred of sanity. Watching Baek-jin touch you so intimately, hearing the wet sounds of your arousal on his fingers—he’s transfixed. His own hand has moved of its own accord to join Baek-jin’s. Tentatively, Seong-je brushes the backs of his fingers over your bared mound, feeling the slickness there. When he makes contact with your swollen clit, you keen, thighs trembling.

Baek-jin withdraws his hand, leaving you to Seong-je’s touch. “Go on,” he urges lowly. “Make her feel good. She’s yours to please tonight.”

If his words are meant to encourage Seong-je, they succeed. Seong-je slides off the table to kneel on the floor in front of you in one swift movement, ignoring any pain it causes his battered body. Suddenly, you have the Union’s most feared member on his knees, face level with your hips—and the sight is utterly intoxicating to all three of you.

You can hardly breathe as Seong-je’s hands firmly grip the backs of your thighs, just below your ass. He nudges your legs further apart, eyes flicking upward to meet yours briefly. His pupils are blown, face flushed; he looks almost worshipful and utterly depraved at once. “Tell me if… if I go too far,” he says, voice rough and trembling with restraint. It’s clear he’s on the brink of devouring you alive.

You bite your lip and nod, sliding a hand into his hair without realizing. His hair is damp with sweat, silky between your fingers. You tug gently, and the last thread of his resolve snaps.

With a guttural groan, he buries his face between your thighs. His broad shoulders push your legs further open as he presses in. The first hot swipe of his tongue against your cunt has you crying out, hips jerking forward. He licks a broad stripe through your folds, tasting you properly, and the feral noise he makes against your flesh sends vibrations thrumming into you.

“Oh God—” you gasp, hand tightening in his hair. The sensation is overwhelming; he’s licking and sucking with no hesitation now, as though he can’t get enough of your taste. He closes his lips around your clit and suckles, and your knees nearly give out. Only his strong grip on your thighs (and Baek-jin’s steadying arm that quickly circles your waist from behind) keeps you upright.

Baek-jin curses softly near your ear. “That’s it… eat her pussy good.” he encourages filthily. His crude words make you moan louder. His lips find your neck, kissing and nibbling at the marks Seong-je left earlier. All the while, his arm around your middle holds you firm, like an anchor in this tempest of sensation.

Seong-je devours you like a starved man. He alternates between plunging his tongue into your entrance—fucking you with it with sloppy eagerness—and sucking your sensitive clit between his lips until you’re seeing stars. The room echoes with the wet, obscene sounds of him lapping at you, slurping up every drop of your arousal as if it’s ambrosia.

Heat coils and tightens low in your belly at a breakneck pace. You realize with a thrill of disbelief that you’re hurtling toward orgasm embarrassingly fast—his raw enthusiasm and skill (however unpolished) are undoing you. It’s never been this quick for you normally, but the cocktail of circumstances—his mouth, Baek-jin’s voice and hands, the sheer depravity of being shared—has your body hurtling to the edge.

Baek-jin seems to notice, because he releases your neck and moves that hand down to join the fray. His fingers find your clit just as Seong-je’s tongue spears deep inside you, and he rubs in tight, knowing circles, effectively teaming up to destroy you. “Go on, baby,” he murmurs in your ear. “Come on his tongue. Let him taste how sweet it is when you cum.”

His words push you over the precipice. With a wail, you shatter. Pleasure detonates, radiating out from your core in violent, ecstatic waves. Your thighs clamp around Seong-je’s head as you buck against his face, your hand fisting in his hair. He growls in delight and holds you in place, latching onto your clit to prolong your climax, licking and sucking frantically as you writhe.

White-hot ecstasy surges through every nerve. Your vision whites out; you’d collapse completely if not for Baek-jin supporting you against him. You hear him whispering praise—“That’s my girl… so fucking gorgeous when you cum…”—his voice thick with arousal. And beneath that, Seong-je’s labored groans as he drinks you down, evidently in heaven as you soak his mouth and chin with your release.

It feels endless and all too brief at once. Gradually, the convulsions subside. You slump back against Baek-jin’s chest, panting, little aftershocks making your muscles twitch. Seong-je finally eases up, releasing your oversensitive flesh from his relentless mouth. He rests his forehead against your lower belly, still holding your trembling thighs. Both of you are catching your breath.

He’s panting as hard as if he ran miles, and when he pulls back enough for you to see him, the sight is downright debauched: his face is glistening with your arousal, lips swollen and chin wet. His eyes are heavy-lidded, utterly drunk on you. “So good…” he mumbles hoarsely, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, almost in gratitude. “You taste… fuck.”

His unabashed reverence sends a flush of pleasure through you. Instinctually, you stroke his hair, brushing damp strands back from his forehead. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly as if starved for that affection.

“Enjoying yourself?” Baek-jin asks, voice laced with dark humor. You feel the hard evidence of his own enjoyment pressing against your back—he’s rock solid beneath his slacks. The fact that he got fully hard just from orchestrating this, from watching his friend ravish you, makes you clench with renewed need.

Seong-je tilts his head up to look at Baek-jin. Some of the nervousness returns to his expression as he wipes the back of his hand across his wet mouth. “Yes, boss,” he says quietly, respectfully, though his voice still shakes with lingering hunger. “Thank you… that was…” He trails off, apparently unable to find words for what that meant to him.

Baek-jin’s hand pets over your belly, then lower, making you jolt as he cups your still-sensitive sex possessively. “She’s delicious, isn’t she?” he says, almost conversationally, but there’s an unmistakable pride there—as if he deserves credit for how good you taste.

Seong-je’s gaze drops to where Baek-jin’s fingers are now lightly playing through your soaked folds once more. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips, as though he can’t get enough of your flavor. “Yes,” he admits roughly. “She is.” The way he says it—almost reverently—makes you keen in embarrassment and arousal.

His chest vibrates with a pleased growl behind you. “Stand up, Seong-je,” he orders, a hint of anticipation in his tone. “You’ve earned a bit more than just a taste, haven’t you?”

Seong-je obeys instantly. He rises from his knees, wiping his slick chin with the back of his hand. As he stands to full height, you’re suddenly very aware of how imposing he is—broad shoulders and lean muscle, his chest heaving beneath that open school shirt speckled with blood. There’s something wild in his eyes, even as he stands awaiting further instruction. And then there’s the not-so-small matter of the straining tent at the front of his trousers.

Your eyes drop almost involuntarily, and your breath catches. The outline of his erection presses hard against the dark fabric, looking almost painfully constrained. A rush of heat floods you at the realization that you’re about to feel that inside you.

Your boyfriend follows your gaze and clicks his tongue. “That looks uncomfortable.” The teasing lilt in his voice makes your cheeks burn. “Why don’t you help him out, darling?” He releases you from his supporting arm and steps aside, allowing you to move freely. “On your knees,” he adds, a razor’s edge of command under the smooth words.

Your stomach flips at what he’s suggesting. You drop to your knees on the carpet without hesitation, settling in front of Seong-je’s feet. He sucks in a breath, and his hands flex at his sides as if unsure where to put them. Eye level with his hips now, you reach up with trembling fingers to unbuckle his belt. The metal clasp is sticky with half-dried blood, and it takes a moment to undo with how your own hands are shaking in anticipation.

He looks down at you with astonishment and raw desire. “You don’t have to, doll.” he begins, voice strangled, but Baek-jin cuts him off.

“She wants to,” Baek-jin drawls, confidence in every syllable. He slides to sit on the edge of the armchair directly to your right, clearly deciding to enjoy the show from a more comfortable position. “Don’t you, baby?”

You glance to him. He’s leaning back, one hand lightly massaging the obvious bulge in his slacks as he watches you and his right hand. The sight of Baek-jin palming himself through his pants while he observes you preparing to suck another man’s cock—at his own command, no less—makes you whimper aloud. Your thighs rub together unconsciously. Turning back to Seong-je, you unzip his trousers with a slow, deliberate pull. “I do,” you answer finally, looking up at Seong-je from under your lashes. “I want to taste you.”

Seong-je curses under his breath, hips instinctively canting forward. You tug his pants and underwear down in one go, and his cock springs free, nearly smacking your cheek. You gasp softly, eyes widening at the sight before you. He’s… big. Not that you hadn’t expected it—he is built like a brawler after all, tall and muscular—but the rigid length in front of you exceeds what you’d guessed from touch alone. Long, thick, curving slightly toward his stomach, flushed dark at the swollen tip and already leaking a bead of moisture. A subtle musky scent hits your nose, masculine and intoxicating.

“Holy shit,” you breathe in awe, your tongue instinctively wetting your lips. You hear Baek-jin chuckle softly at your reaction.

Seong-je looks almost bashful for a split second, as if he’d apologize for his size, but any words die as you reach up and wrap your small hand around the base of his cock. His girth strains your fingers; he’s like heated steel wrapped in velvet. He groans, a deep animalistic sound, as your hand gives a gentle experimental stroke upward. The slick of his precum helps glide your hand, and his cock twitches in your grasp.

“Is it to your liking?” Baek-jin asks, mocking politeness, as if asking about a dish he suggested you try. You turn your head to respond and find his gaze laser-focused on the sight of you kneeling with Seong-je’s cock in hand. He looks ravenous, lips parted slightly as he breathes a little faster.

In response, you lean forward and swirl your tongue over the bead of precum on Seong-je’s tip, collecting it into your mouth. It’s salty, male, not unpleasant. You hum at Baek-jin, “Mmm.” Then you flash him a wicked little smirk and say, “Delicious.”

His eyes darken further. “What a polite girl,” he muses, voice thick with arousal. “Showing your gratitude so sweetly.”

Seong-je can barely stand still. His hands hover near your head, as if itching to grab your hair but not daring to without permission. “P-please…” he whispers, directing it to either you or your lover or both, you’re not sure. His thighs tremble with the effort not to thrust into your fist.

You decide to put him out of his misery. Maintaining eye contact with Baek-jin for a bold moment—because you know it drives him wild—you finally turn fully to the task and take Seong-je’s cock into your mouth.

You start slow, wrapping your lips around the sensitive head and sucking gently. The taste of him floods your tongue. He chokes out a broken moan, his hips jerking involuntarily. Encouraged, you bob a little further, taking more of him inch by inch. Your jaw stretches wide to accommodate his girth, but you relish the slight ache. One hand pumps the base that you can’t fit yet, and your tongue presses along the underside of his shaft on each forward motion.

“Fuck, fuck…” he chants under his breath. Unable to resist, he entangles one hand in your hair, not pushing, just holding on as if to ground himself from the pleasure. His other hand grips the arm of the couch beside him, knuckles white.

Baek-jin’s voice slides over you like silk. “How does her mouth feel?”

Seong-je groans, eyes squeezed shut as if he might lose control just from the memory of not speaking dirty. “So warm… so fucking good. So—ah—tight and wet.” His breathing is ragged. “Better than I—fuck—ever imagined.”

A rush of pride courses through you at his babbling. Hollowing your cheeks, you take him deeper, swallowing around his tip as it nudges the back of your throat. He outright curses, his fingers tightening in your hair. Tears prick your eyes from the effort, but you don’t let up. You begin a steady rhythm: suck, swirl your tongue around the head, then slide down as far as you can manage before pulling back. Saliva gathers at the corners of your mouth, dripping down to your hand and his shaft, slicking your strokes. The lewd, wet sounds of your slurping fill the room along with his uncontrolled grunts.

“Look at you,” Baek-jin murmurs appreciatively. You flick your eyes up to see him palming himself harder through his pants, clearly restraining his own needs while he watches. “Taking his cock like a good little slut.” The degradation in his tone is deliberate and it makes you whine around Seong-je’s length, the vibration drawing a strangled cry from above. You love when he talks to you like that, and he knows it. It sends a pulse of arousal straight to your core.

“S-shit—she is,” Seong-je gasps, echoing Baek-jin’s words without thinking. “Such a slutty mouth… so perfect…” He looks down then, meeting your gaze, his eyes blown wide with lust and adoration. “Your mouth is perfect,” he says more softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek where a tear of effort escaped. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.” The raw sincerity in his tone melts you, and you reward him by taking him even deeper, straining your throat until you gag lightly around him.

“Christ!” he snarls, head falling back. “I-I’m close—”

“Stop.” Baek-jin’s command cuts through the haze immediately. You and Seong-je both react on instinct; you freeze, and he stills his hips, though every muscle in his body is taut and quivering with the need for release.

You slowly, reluctantly ease your mouth off his cock, releasing it with a lewd pop. You’re panting hard, saliva trailing from your swollen lips to his slick length. He whimpers at the loss of your warmth. His cock is throbbing angry-red, so wet with your spit it gleams. A string of saliva still connects the tip to your lower lip, and you quickly lick it up, which makes his cock twitch again.

He looks wrecked, like he might cry with frustration. “B-Baek-jin,” he pleads, voice wrecked and desperate. “Please…”

Baek-jin merely smiles that wolfish smile. “Not yet. I didn’t say you could cum, did I?” His tone is almost playful, but holds steel underneath. Seong-je shakes his head, chest heaving, trying to regain control. He still hasn’t moved his hand from your hair, as though afraid letting go will mean this all ends.

“As hard as it is to believe,” Baek-jin continues wryly, “that was not the main event.” He stands up from the chair now, coming to stand beside you. With gentle but firm pressure on your shoulder, he urges you back to your feet. Your knees are a bit numb from the floor, and you wobble. Baek-jin steadies you, then pulls you flush against his side. “You did well,” he praises quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Seong-je watches the tender gesture with longing, chest still rising and falling rapidly. His cock juts out from his open pants, slick and quivering, neglected for the moment.

Baek-jin follows your gaze to Seong-je’s predicament and smirks. “Don’t worry. We’re not done.” He guides you back a step. Then, taking you by the shoulders, he turns you around to face the armchair. In one swift motion, he pushes you forward, bending you over the arm of the padded chair. You gasp, gripping the seat cushion to brace yourself.

You’re now bent at the waist, your ass facing Seong-je and your upper body supported by the chair. Your skirt, which was already rucked up around your waist, is no hindrance at all—your bare ass and soaked pussy are presented to the open air.

Baek-jin’s hand caresses down your spine soothingly. “Comfortable?” he asks, almost casually. The velvet of the armchair presses against your cheek as you nod. You wiggle your hips a little, silently begging for what’s next.

Seong-je makes a tortured sound somewhere behind you. “Oh, fuck me,” he groans at the sight of you bent over, practically dripping for him. “Please, Baek-jin… I—?”

Baek-jin cuts him off with a dark chuckle. “Yes, I think it’s time.” He steps aside then, allowing Seong-je a full, unobstructed view of you. “There you go, Seong-je. She’s all yours. One night only.”

You peer over your shoulder, desire making your limbs tremble with anticipation. Seong-je stands a couple feet away, looking almost afraid to approach, as if you’re some mirage that will disappear. His cock is still out, flushed and hard and so ready it almost hurts to look at.

Baek-jin notices his hesitance and adds in a low, warning tone, “This is what you wanted. Now take it.” A beat, and then, “Fuck her.” The vulgar command sends a thrill shooting through you straight to your core.

That does it. He surges forward with a growl, both hands coming to grip your waist from behind. His touch is rough and feverish, fingers digging into your flesh as if to assure himself you’re real. You push back against him instinctively, raising your hips a little higher, presenting yourself for the taking.

“God, you’re perfect,” Seong-je pants. His hands roam over your ass, squeezing, then sliding down to your soaked center. With one hand, he spreads your lips, groaning at the sight of your cunt clenching on nothing. “So wet… Was this all for me?” He sounds genuinely astonished.

You manage a breathless laugh. “Yes, … all for you.” Your voice comes out needy as hell. “Please, I need you. Inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swears softly. One of his fingers dips into your entrance, gliding in easily from how embarrassingly slick you are. He pumps it a few times, and you moan, pushing back, wanting more. He adds a second, stretching you, and the slight burn feels divine. “You’re so tight,” he rasps, as your walls grip around his fingers. “How are you this tight…?”

Baek-jin’s voice comes from somewhere to your right, tight with lust. “She can take it.” There’s a hint of a smirk in his tone. “Believe me, she can take it all.”

Your cheeks burn at the implication, but it only makes you more eager to prove him right. “I can,” you moan, echoing Baek-jin’s words. You twist to glance back at Seong-je. “I want you. Fuck me hard, Seong-je… I—I can take it, I promise.”

Whatever shred of control he had been clinging to snaps. He withdraws his fingers abruptly, grabbing your hips in both hands. You feel the hot, blunt tip of his cock prod against your entrance, sliding through your folds to coat itself in your arousal. The sensation makes your breath hitch. He’s shaking slightly; you can feel the tremor in his grip on you.

Baek-jin steps closer to the chair, wanting the best view. He places a hand on your upper back and presses you down a little more, arching your spine deeper. “Keep your eyes on me, love,” he tells you. You turn your head to the side, meeting his gaze as best you can from your bent position. His face is flushed, hair falling into his eyes. He looks utterly enthralled, chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Eyes on me while he fucks you.”

You nod hazily, locking onto Baek-jin’s intense stare. This is the moment you’d all been building to, and your man doesn’t want to miss a flicker of your expression.

Behind you, Seong-je lines himself up, the tip pushing insistently at your entrance. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” His voice is a shaky whisper, as if asking your permission even now.

“Do it,” you breathe, needing him so badly it hurts. “Fuck me, Seong-je.”

With a strained groan, he presses forward, and the thick head of his cock breaches you. Even as wet and prepared as you are, the stretch is intense, bordering on pain. He’s larger than your body expected, and your walls protest the sudden intrusion with a burn that quickly melts into fierce pleasure.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry; Baek-jin’s hand on your back soothes gently, but his eyes blaze with excitement at seeing you take Seong-je’s cock. He inches forward, sinking in slowly, inch by inch. His fingers tremble on your hips, sweat dripping from his brow onto your lower back. “Oh, fuck—” he grits out. “So… damn… tight.”

You feel every bit of him as he fills you, the pressure incredible. He pauses halfway, chest heaving. “Are you okay?” he manages, voice tight as a bowstring.

You nod frantically, pushing your hips back to encourage him further. “Yes… more… please…” The pain of the stretch has already transformed into a white-hot pleasure that radiates through your abdomen.

With a guttural moan, he thrusts the rest of the way in, bottoming out inside you. You both cry out as his hips smack against your ass. The feeling of fullness is overwhelming—you feel like you’re being split in two and yet you crave it desperately. He’s buried to the hilt, throbbing deep inside you.

“Shit!” His shout echoes as he stills, completely embedded. “You’re— I can’t— fuck, you’re squeezing me so much,” he gasps, voice wrecked. You can feel his thighs quivering against yours, the restraint it’s taking him not to cum immediately from the tight heat of your cunt enveloping him.

Your fingers claw at the cushion of the chair as you adjust to his size, nails digging into the fabric. “So… big,” you whimper, the fullness bordering on too much, but deliciously so. Your body flutters around him, trying to accommodate.

Baek-jin’s hand strokes down your hair, gentle in contrast to the feral act. “You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “Taking all of him. Such a good little slut for us, hm?”

His degrading praise sends a rush of arousal straight to your core, and you clench involuntarily around Seong-je.

“Jesus,” he chokes, his fingers flexing on your hips. “C-can I move? Please… I can’t—” His voice is strained, pleading.

“Yes,” you and Baek-jin say at the same time, though his tone carries the weight of permission. “Fuck her,” he reiterates, low and rough.

Seong-je pulls out halfway, the drag of his cock along your slick walls making you both moan, then he thrusts back in, harder this time. The force knocks a grunt from your lungs and shoves the armchair a couple inches forward on the floor. “Ohh—!” you cry out, pleasure and a sweet burn mixing as he sets a tentative rhythm.

He pumps in and out shallowly at first, each movement sending sparks of sensation dancing up your spine. With every thrust, a lewd squelch of your soaked pussy fills the air, evidence of just how absolutely drenched you are for him.

“Faster,” you beg, meeting his next thrust by rocking back. The initial ache has given way to pure bliss, your body craving more. “Fuck me harder, Seong-je… please…”

Groaning something unintelligible, Seong-je complies. His fingers dig in almost bruisingly and he begins to slam into you in earnest. The pace he sets is brutal and hungry—months of pent-up longing poured into every snap of his hips. He drives into you deep and rough, and it feels so damn good you think you might scream.

Your tits bounce against the armchair with each of his thrusts, the coarse fabric rubbing your hardened nipples through your tank top. The chair’s legs screech against the floor from the force of his pounding, but none of you care. Seong-je is panting like an animal, his breath coming in harsh grunts each time he plunges into your welcoming heat. “You feel… unreal,” he growls, voice ragged. “So fucking perfect on my cock—shit—”

The room echoes with the sharp slaps of skin on skin as he fucks you with abandon. You feel a droplet of sweat run down your temple; he’s working up a sweat too, the effort of restraining himself and pleasuring you making his body gleam.

Your boyfriend hasn’t looked away from your face. You hold his gaze as best you can, your own vision blurring with tears of ecstasy. He looks absolutely debauched, one hand rubbing the prominent bulge in his slacks in slow strokes, the other occasionally reaching out to caress your cheek or throat lovingly as you’re railed from behind.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks in a velvety murmur, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Getting fucked by our loyal dog?” His words are filthy, but the underlying tone is almost affectionate.

“So good—ah—so fucking good,” you babble, no longer caring what comes out of your mouth. “He’s so deep—” A sharp thrust steals your words, your eyes rolling back briefly.

He smirks, clearly satisfied by your answer and the wrecked look on your face. “Look at you. You love this, don’t you?” His thumb slips into your mouth and you instinctively suck on it, eyes fluttering. “Being filled by a cock other than mine, while I watch. Such a nasty little thing.” There’s a dangerous edge of delight in his voice.

You whimper around his thumb, nodding as tears slip down your cheeks from the intensity of it all. Maybe you never consciously admitted it before, but yes—you love this. The depravity, the intensity, the way Baek-jin’s presence and Seong-je’s desperate passion combine to leave you utterly limp with ecstasy. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

Seong-je changes the angle slightly, hooking one of his hands around the front of your thigh to pull your leg up a bit, opening you even further. The next plunge hits a spot inside you that makes you see stars. You scream, fingers scrambling for purchase on the chair.

“There, huh?” he pants, having felt your reaction. He pistons his hips, now aiming for that spot with each stroke, and your screams turn to incoherent moans. Your entire body feels like it’s glowing, nerves lit up from head to toe.

Baek-jin withdraws his thumb from your mouth and instead grips your chin, keeping you facing him. “Don’t close your eyes,” he orders softly. “I want to see everything.” His own composure is fraying; you can see his chest rising faster, the way he’s pressing down harder on his own erection as he watches his friend pound into you.

You force your heavy lids to stay open, focusing on his face as a grounding point. It’s utterly erotic—the contrast of his relatively calm upper body and the frantic movement happening behind you. His eyes flick to something behind you for a moment and his lips curl.

He addresses Seong-je, voice dropping to that commanding register that could make grown men soil themselves. “Don’t you dare close your eyes either. Watch her.”

Seong-je’s growl of affirmation indicates he’s complying. He was likely already watching your body intently—where you’re joined, the bounce of your ass with each impact, the arch of your back. But at Baek-jin’s command, perhaps he lifts his gaze to your face.

“She’s so fucking beautiful, isn’t she?” He continues, a possessive pride coloring his tone. “Look at her. Look at what you do to her.”

Seong-je lets out a guttural groan in response. “Y-yes… she’s… ah—amazing.” His pace falters just a half-second, the emotional weight hitting him, but then he recovers and keeps driving into you, albeit with a new layer of reverence amid the roughness.

Your heart twists at his words even as your body is being used for pleasure. There’s so much love in what he said, in how he’s orchestrating this not just as a show of power but as a deeply perverse gift he enjoys giving. It makes you love him even more, impossibly.

Between the intense physical stimulation and the emotional high of this whole scenario, you feel another climax swiftly building. Each brutal thrust from Seong-je’s cock pushes you closer to that edge. Your toes curl against the floor, thighs quaking. The chair arm creaks under your grip.

“Ah—I’m—” you sob, eyes locked on Baek-jin’s through a haze of tears. “Jin, I’m gonna—oh—”

His eyes burn into yours. “Do it,” he encourages darkly. “Cum for us. Cum on his cock.” His hand slides down to grasp your throat lightly, not cutting off air but making you feel his hold. That small choke of pressure is the final catalyst.

With a wailing moan, you come undone. Your walls clamp around Seong-je like a vise, milking him. You convulse under him, vision whiting out as a tidal wave of ecstasy crashes over you. It’s even more powerful than the first orgasm, amplified by the feeling of utter fullness and the depravity of the act.

You scream his name—“Seong-je!—” and a string of incoherent profanities as pleasure wracks you. Your whole body shudders, knees nearly giving out. Hot gushes of fluid flood around his cock as your release splashes out; you’re dimly aware that you’re likely making a mess of both of you, but in the moment it only registers as toe-curling bliss.

“F-Fuck, she’s cumming—she’s—” his voice is wild, awed and desperate. Your orgasmic spasms clearly push him to the brink. He fights to keep pumping into you through your climax, but his thrusts turn erratic as your vice-like grip around him triggers his own end.

Baek-jin tightens his hold on your throat just a touch, forcing your eyes open through your overwhelming pleasure. “Look at me,” he commands. You do, your gaze bleary and fervent on his face as tears of pleasure stream down. He nods in satisfaction. “Good girl. Now, Seong-je,” he barks sharply, turning his attention to the man still pistoning into your trembling body. “Cum inside her. Now.”

At those words, Seong-je lets out something between a roar and a sob. He slams into you one final time, burying himself as deep as humanly possible. His entire body goes taut and you feel it—the hot rush of his release flooding your insides. He comes with shuddering, violent intensity, ropes of cum pulsing against your cervix, filling you to the brim. Seong-je’s fingers dig into your hips almost painfully as he holds you flush against him, as if trying to meld into you.

A guttural groan tears from his throat, seemingly endless, as he empties everything he has into your welcoming heat. You moan at the sensation—the wet warmth coating your insides, each pulse of his cock like a heartbeat against your sensitive walls. It’s obscene and utterly satisfying.

Baek-jin watches, chest rising and falling rapidly. His hand slowly releases your throat as Seong-je collapses over your back, spent. “That’s it…” he says in a low, soothing voice, almost cooing at the both of you. “Fill her up. Good job.”

Seong-je is practically whimpering as the last spurts of his orgasm taper off. “T-thank you… thank you…” he rasps brokenly, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, his body trembling with aftershocks. You’re not even sure if he knows what he’s saying, if he’s thanking Baek-jin or you or some deity of fortune—maybe all of the above.

You breathe in ragged gasps, your body limp and utterly wrecked, pinned beneath Seong-je who still hasn’t moved. You feel completely at peace in that hazy, blissed-out way, even as your cunt aches from the stretch and your combined juices trickle warm and sticky down your thighs.

The room is silent except for the heavy breathing of all three of you. Finally, Baek-jin breaks the quiet with a gentle clearing of his throat. “Seong-je,” he says, not unkindly.

He stirs as if waking from a dream. He realizes he’s practically draped over you and quickly straightens with a murmured apology. Carefully, he withdraws from you, and all three of you groan softly at the sensation—your oversensitive walls twitch at the drag, and his softening cock slips free with a lewd wet sound. A gush of his creamy spend immediately follows, spilling out of you and dripping viscously down your inner thighs.

He makes a strangled noise as he sees it. Even Baek-jin’s eyes flare at the sight of your thoroughly fucked pussy leaking with another man’s cum. You flush, instinctively moving to close your legs, but his hand on your ass cheek stops you.

“Don’t,” he says. He kneels down slightly behind you to inspect the decadent mess. You can feel his gaze like a physical touch. With one finger, he swipes up a droplet of the fluid that’s running down your thigh. Between your utterly used state, his dominant care, and your lingering high, you can only whine softly at the sensation.

He chuckles and then—to both yours and Seong-je’s astonishment—he brings that finger to your mouth. Gently, he taps it on your lower lip. “Open,” he murmurs.

You obey, parting your lips. He slips the finger inside, and you taste it: a mix of Seong-je’s salty seed and your own tangy essence. It’s filthy and intimate and so arousing even in your exhaustion that you moan around his finger, dutifully licking it clean without being asked twice.

“Good girl,” Baek-jin whispers, eyes heavy-lidded. He withdraws his finger once satisfied and stands upright again.

Seong-je looks like he can’t believe his eyes, clearly aroused by the sight despite having just cum. But as reality seeps back in, he also looks uncertain, concerned even. His gaze flits between you and Baek-jin, trying to gauge the aftermath. His pants are still around his thighs, his cock now soft but still slick with your combined fluids.

The atmosphere shifts slightly—still warm, but the raw lust is ebbing, making space for other emotions. Satisfaction, relief, a hint of awkwardness perhaps.

You gingerly push yourself upright from the armchair. Your legs protest, wobbly from exertion, and you have to grab the chair back to steady yourself. Immediately, Seong-je steps forward, zipping up his pants hurriedly and reaching as if to help you stand, concern etched on his face.

Baek-jin is quicker. He loops an arm around your waist, pulling your spent body against his solid frame. “Careful,” he murmurs, brushing damp hair from your face. His other hand slides down to tug your rumpled skirt back over your hips, a gesture of modesty now that the deed is done.

You lean into him, melting into his familiar scent and hold. He’s always run hot, and right now his body heat and steady heartbeat against your side feel like home. A sudden wave of emotion wells in you—love, reassurance, an almost delirious giddiness that the three of you came through that intense encounter intact.

Seong-je stands a foot away, hands twitching at his sides, unsure where he’s allowed to touch or if he should even speak. His gaze lingers on you with naked tenderness and worry. “Are you… alright?” he asks softly. “Did I hurt you?”

His earnestness tugs at your heart. You manage a tired smile. “I’m okay, Seong-je. Just… a little sore.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “In a good way.”

He exhales, relief evident. “Good. I— I’m glad.” He rubs the back of his neck, clearly still processing everything that just happened, the post-nut clarity perhaps bringing a dose of nerves. “That was… I mean… thank you,” he stammers, directing the gratitude to the both of you. “I don’t even… I can’t express—”

Baek-jin holds up a hand, stopping his babbling. There’s a faint smile on his lips, almost fond. “Consider your reward accepted, then,” he says lightly. His arm around you tightens a fraction, a subtle signal: we’re returning to normalcy now.

Seong-je straightens, nodding. The dynamic is shifting back; Baek-jin is clearly reasserting his usual authority in the aftermath. But there’s a newfound respect and camaraderie in his eyes as he regards his leader—and also a lingering awe when he glances at you.

You feel Baek-jin’s lips press to your temple in a gentle kiss. “You were amazing,” he whispers just for you, low and full of love. “So perfect for me.”

Your chest swells with affection. Exhausted and sex-drunk, you turn in his arm and wrap your own around his torso, nuzzling into him. The slight stickiness of sweat and the faint copper smell of blood from his earlier wounds are still there, but none of it bothers you. He’s yours.

He strokes your back soothingly, then eyes Seong-je, who still waits as if unsure what to do now. “Go get a towel, will you?” He says, nodding toward the small bathroom attached to the living space. “Wet it with warm water.”

Seong-je blinks, then immediately moves to obey. He disappears into the bathroom, leaving you and your boyfriend briefly alone.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Baek-jin tilts your face up to his. His expression is tender in a way he rarely shows outside of private moments. “How do you feel?” he asks softly, searching your eyes.

A wave of emotion washes through you. How do you even articulate how you feel? Physically, you’re deliciously sore, every muscle relaxed and boneless. Emotionally, you’re absolutely sated and maybe a bit overwhelmed. But most of all, you feel loved. Loved and known in a way that’s staggering.

“I feel…” you bite your lip, giving him a warm, tired smile. “Incredible. Loved. And very, very tired.” You chuckle weakly.

His face lights with a small genuine smile—one of those rare smiles that reach his eyes. “You are loved,” he says quietly, brushing your lower lip with his thumb where you worried it. He then glances down, and his smile turns into a faint grimace as he takes in the state of you: your inner thighs sticky with evidence of what transpired, bruises already starting to form on your hips where Seong-je held you, the smear of mascara from your tears. He runs his thumb gently under one of your eyes, wiping a smudge away. “My poor girl,” he murmurs affectionately. “What a mess you are.”

You huff a soft laugh, leaning into his hand. “Worth it,” you whisper.

His eyes darken with something akin to reverence. He dips his head and captures your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss—so different from the hungry ones earlier. It’s full of love and gratitude. You sigh into it, kissing him back tenderly.

When you part, Seong-je is just emerging with a damp towel. He averts his eyes slightly, as if worried he’s intruding on an intimate moment. Baek-jin doesn’t seem bothered; he beckons Seong-je over with a slight tilt of his head.

The boy approaches, holding out the warm, wet towel uncertainly. Baek-jin takes it from him, then crouches down in front of you. To your surprise, he himself gently spreads your thighs. You flush with embarrassment as he carefully wipes the mess from your skin, cleaning the stickiness of cum and arousal smeared there. He’s uncharacteristically tender with the motion, businesslike yet caring.

Seong-je watches, shifting on his feet. “I-I can do that—” he offers hesitantly, perhaps feeling awkward that his boss is cleaning up his spend.

“I’ve got her,” Baek-jin replies calmly, not unkindly but with finality. He finishes wiping between your thighs, then tosses the towel onto the coffee table. His hand caresses your outer thigh reassuringly as he stands back up.

That simple statement—I’ve got her—speaks volumes. Seong-je seems to understand. He nods, stepping back a respectful pace. The reality of the roles re-establishing themselves is almost palpable in the air. He is the right-hand man again, loyal and content, and Baek-jin is the one who holds you.

A heavy silence lingers for a moment. He clears his throat, a bit nervously. “Thank you,” he says again, quietly earnest. His gaze flickers between you two. “To both of you. I… I won’t ever forget this.”

You give him a soft, reassuring smile. “Neither will we.”

Baek-jin inclines his head. “You’ve earned it.” There’s a subtle finality in his tone, like closing a chapter. He then must notice Seong-je’s busted lip again and the dried blood on his face from earlier, because he gestures. “Now, go wash up properly. Get some rest. We’ll debrief tomorrow.”

It’s a gentle dismissal. Seong-je hesitates, eyes lingering on you one last time. There’s a flicker of emotion there—gratitude, affection, perhaps even love in its own way—but he tamps it down and offers a small bow of respect to Baek-jin, then to you. “Goodnight… boss. Goodnight… and thank you,” he says again softly to you.

“Goodnight, Seong-je,” you reply warmly.

With that, he gathers his jacket from the floor and quietly slips out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Silence settles in his absence. Only the hum of the refrigerator and the muffled sounds of the city night beyond the window remain.

Baek-jin exhales, the tension of performance leaving his body. He turns to you, and immediately his hands are on you—one cupping your cheek, the other resting on your hip. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks, brow furrowed slightly in concern now that no one else is around.

You lean into his palm, covering it with your own. “I promise. A little sore, a little exhausted, but I’m more than okay.” You grin cheekily despite your fatigue. “That was… well, it was insane. But in the best way.”

He chuckles, relief evident in the way he presses his forehead to yours. “Yes, it was certainly that.” He closes his eyes, and you stay like that for a moment, simply sharing breath, absorbing each other’s presence.

After a beat, he pulls back and his gaze flits downward. “I should get you cleaned up more and into bed. You need rest.” Ever the caretaker beneath his rough exterior, at least for you.

You hum in agreement. Every bone in your body feels like jelly. A hot shower and curling up with him in bed sounds like heaven.

As he guides you towards the bathroom, you limp slightly, wincing at the ache between your legs. He notices and gently scoops you up into his arms without warning. You yelp in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck. “I can walk!” you protest weakly, though truthfully you relish being babied by him.

“Shh,” he chastises softly, carrying you bridal-style with ease despite having fought earlier and indulged in strenuous extracurriculars. “Let me take care of my girl.”

My girl. Those two words are a balm, erasing any lingering doubt or insecurity that might have tried to creep in post-encounter. You rest your head against his shoulder as he carries you into the bathroom.

He sets you down on the closed toilet seat carefully. As he turns to start the shower and adjust the water temperature, you watch him with a content smile. He catches you staring and arches a brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say softly. “Just… I love you.” The words come out quietly but firmly.

His expression gentles. He steps back over and tilts your chin up. “I love you,” he replies, and in his voice you hear the depth of his devotion, obsessive and profound. It makes your heart flutter. He kisses you once more—slow, languid, reassuring.

The shower steam begins to billow around you, warm and inviting. He helps you undress fully, peeling off your rumpled tank top and unclasping your bra with practiced ease. As he slides the straps down your arms, he pauses to press tender kisses to the marks on your shoulder and neck—some from Seong-je’s earlier fervor, some older from Baek-jin himself. Each brush of his lips seems to silently say mine, mine, mine.

He peels your skirt off, and what’s left of your shredded panties falls to the tile floor. He huffs a faint laugh, picking the ruined lace up with a finger. “I liked these,” he comments idly.

You giggle, feeling a blush warm your cheeks. “You would be sentimental about the underwear you tore off me like a caveman.”

He smirks, tossing the scrap aside. “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Then he cups your bare sex gently, making you jolt. He’s just feeling the heat there, the tenderness. “Maybe I’ll keep these as a souvenir,” he adds wickedly.

You swat at his arm half-heartedly, laughing, and he finally stops teasing, helping you into the shower. The hot water cascading over sore muscles is pure bliss. He steps in behind you after shedding his own clothes, and pulls you back against his chest under the spray.

For a while, you both just stand there under the water, arms wrapped around each other. The heat soothes the aches, and being enclosed in Baek-jin’s embrace soothes everything else.

He washes your body with gentle thoroughness, massaging shampoo into your hair, lathering soap over every inch of your skin with his strong hands. It’s not sexual; it’s intimate care. Occasionally you both steal soft kisses or share a quiet chuckle when he notes a particularly dramatic bruise or love bite. When he finds a clear imprint of teeth at the crook of your neck, courtesy of Seong-je, his eyes darken and he nips next to it, overlaying his own mark right beside as if reclaiming territory. You squeal at the sharpness but then melt as he soothes it with his tongue.

After you’re clean and warm, he dries you off tenderly with a fluffy towel, then dries himself quickly. You slip on one of his oversized t-shirts, too tired for anything else, and he pulls on a pair of sweatpants, foregoing a shirt.

Finally, he lifts you again and carries you to bed. The moment you lie down on the cool sheets with Baek-jin sliding in beside you, a deep sigh of relief escapes you. Your body is heavy and deliciously sated.

He switches off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into soft darkness. The faint glow of the city through the curtains outlines his profile as he turns toward you, gathering you into his arms. You happily curl into him, head on his chest, one leg thrown over his hip.

For a time, you just listen to the steady beating of his heart. It’s a comforting rhythm, lulling you toward sleep. His fingers trace idle patterns on your back.

Just as you’re about to drift off, his quiet voice rumbles under your ear. “Was it really okay? Truly?” There’s a vulnerability in the question—almost imperceptible, but you know him too well to miss it.

You prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him through the dim light. He’s staring at the ceiling, jaw tight, as if worried now in the aftermath that he might have pushed you too far or… hurt something between you.

Tenderly, you reach out and run your fingers through his damp hair. He finally meets your gaze, and you see it: the flicker of fear that perhaps you’ll think differently of him or of yourself now.

“It was more than okay, my love,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the spot over his heart. “You were right there with me the whole time. I never felt for a second that I wasn’t yours.” The words spill softly but surely. “I loved every second of it… because it was what you wanted, what we wanted. And because you were in control, I felt safe.”

He exhales, tension bleeding out of him. His arm around you tightens, hugging you close. “Good,” he murmurs. “I— I wouldn’t have done it if I thought it would hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you say without hesitation. “I trust you completely.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, looking immeasurably relieved. When he opens them, some of the usual sly confidence is creeping back in. “And… if I said I enjoyed it too?” he asks quietly, a bit of wryness in his tone.

You grin. “I think that was pretty obvious.”

He huffs a soft laugh and nudges you. “Bold of you, little minx.” A comfortable silence, then, “It was definitely a one-time thing. I don’t intend on sharing you like that again.”

Surprise flickers through you at his sudden seriousness, but it’s a comforting kind of serious. “No?”

He shakes his head. “No. This was… special circumstances. A reward for a very loyal ally. And a bit of a test.” His thumb strokes your arm.

“A test?”

He smirks slightly. “Of my own restraint, perhaps. Of trust. And… maybe a gift to you as well, since you clearly enjoyed teasing him all this time.” His tone carries a teasing accusation.

You bite your lip, not denying it. “Well… it certainly was one hell of a gift,” you admit with a soft laugh. “But you’re right. This isn’t something I need to repeat. I only need you, Baek-jin.”

He seems pleased with that answer. He rolls you both so that you’re on your side facing each other under the covers, noses nearly touching. “And I only need you,” he replies, voice a low murmur in the dark.

You snuggle into him, tangling your legs together. “I’m glad we did it, though,” you add, trailing your fingertips across his bare chest. “In a strange way, I feel even closer to you now. Is that silly?”

He tilts your chin up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Not silly. I feel it too.” His dark eyes bore into yours, sincere and unguarded in the privacy of night. “Watching you, trusting you… it only made me love you more. You’re everything to me.”

Your heart swells so much you think it might burst. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, hugging him fiercely. “I love you, Na Baek-jin,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion.

He holds you just as tight. “And I love you. Always.”

With that final reassurance, you both let the exhaustion take over. Your breathing slows; his does too. Safe in each other’s arms, the world fades.

As you drift off, one last image floats through your mind: Baek-jin’s intense eyes locked on yours while Seong-je moved inside you, the feeling of being utterly possessed and yet completely cherished in the same moment. A shiver of remembered pleasure and emotion runs through you.

One night only. One night that was more than enough.

Before sleep claims you, you press a soft kiss to his throat and whisper a silent thank you into his skin—for his trust, for his love, for everything. He murmurs in his sleep, pulling you even closer.

Your eyes close, and you slip into dreams filled with gentle darkness and the steady heartbeat of the man who owns you—body, heart, and soul. The man who, even in sharing you, never let you forget that you are, and always will be, his.

#na baek jin x reader #na baekjin #weak hero class fanfic #weak hero x reader #weak hero smut #na baek jin smut #geum seong je x reader #geum seong je #geum seong je smut

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heyimkana · 2 months ago

Text

Limerence (1/2)

AO3 Link

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo X Female Reader

Genre: YANDERE, smut, fluff

Summary: Being madly in love with your fiancée made you stay ignorant of the alarming signs Jinwoo had shown throughout the four years of your relationship with him. It was only until one incident happened that you realized that beneath his sweet smile and gentle demeanor lay a monster begging to be set free.

Content Warnings: graphic description of murder, gore, sexual scenes, implied sexual assault attempt (not by Jinwoo), severe obsession, power imbalance, emotional manipulation, dacryphilia

Word Count: 9K

@princeizuku wanted me to write Yandere!Jinwoo so this one's for you, Tina, I love you, baby 😘❤️

This is a test, one that you don’t realize until it’s all too late.

It will only dawn on you later, once you have your feet shackled, your hands bound, and your mouth gagged, that it is never a coincidence that your fiancée, Sung Jinwoo, who’s always been so strict about not letting you out of his apartment without permission, left the front door unlocked this morning. It is a test of your loyalty, of your obedience. A test that will reward you with every nice thing the world could offer—a shelf full of your favorite books, dozens of pretty clothes, exquisite pieces of jewelry, and pleasure after pleasure in bed—if you agree to keep your oath to stay still in your room like the good girl he expects you to be.

But you don’t plan on doing that, do you? You want to give in to temptation. You want to chase after your freedom, to live in a world where he doesn’t have his black wings wrapped around you. As you’re not aware that it’s a trial he gives you, another heartless game he plays, you do just that, leading you to fail the test.

And every failure bears its own consequences.

***

You think it’s a miracle when you feel the doorknob turn beneath your fingers, not knowing that this is the beginning of what will be the worst mistake of your life. After passing through so many attempts, so many days and nights where you tried to unlock it without him knowing, you were so close to giving up. You didn’t even bother to try at first. After all, Jinwoo would always ensure you were locked and secured inside his penthouse, giving you nothing to do except wait for his return.

No matter how chaotic his schedule was, he would always come home in time, just a couple of hours after the sun had set below the horizon. And you would greet him with a kiss on the lips and your legs spread wide open the way you were supposed to, the way you had always done without fail in the last six months he’d been holding you captive.

Yet, for some reason today, perhaps out of habit, you find your feet dragging you back to the front door, mulling to yourself as to why your fiancée hasn't come home yet when it’s already an hour before midnight. There has been no text, no call. It was as if he had forgotten about you.

You almost laugh at the thought. Jinwoo will never forget about you. No matter how much you wish for him to. And that’s why you give it another try, your fingers twisting around the door handle, and suddenly… It clicks.

It clicks open.

It’s hard to believe that the world, as vast as it was, finally appears before you, completely yours to touch, to be lived in. It leaves you spellbound to your feet, unable to do anything but stare.

Then, your mind starts to gyrate.

Jinwoo must have forgotten to lock the door this morning. He was in a hurry, after all. What was it—a dungeon break, he said? That’s your first thought.

No, he’s not stupid enough to make such mistakes. He’s always meticulous when it comes to these things. But then why? Why is the door unlocked? That’s your second.

And as you grip the handle with a quivering hand and a thrashing heart, pushing the door open, your third thought sinks in, louder than the voice of the angel on your shoulder telling you to stay put.

Run.

It’s the only chance for you to escape, to retrieve the rights Jinwoo has taken away from you. It could be a trap, another warning echoes through your head, but with adrenaline pumping through your veins, your lungs breathing in the fresh air, your tongue so close to tasting the freedom you’ve yearned for, you decide to take the risk.

Anywhere is better than here. ***

Twenty-eight-year-old Sung Jinwoo, the guild master of the renowned Ahjin Guild, sits calmly in the quietude of his private office room with his black suit unbuttoned and his collar unfastened. His paperwork is left untouched, stacked into a pile, his mind revolving into something else entirely. Loosening his tie with one hand, he pushes back his raven locks with another, his smile gracing his lips. He leans back comfortably on his swivel chair, his legs spread, his elbow propped on its armrest. He’s watching his favorite show.

You.

“There she goes…” A small smirk tugs at his lips as he observes your every move, his cobalt blue eyes turning violet as he channels through his power. They gleam eerily in the darkness, radiant compared to the pale, silvery moonlight that bathes his equally pasty skin. If there’s one skill he’s eternally grateful for, it’s this—the ability to share senses with his shadow soldiers.

To share senses with the one he’s placed on you.

Through the eyes of his most powerful knight, Igris, he can feel a slight surge of amusement and excitement rising within him as he watches you run. You’re trying your best to flee the home you share together—the most expensive, gorgeous, sacred heaven he bought solely to be with you, to keep you trapped. Your gullible, foolish mind thinks you can escape him somehow, not knowing that he has eyes and ears everywhere, forgetting that the last time his prey tried to escape him, they were shredded to pieces simply by a flick of his hand.

But Jinwoo won’t hurt you. No, of course not. He loves you, adores you with every fiber of his being. He loves you, still, even now, even after you decided that the cruel world outside his embrace was better than the paradise he’d offered you. And he will continue to love you until the stars crumble to ashes.

That’s why he plans to keep you for eternity. Because he loves you.

It’s a shame, really, that you don’t see eye to eye. Instead of being grateful for the love he has given you, you choose to be terrified by the intensity of his affection, slipping away through his hand the second you find the chance simply because you think you’re not strong enough to handle being smothered by his love. But you are. You’ve always been more than enough.

No one could fit him better than you. No one could please him better than you do. You think you’re at your limit, but you aren’t. He knows you could take more of him, the same way you always did when he pushed into you at night, stretching your walls with his cock, molding you until you became the perfect sheath for him and him only. You always said it was too much, too big, too painful, but you always took him so well, didn't you? Clenching around him so tightly as if you never wanted to let him go.

Jinwoo has memorized every detail of you like the back of his hand. He knows what’s perfect for you: him. And you… You are the thread that keeps him sane. The center of his universe. Without you, he’ll let everything burn to the ground. Without you, he'll destroy the heavens himself.

And yet…

“I can’t believe you actually left me…” He brings his hand to his lips, veiling the sadistic grin that blossoms upon them. “After everything we’ve been through… After everything I’ve done for you…” He chuckles once, his gaze burning with the desire to dominate you. “You’re breaking my heart, Angel.”

He leans back in his chair, his strands rubbing against the headrest. Through his shared senses, he watches you break free from the elevator and sprint through the lobby without looking back. Jinwoo nibbles at the corner of his lip, his vile grin threatening to grow.

Run, Sweetheart. Run as fast as you can. Because once I get my hands on you…

His eyes flare, like purple torches shimmering in a black cave.

I’ll make sure you’ll never leave me again. ***

Run, the word continues to chime throughout the labyrinth of your mind as you burst into the cold night air, your body saturated by the city lights. Although freedom is now within your hands, no fragment of your soul is ready to celebrate. You’re still terrified, anxious, feeling like you were still imprisoned, dancing in his palm with blazing shoes.

I need to keep running. I need to be somewhere where he can’t find me.

But… where?

Jinwoo observes you intently, his body set aflame both by the fury of being betrayed and the thrill born from the things he plans to do to you once he gets his fingers wrapped around your throat again. He knows he'll have you back. He can catch you now if he wants to, but no, not yet. He craves to see more, to let you be happy with this freedom you thought you’d obtained on your own.

Because the happier you become, the easier he’ll break you down. Nothing hurts more than being entrapped in the crevice of hell after you descended from heaven.

And he’ll do it. Oh, he’ll break you apart until you can do nothing without him. He’ll make you grow so dependent on him until you’re left with no hope without his presence next to you, no desire to touch the outside world unless he guides you to. He won’t stop until you become his, entirely his—body, mind, and soul.

His smirk widens as he watches you run down concrete steps with nothing but your phone held tightly in your hand. You seem pathetic, adorably so. He can hear how your breathing starts to grow heavy, the untrained muscles in your legs begging you to slow down, to take a rest. Although you are oblivious to the fact that he’s closely monitoring your every move, you can feel dread chasing after you. You slip on the last tread, hissing at the pain bursting from your ankle. You didn’t break it, thank God, but it’s definitely sprained. Still, you refuse to give up.

You’re not yet certain where you should be running to; you just know that you have to before he returns to the neighborhood. You need to be as far away from his building as possible—from him—even if you had to chop one of your legs for it.

“Trying so hard to escape me… How cute,” Jinwoo utters aloud, his voice laced with mocking amusement at your little attempt. He enjoys watching you struggle, deriving some sadistic pleasure from witnessing the painful look on your face as your throat catches fire with each breath you take. He takes pleasure from it because he knows the more you hurt yourself, the more desperate you’ll be when you beg him to soothe you afterward.

That pain on your ankle… He wants to kiss it away. His lips will move gently against your skin before he maps his way up to your knee, your thigh, your soaking cunt, and he’ll torture you just like that, licking you nice and slow, leaving darker bruises than the one that blooms on your injury. He’ll watch you whimper, smiling in satisfaction when you start pleading with your eyes, needing him to give you something much thicker, much bigger than his tongue. And he won’t give it to you. No, he won’t do it until you cry. Until you crumble to your knees, seeking for his mercy with tear-stained cheeks. Until you promise him that you’ll never leave him again.

“Pretty. You’re gonna look so pretty for me, Angel,” he breathes out heavily, feeling himself harden beneath his trousers at the thought. "So fucking cute, begging for me to ruin you."

But he needs to be patient. The game has just started. ***

Beads of sweat drip off your chin as your skin is bitten by the cold of the frosty night. You’re so hasty in making your escape that you run only in the clothes Jinwoo had dressed you with—a beautiful white dress that brought your feminity to the surface.

White, he’s decided from the moment he laid eyes on you, is the perfect color for you. Purity, innocence, divinity—these are the words it represents, the terms he constantly uses to define you in his mind. He wears darkness like a cloak, but you are the blinding light that sheds it away from him. You are his new beginnings, the goddess he reveres. You’re not supposed to be tainted, but he’s a man eager to sin, and you’ll allow him, won’t you? You love to be stained by his hands, by his teeth. You look gorgeous in white, but you appear heavenly with purple roses blooming on your skin, ones that he bestowed with his mouth and fingertips.

Shivers run across your skin as your lungs burn inside. You look up at the night sky above you, velvet black with no diamonds in sight. Winter will soon blanket the earth with its pure white snow. You can already taste the ice in the air with each breath you take.

How much time has passed since I left his building? You’re not sure. But with no money in hand and no wallet set up on your phone, you can’t travel far. If only Jinwoo hadn’t confiscated your belongings, you would’ve had something to purchase a train ticket to return to your home. All you have now is the silver ring he’s placed around your finger.

I can trade it, but…

You shudder at the thought. Jinwoo has promised he’ll never hurt you, and he’s kept his word in the last six months he’s been confining you inside the walls of his penthouse. You trust him, believe him to the point that you’re still somewhat assured that he will take you back without harming you, even if he catches you right now. But if you dare to toss away the token of his love, of the vows you’d exchanged…

He’ll never forgive me.

The sight of your ring glinting beneath the yellowish glow of the street lamps causes you to recall the day when he sank down to one knee, proclaiming his eternal love for you. You said yes, didn’t you? Without a sliver of doubt, you agreed to his proposal, your smile blinding, elation permeating your chest.

Why? You chastise yourself now as you drown in regret. Why was I so stupid? That time, you were so hopelessly in love with him, your mind submerged in the state of sheer happiness that you thought would last forever.

Jinwoo was perfect. Before he unveiled the monster hidden inside him, he was everything you ever wanted. Tall and handsome, modest despite possessing God-like powers, and above all that, he was a kind, respectful man. He was always so gentle with you—so, so gentle—embracing you like a porcelain doll, refusing to touch you unless you permitted him to. Every kiss was featherlight until you deepened it. Every caress was soothing on your skin until you begged him to bruise you. Back then, you wanted to be his, didn't you? You wanted to be the only one who could satisfy him in every way, to be the only woman who could wear his mark on your skin like a badge of honor. You thought it would be the sweetest dream to be claimed by someone as divine as Sung Jinwoo.

Until one incident happened, and it all turned into a nightmare, one that was everlasting, like the shadow that trembled beneath his feet. ***

It began six months ago, the event that changed everything.

You were stuck in your office that night, trying to meet your deadline as quickly as possible. The hours had grown late. Amidst the frustration you held against yourself for not being fast enough to finish your reports, you gave your lover a quick call, apologizing for not being able to come home in time to celebrate your fourth anniversary together.

Jinwoo, the perfect lover that he was, had already spent hours preparing for the special night. A set of your favorite dishes had been served, styled to perfection by his own hands. Romantic candlelights decorated the dining table, the perfect company to the crystal vase filled with fresh lilies to match your everlasting beauty. He had prepared two tall glasses and a bottle of your preferred red wine dipped in ice for a nice, romantic chat in front of the fireplace. Dozens of presents, filled with the items on your wishlist, were hidden in places for you to seek. And if you hadn’t texted him to let you know that you had to spend another few hours trapped in your cubicle, your fiancée would’ve been there with a bouquet of roses to escort you home the second you were off work. Everything was planned to perfection, as that was what you deserved. A perfect night for someone as perfect as you.

And there you were, ruining everything.

“Jinwoo?”

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out, almost longingly. As if just the sound of his name spoken in your voice rendered him weak. “Hey. I was just thinking about you.”

He’d never left your mind, and that sensual, husky voice of his was one of the reasons why. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” you sighed into the phone, massaging the bridge of your nose as both fatigue and a heavy sense of guilt filled you to the brim. “I swear, I thought I could finish my report in an hour or two, but I made a mistake, and now I have to redo everything. I’m probably gonna be stuck here for another hour or two. Is that all right?”

There were two seconds of silence that doubled the weight of your regret, but then— “Are you safe? Do you need me to be there with you?” Those were the questions he always asked, the only things that mattered. Everything else could wait, even his own feelings.

Jinwoo could be in the middle of a perilous dungeon break, protecting the citizens from the starving beasts, and he would abandon everything at once if you so much as called his name, needing his presence. Your safety had always been his first and foremost priority.

However, as wonderful as it was, you often found it overwhelming, especially when you felt his shadow soldiers following your every step. That was why you made him promise not to place one on you, to give you a room to breathe. It was a proposition that he initially opposed, knowing it was the safest way to ensure your security, but he had also grown aware of how much your privacy mattered to you. He respected that. He trusted you. And, so, with a reluctant heart, he made his vow.

You believed him, the way you always did.

But what you didn't know was that in order to respect your privacy, he sacrificed everyone else’s.

Jinwoo had sent hundreds of soldiers to spy on anyone who could come in contact with you. Every family member, friend, co-worker, security guard, even a regular passerby, if they so much breathed in the air that you breathed, then a beast resided beneath their feet.

You promised him you'd be safe without him. He made sure you stayed true to your words.

“Yes, I’m safe,” you answered him through the phone. “Don’t worry. I’m just gonna be sitting here in my seat, doing these stupid reports.” And missing you badly.

“You should quit your job. I’ll provide everything for you.”

It wasn’t a jest. You knew he meant every word, but you tittered anyway. “Maybe I will, once you marry me.”

“Princess, I would marry you this second, you know that. Just say the words, and I’m yours.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering in delight. Honestly, taking a quick trip to the nearest church and pronouncing your vows in front of the priest and a janitor as your witness wouldn’t be too terrible if it meant you could spend the rest of your eternity with him. “I want to marry you, too, Jin. I wanna marry you right now, but…”

There was a quaver in his breath, his voice tight. “But..?”

“I think I’d prefer it better if my family could see me walking down the aisle in my wedding dress.” And seeing you standing so handsomely in your suit, waiting for me near the altar, watching me with devotion in your eyes, the way you always look at me… God, I would trade the world for it.

Jinwoo sighed, yearning for the image you envisioned. “You in a wedding dress, huh? That is indeed a sight worth waiting for.”

“That’s right,” you giggled. “So, should we postpone it for a bit? Until I can find a dress that fits?”

“You better not take too long. You know how impatient I could be, especially when it comes to you.” You could visualize his sultry smirk vividly in your mind. “Now that I’m picturing you in a wedding dress, all I can think about is ripping that same dress off you.”

“Jinwoo…” It was unfair how easily he could make you pine for him, your body needing his touch so desperately just from hearing his raspy voice. “Don’t distract me like this, please. I’ve got work to do.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice, despite still sounding as soft as silk, turned deep, drenched with desire. “I just wish you were here with me right now. I know we spend every night and every morning together, but today, I just… I miss you so badly. Maybe it’s because we’re celebrating our anniversary tonight, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day.”

You nibbled at your lip, sharing the same need. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, too.”

His breathing turned heavy before a confession followed. “It’s weird, I’ve never…” He tarried, a slight bashfulness growing evident in his voice. “I’ve never felt this way about someone before. You drive me crazy. It’s like I can’t live without you. I need you, Angel. Desperately so.”

Need, never want. He never craved you solely for your body. He needed you—your kindness, your smile, your kiss, your scent, your love, your everything.

“Come home, baby. Come home to me.”

You felt awful, devastated even, as you heard the wretchedness in his voice. It was your anniversary, for fuck’s sake, and you chose to stay miles apart from him instead of being in his embrace. And Jinwoo didn’t even complain about it, not questioning your actions, your decisions, just simply stating how much he longed for you. Would you have been so nice and understanding if you were in his shoes? If you had spent hours preparing for the perfect night just to see him cancel your plan at the last minute? It would’ve been difficult, for sure.

And that’s why I want to marry him so badly, you thought to yourself as gratitude glowed inside you. You couldn’t wait for the day to come, to have your heart etched with his name.

“I’ll finish this in an hour,” you uttered with a new set of determination. “I promise you.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything. I understand. I adore this side of you, too, how responsible and hardworking you are.” You could sense the proud smile in his voice, could envisage just how soft and beautiful it was. “Just make sure you’ll always be safe. And text me when you’re about to finish. I’ll pick you up.”

You felt so loved, so taken care of. “I will. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Mm. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

Home. You loved that word more than anything. It was an abrupt decision when you'd agreed to move in with him a year ago, a joyful burst of “Jinwoo, of course, I’d love to live with you,” to answer the invitation he'd proffessed with a soft blush permeating his cheeks. It was sudden, yes, but when you spoke your answer, you knew for certain that it was a choice you’d never regret. Because why would you, when you got to spend every second of every hour of your life with the man you loved?

“I love you, Jinwoo.”

“I love you, too, Angel.”

You ended the call, and it almost felt like a part of you died with it.

The clock was ticking fast. 09.42 PM. You looked over to the stack of unfinished reports. Can I really finish all of these in an hour?

“Oh, Noona. You’re still here.”

A younger co-worker—a handsome man with deep obsidian eyes, a radiant, sunshine-esque smile, and spikes in his raven hair—peeked his head inside your cubicle. Lee Minsung, his name was, and you remembered it by heart as he was always there to assist you with your work when everyone else chose to turn a blind eye.

He was a brilliant man. Humble and selfless, with a great sense of humor. Based on the rumors spreading throughout the building, he used to be an actor when he was younger, but his career went downhill after he was involved in a scandal. You didn’t care enough to dig into more details, but if he was indeed an actor, he certainly had the look for it.

Although he was popular among the women, for some reason, Minsung chose to tag along with you instead, always asking to be put in the same projects as you if the opportunity arose. He said he could breathe easy when he was with you, probably because you only saw him as a friend and nothing more, unlike all the other women who were nice to him to get a sliver of his affection.

“Yeah,” you grumbled. “I’m still here.”

“You haven’t finished yet? It’s almost ten.”

“I would’ve finished a while ago if I hadn’t inputted the wrong numbers. I’m basically redoing everything now, and I still have four more reports to go.” You were close to crying at this point, frustrated. “I’m sorry, Minsung, I don’t have time to chat. I’m in a hurry.”

“So cold,” he joked with a chuckle. Leaning back against the partition with the sleeves of his navy blue shirt rolled up to his elbows, he flaunted a charming smile. “How about I offer you some help, then? I was about to head home, but I could stay here for you if you promise me you'll treat me to some steak.”

That was a cheap offer. You didn't have to think twice about it. “Yes. Yes, please, help me.”

There were only the two of you in the room, and you were aware of that, but as soon as you handed him one of your files, Minsung returned to work in his own cubicle, providing some distance between you, and you felt safe. He really was just trying to help.

Half an hour later, he came over with a haughty grin. “Done,” he said, leaving you gaping in awe at his work. Not only was he fast, he did everything so neatly and efficiently, much better than you did.

“Oh my God, you’re my life savior,” you uttered in gratitude before you glanced at the clock. 10.21 PM. Only two more reports to go. With his help, you could finish this sooner than you expected. And then you could go home to your fiancée’s arms, the man you’d been longing to reunite with from the second you kissed him goodbye that very morning.

“I’ll help you with the rest,” Minsung promised. “But let’s take a break first.”

You didn’t have time to waste. “Sorry, I don’t think I—”

“Please, Noona?” He pleaded with his big, sparkly doe eyes. “Just to get some coffee. It will only take ten minutes max.”

“Minsung—“

“Five. Five minutes. Please?”

You exhaled heavily through your nose; your bottom lip caught between your teeth. You had no choice but to agree as you desperately needed his help. You figured a ten-minute break wouldn’t hurt. If anything, you needed a chance to stretch and unwind your muscles after sitting non-stop for hours. “Fine. I’ll treat you. Let’s go.”

Following his lead, you took the stairs to the next level above you. The lights for that floor had been shut down completely from the main operating room to conserve energy. Using your phone as your flashlight, you stepped into the pantry area. Seeing no one around felt a little eerie, as the space was always crowded during the day, and being shrouded in darkness only multiplied that sensation.

Fortunately for you, the vending machine was still operating as always, providing enough lights for you to make out the shape of Minsung’s affable smile as he talked about the upcoming projects. You felt nervous, still, but you made no complaints. You weren’t going to be long anyway.

Besides… You looked up at the ceiling, feeling your heart at ease once you spotted the surveillance camera strapped to the corner of the room, observing your every action. We’re not necessarily alone.

Minsung followed your gaze, simpering as he stuffed his hands inside his pockets. “What, Noona, are you scared of being alone with me?”

“No,” you answered promptly, and it wasn’t a complete lie. He was a friend you’d known longer than a month. You trusted him in a way. He didn’t give you any sense of danger, but you couldn’t deny being left alone with a man made you feel slightly anxious. “I was just looking around.”

“Thank goodness. I was worried that I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, of course not.”

Tossing you another smile, he walked right past you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he whispered, “It’s not working, by the way. The camera. None of them work on this floor since they plan to install new ones tomorrow. So, it’s just you and me, Noona.”

You quickly grew restless over the news, but you chased your agitation away when you saw him grinning puckishly. He’s just messing with me.

...right?

Minsung, always the gentleman, beat you to the vending machine. He slipped his money inside, purchasing two warm cans of coffee, already memorizing your favorite brand. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” You took the drink from his hand, your palm warming up instantly from the first touch. “You should’ve let me buy this for you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to order a super expensive Wagyu steak to make up for it.”

“All right.” The soft peals of your laughter chased away the silence in the room. “Thank you, Minsung. Seriously. I would’ve been stuck here for another hour without your help. I’m running late as it is, so… It really means a lot, thanks.”

“You have somewhere to go?”

You nodded your head, taking a sip of the caffeine. “It’s my fourth anniversary today, so my boyfriend and I—”

“What?”

You stiffened. There was a sudden change in his tone, like a flare of anger mixed with surprise, but when you whirled your head toward him, no such emotion was written on his face. Was I imagining it?

“I didn't know you had a boyfriend,” Minsung continued. There was something different about his smile. It felt somewhat… alarming. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned him before.”

There was a reason why you never did. As the sixth national-level hunter, Jinwoo was almost as well-known as a world-class celebrity. Everybody had heard his name; most of them admired and worshipped him as their hero, and you were just… someone who happened to meet him by chance at a coffee shop. The difference in status and fame between you could attract unnecessary attention. You could already imagine the amount of journalists that would swarm you with questions if they knew you were engaged.

Fortunately for you, Jinwoo agreed to play along. Your comfort remained his first concern, after all. He probably figured it would be better for your well-being, too, if there weren’t many people informed about the special bond you shared with him. You wouldn’t be targeted as much, both by the probing reporters or the beings who wished to strike him down.

“Yeah, umm, I don’t really like talking about my personal life,” you responded with an awkward chuckle. “But yeah, I have a boyfriend. A fiancée, actually.” As an elated smile flourished on your lips, your hand absentmindedly pressed against the pendant dangling around your neck, hidden by the collar of your blouse. It was your engagement ring, an extravagant diamond placed upon a silver band. You wished you could let it adorn your fourth finger the way it was supposed to, but doing so would defeat the purpose of keeping your relationship a secret. You didn’t wish for your co-workers to start asking questions about it. You could lie, sure, but… You were never a very good liar to begin with.

Silence filled the spaces between you. Without knowing why, the tension suddenly turned palpable, almost smothering. “Uhh… Minsung, I think we should head back—”

“What a fucking joke.”

Your heart plummeted from the sudden switch in his demeanor, the change so abrupt and vivid that it brought ice to the atmosphere. Resentment and disdain were engraved firmly in his tone, his voice harsh and deep, making your stomach churn in fear. He laughed once, bitter and cold before he turned to look at you. There was no warmth in his eyes, his expression indecipherable, but you could tell something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Instinctively, you took a step back, your senses on full alert. “Minsung—”

“I can’t believe I wasted so much time, so much effort to get your attention,” he walked toward you, slow and steady, but with each step he took, you heard the siren in your mind turning vehement. “Just to find out you have a fucking fiancée?”

Still shocked at the sudden twist of the situation, you found your spine pressed against the wall. Minsung caged you with his body, your head trapped between his arms. “You know I like you, right, Noona?” His face hovered a mere few inches above yours as he gazed down menacingly. Perhaps the rumors of him being an actor were true. Never in your life would you have thought that a man as bright as Minsung would possess such a cruel, horrifying personality beneath his prince charming smile.

“I-I didn’t,” you said, quivers in your voice. You weren’t lying. You were completely unaware of his feelings. Your gullible mind just thought he wanted to befriend you, that he was just naturally kind, the type of person who’d find joy in helping others.

“Don’t lie to me.” His words flew past gritted teeth, heavy with threat. “You think someone would act so nice to you without wanting anything in return? All this time, you knew how I felt about you, and you enjoyed my attention, didn’t you? Is it fun for you? Toying with other people’s feelings?”

“I’ve never—“ You flinched when he grabbed you by the neck, your eyes shut closed as pain jolted through your stream. “M-Minsung—” you choked out, your fingers twisting around his wrist, trying to pry him off of you. It was no use. He was a man nearly twice your size, with the strength of an A-rank Hunter if the words on the street were true. “Let me—go—”

“Or what, hmm?” He snarled behind his wolfish grin. “Pretty girls like you always do whatever you like, don’t they? Taking advantage of people and tossing them away like they’re nothing. Well, tell you what, darling.” He peered down at you with hunger in his eyes, the desire to hurt, to break you.“I can do the same thing, too.”

Terror engulfed you at once as your mind wandered through all the frightening possibilities he could do to you in this empty space, hidden in the dimness of the room. Panic brought tears to your eyes, blurring your vision as your heart desperately sought a savior.

Jinwoo! You wanted to cry out. Jinwoo, please!

Help me!

“Look at you,” Minsung chuckled, loving the dread in your eyes. “Starting to fear me now, aren’t you, Noona? Too bad, no one’s gonna come to save you. Didn’t I tell you before? It’s just you and me here.” His face hovered close, his breath hot on your cheeks. “So, let’s make that count, shall we?”

Despite the overwhelming fright, you refused to give up, not yet. Clasping your jaws together, you clawed against his wrist with your nails, marring his skin until blood trickled to color his pallid skin crimson.

“Fucking bitch,” he growled, hissing at the wound you inflicted on him. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

He lifted you up the wall, forcing you to stand on your toes. “Stop—” You gasped out as Minsung tightened his fingers around your neck, carving bruises and crushing your windpipes. You kicked around, desperate to regain some distance. “I said, STOP!”

You heard it before your mind could register what your eyes witnessed—the sound of a human’s skull being crushed. Your eyes closed in reflex as splatters of blood and bits of flesh drenched you to your toes. A sudden eerie silence descended over the room, ruined only by the sound of your restrained breathing. Slowly, with your heart caught in your throat, your lids fluttered open—

And you saw Lee Minsung standing before you. Limp. Headless.

Thick blood painted the marble floor, coating the white walls black beneath the looming darkness and smearing scarlet all over the glass. His body was frozen in place, floating a few inches above the ground as if there was an invisible hand seizing him by the neck. By the next time you blinked your eyes, it toppled onto the floor with a heavy thud. More blood oozed out of the corpse, pooling around your feet and soaking your shoes with its revolting warmth.

You couldn’t scream, trepidation filling every bit of your nerve as you stared at the scene, striking you to your bones. In that brief moment, time seemed to slow down. Your rapid heartbeat rang clamorously in your ears as your mind gravely tried to process the situation.

Then, you heard footsteps closing in.

With trembles running through your entire body, you turned your head to the side, following where the sound reverberated from. You felt a pair of arms pulling you into an embrace before you could take a glimpse of their owner, his touch so tender and careful, rivaling that of a mother. As your face fell upon a sturdy chest, your senses greeted by a familiar warmth and the pleasant scent of cedarwood and musk, you knew this was the home you wished to run to just a few seconds ago.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Jinwoo’s deep, soothing voice felt like cold water pouring onto scalding skin. “You’re safe now.”

Except he didn’t feel like home anymore, or your savior. He was the Angel of Death, one that just took the life of a mortal without batting an eye.

A part of you felt relieved, grateful—and you should’ve, right? He saved your life, protected you from the man who planned to break you apart. But as your lover drew you closer to his chest, his gentle fingers threading through your hair, pacifying you, your stare returned to Lee Minsung’s mangled body on the floor. Jinwoo had killed thousands of beasts before, and you knew how merciless and brutal he could be in the face of his opponent, but you never thought he would act the same—no, worse—to a human.

Minsung was a despicable person down to his core, and you wished he would get caught and rot in jail for what he did to you, but never, never in your life would you wish for him to end like that. To end with his head… exploding to pieces.

“J-Jin—” Your words stuck in your throat the second you witnessed the fury in his eyes. You’d never seen it before—didn’t even think it was possible for such consuming rage to reside in the pair of the gentlest sapphires you’d ever seen. He wasn’t looking at you, not at your face. His gaze was fixated on the bruise that had besmirched your neck, forming in the shape of another man’s fingers. He breathed out heavily, his wrath threatening to take over and destroy everything around him, but when he caressed his fingertips along the marks, they were as light, as cold and gentle as the first snow of December.

“I shouldn’t have killed him,” Jinwoo spoke through clenched teeth, his voice the quiet rumble of an impending storm. “I should’ve tortured him.”

Your heart freefell to your stomach. This side of him appalled you so terribly it left you tongue-tied. Before you could react, your lover suddenly lifted his head, his sensitive ears catching the sound you couldn’t hear amidst the gale raging in your mind, but his concern over your well-being caused him to notice it a second too late. A patrolling security guard strolled by the door with a flashlight in hand, completely stupefied as he witnessed the gruesome scene unfolding before his eyes. You panicked, your mind in a rush to find a way to escape the situation, but before you could even draw another breath, Jinwoo raised his hand—

And the man’s head was severed from his neck.

Bile quickly rose to your throat as you saw it rolled onto the floor. Splotches of blood bathed Jinwoo’s dark trench coat; some spilled onto his cheek, which he nonchalantly brushed away with his knuckles. His posture remained calm and composed, with no emotions written on his face, as if the act of killing an innocent man was never a dire sin in his book.

He brought your body flushed against him, holding you protectively against his chest to avert your gaze from the human remains. “Igris,” he summoned, his voice heavy with authority. “Clear the evidence.”

As black fog materialized in the darkness, you, yourself were consumed by one.

The Angel of Death wrapped his black wings around you and took you away. ***

The next time you fluttered your eyes open, the scene had changed. You had returned home, to the beautiful penthouse you had been living together with him like newlyweds. The blackness of the night shrouded the living space, blanketed every piece of furniture that carried the beautiful memories you shared with him, placing veils upon the photo frames that showcased the romantic smiles and the amorous gazes he directed at you. It was as if the world refused to remind you of the man you loved, forcing you to accept the monster standing before you.

You stood still in the heart of your living room, trapped within his arms. Hot tears emanated in your eyes, filling your sockets and drenching your cheeks. They were not tears of relief, nor were they proof of your gratitude. They were born out of horror, your fear of the man whose name was engraved in the silver ring you wore above your heart. And that man, at that very moment, had you within his clutch. To hold you tenderly or to shatter you to dust, it was all up for you to decide.

He loved you. He loved you now. But if you made one wrong move, one unforgivable mistake that severed the red thread between your fingers…

Will I end up like them? You pondered dreadfully, not realizing how he was capable of doing more. There were worse things than death that you didn’t know yet. But he did.

And he was ready to give it to you should you choose to abandon him.

Feeling you trembling against him, Jinwoo slowly unwound his arms from you, examining your face with careful fingertips. The glimmering city lights from below seeped faintly through the windows, illuminating one side of his handsome features while leaving the rest for the darkness to embrace. “You’re still shaking… How can I make you feel better?”

His compassion, his soft, caring gaze, the way he carefully brushed his thumb against your tears—everything remained the same, and yet, all you could think about were the ghastly corpses he left on the floor.

Just what kind of a monster is he to be able to do something so cruel without any hesitation?

Your strength began to trickle out of you, your legs wobbly beneath your weight. “Angel—” You untangled yourself from him, not wanting his help. Sinking to the carpeted floor with your body and clothes still dampened with blood, you felt so weak you could barely speak.

Jinwoo went down to one knee before you, his eyebrows sewn in deep concern as he reached out a hand to take yours. “Let me carry you to the bed—”

You backed off from him as best as you could, falling to your behind as you jerked away from his touch. You didn’t want his hands on you, not a single finger, not after what he did.

Your action stunned him, but seeing your fear-stricken face, he didn’t take your rejection to heart. He fathomed the trauma you just went through but not understanding that he was the biggest factor that caused it.

“Hey, it’s all right. It’s just me, Sweetheart. Just me.” He assured you with a smile, as saccharine sweet as usual. It felt off-putting as if it didn’t belong there on his face anymore, even if it looked the same. It had been stained by the fact that his hands were now drenched in another man’s blood.

“It was scary, wasn’t it?” He softly swept your hair out of your face, tucking the damp strands behind your ear. “But it’s over now. Nothing can touch you while I’m here. I promise.”

What he offered as reassurance became terror the moment it reached your ears. If no one could touch you if he were with you, then there would be no one to save you.

Frantic tears still glazed your eyes, threatening to fall and join the others that had dripped down your chin. “Y-You…” Your breathing quickened, your heart rate escalating rapidly. “Those men… You k-killed them…”

To your horror, his thin lips bowed, forming a smile so angelic, it felt like heaven’s kiss. “I did,” Jinwoo replied, his tone sweet, almost romantic, his gaze soft without a glimmer of remorse. “All for your sake, my love.”

For… For my sake…?

This is all… my fault?

“I… I never asked you to—” Your words came out in chokes as another surge of panic filled your system. “I never—” There was a pain in your chest that you couldn’t wash away no matter how tightly you clutched your hand over your heart, the world spinning so fast around you, depriving you of oxygen.

“Breathe,” he urged gently, gathering your face in his hands. “You’re panicking, Sweetheart. You need to calm down first, all right? Focus on me. Focus on my voice.” He kept one hand on your cheek, his thumb rubbing soothing circles along the bone beneath your eye as his other one ran up and down your arm, pacifying you. “There’s no need to be afraid anymore. I'm with you. I'll always be with you.”

The more you listened to him, the more intense your fear grew inside you. It didn’t occur to him that you were afraid of him. He believed he did the right thing—saving you, protecting you.

“Match your breathing with mine. You can do this.”

He was a bigger monster than you thought he was.

Despite every nerve of your body begging you to flee, you stay put, focusing to compose yourself, to even your breathing the way he guided you. Colors slowly returned to your face, your heart no longer pounding just as hard.

“There you go, Angel.” He planted a soft kiss on your temple, his own muscles unwinding as relief washed over him. “That’s my good girl. You’ve done so well.”

Brought back down to earth by the same man who showed you a glimpse of hell… You felt sick to your stomach.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” he offered with a smile, a soft caress of his digits on your cheek. Unable to do anything, you let him take control. With one arm supporting your back and the other hooked behind your knees, your lover carried you to the bathroom.

You kept yourself mute as you dwelled in the aftermath of the incident, trying to overcome the shock and the horror of his actions. Jinwoo remained patient with you, not forcing you to speak or do anything you weren’t ready for. He simply took off his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt before he sat you down on the edge of the bathtub.

“Lift your hands for me?” He asked before he removed your blouse, never forgetting his courtesy even after four years of leaving nasty lovebites on each other skin. You did as you were told, your body going on autopilot, complying with your puppeteer’s command.

Jinwoo stood on one knee before you, wiping the blood off your skin with such tenderness that it would’ve lulled you to sleep had you been able to chase away all the terrorizing thoughts. But how could you when he was still there right before you, acting like the sweet prince that he was while his victim’s blood still stained his shirt and cheek?

“You’re doing great, love,” he praised your obedience, peeling off your stockings one by one. He removed your skirt next, leaving your legs bare, and for a split second, you thought he would pepper butterfly kisses on your thighs, the way he never failed to do, worshipping your body every chance he got. But he didn’t. He showed compassion, giving you space to breathe, not wanting to remind you of the horrifying way Minsung had touched you before.

Now fully undressed before him, Jinwoo bathed you, starting by washing your hair, taking a moment to ask whether the water was too warm or too cold for your liking. You didn’t answer. A piece of his soul shattered as he watched how crestfallen you were, another part burned with the self-loathing he held toward himself for not being there sooner to save you, and the rest… The rest of him was consumed by the fury he had not yet fully released. Still, with caring hands, he proceeded till the end, scrubbing all the crimson away from your locks and skin before shutting off the water.

Seeing you cleansed and all warmed up, Jinwoo swathed your body with a bathrobe. He lowered himself to his knees once more, meeting your eye level as he dried the excess water from your hair with another towel. You looked so small, so vulnerable that he couldn’t help but gaze at you with his heart breaking in his eyes.

He removed the towel, pushing the stray strands behind your ear. “Can I hug you?” He questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand rested on your knee, his thumb rubbing little circles there, waiting.

The hands you settled on your thighs slowly curled into fists as your emotions overflowed you like a broken dam, your lips quivering in your attempt to fight back the stinging tears. You were scared of him, so terribly scared, but there was a part of you that was still aching for comfort, for the solace that he could only provide. You cast your stare down to your lap, your body trembling as you tried to contain your sobs.

“Oh, Sweetheart…” He brought you back into his embrace, his lips caressing your temple before he settled his chin on your head. “It’s all right, you’re okay now. You’re safe with me.”

There was promise in his words, one that you could easily believe if this incident ever happened. But all you could think right then was—

How can I truly feel safe with you when you’re no longer the man I know?

“Jinwoo…”

He carefully pulled away, relieved that he could hear your voice again. “Yes?”

“The two men from before…” You shakily began, catching the way his body turned still almost immediately at your words. You hadn’t gathered enough bravery to hold his gaze yet, but it didn’t stop you from forming the question gnawing at your chest. “Why…? Why did you do that to them?”

It took a second for him to respond, stroking the back of your head. “Sweetheart—”

“Why did you kill them?”

His gaze hardened, seemingly conflicted as he mulled over his answer. You weren’t sure if he were concerned of how his honesty might affect you, or if he just simply refused to reply, not wanting to reveal more sides of the monster he kept inside. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me…?” Incredulity washed over your face as you watched him rise back to his feet, his demeanor still poised while you were shaking to your core. “If you wanted to protect me, you could’ve just stopped him. You didn’t have to—”

“I had to.” A layer of his patience snapped, his voice turning frighteningly low. No storm was darker than his gaze when he looked down at you, smothering you more than the brimming anxiety inside you. “He laid his hands on you. On what’s mine.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach. The way he said it… It was almost as if you were his possession, an object he’d bared his teeth at anyone who dared to touch.

He killed Minsung because… he couldn’t stand seeing another man play with his toy?

Your fingers gripped tightly against the tub's edge as gravity seemed to double beneath your feet. “The other man… T-the security guard…”

Jinwoo tightened his jaws, his voice rivaling the frostiness of the blackest winter, a telltale that he had lost a shard of his humanity a long time ago. “I couldn’t afford to have a witness.”

Collateral damage. That was how easily he waved it off. A sinless man’s soul, treated as nothing.

The air turned heavy as silence came to join your company. He walked away from you to set away your towel, accidentally catching a reflection of himself in the mirror as he did. The bloodstain was still there, coating his prominent cheekbone, a stroke of crimson over flawless white canvas. He turned on the tap, drenching his fingers with water; his expression remained unfazed. You watched him wipe the dry blood with his thumb as if it were just another stain, not remembering—not caring over—the lives he took when he got it.

“I did what I had to do,” Jinwoo uttered, popping open the top buttons of his shirt before he rested his palms on the edge of the sink. His gaze, colder than the ocean’s depths, was glued to the running water. “He deserved it.”

Deserved it? No one deserved to have their heads blown to pieces! “You’ve gone too far—”

“And I’ll do it again.” He met your gaze in the mirror, stifling your breath. “I’ll kill anyone who touches you. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. No one can have you but me.”

Your fear of him intensified as anger radiated off of him. You couldn’t avert your gaze away, feeling like he had you by the throat. The glow in his eyes, the conviction… He meant every word.

He’s insane.

He’s insane. He’s insane. He’s insane.

I need to run. I need to go somewhere. Far, far away from him.

It might have been a rash decision—foolish, too—but it was what your instinct told you to do, and you were caught too deep in a frenzy to think straight. You tried to return to your feet, your movement hasty, uncoordinated. It was then that you realized you could barely feel your legs.

The panic attack you'd suffered through before had taken a toll on your body, forcing it to betray you. Combined with the terrifying realization of the monster he had become—no, the monster he always was—your limbs turned feeble no matter how much you tried to steel yourself. Losing your balance, you fell onto the ceramic floor, water saturating your bathrobe the same way horror pervading every line of your face.

No, move. You beseeched yourself, your vision blurring with hot tears. Please, move!

You heard the tap handle turning before his calm, steady footsteps followed. “You need to rest,” Jinwoo said, his tone leaving you barely any room to argue.

Still, fueled by your will to survive, you shook your head. “No, I need to—”

“Sweetheart.” The sudden firmness in his voice staggered you. It was never a suggestion. It was a command. "Do as I tell you to."

You couldn’t do it. You had to leave. Now. The urge for it possessed you stronger than before. With a shot of adrenaline bursting through your system, you pushed yourself off the ground. You’d crawl your way out of there if you had to. You swore it.

One step. One step away from him was all he allowed you before he captured you with one hand wrapped around your waist, dragging you back to him.

“Jinwoo,” you started pleading, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt. “Jinwoo, please, let—” His lean fingers reached toward you, a gentle curtain falling over your eyes. As darkness embraced you, your consciousness began to seep away. “me… go…” You fell into his arms, your body limp, your lips ajar as your words died in a whisper.

The last thing you witnessed before everything turned pitch black was a pair of glimmering purple orbs replacing the blue in his eyes. ***

Your damp strands soddened the pillow as Jinwoo placed you gently onto the sheets. He brushed his thumb against the tear that slipped past your wet lashes, his face contorting in sadness. He didn’t mean to do it, to use his magic on you, but you were panicking again, weren’t you? He couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering through another attack should it worsen.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, bestowing a kiss on your cheek. “You’ll feel better tomorrow. I promise.” He covered you with the duvet, letting it shroud you with its warmth before he’d replace it later with his embrace. “I’ll be back in a minute, Angel.”

There was one thing he needed to do, something to douse the blazing fire within him.

Peaceful in your slumber, you failed to witness the way his entire expression shifted as his eyes landed once again on the marks around your neck. With his jaw tautened and his eyes gleaming in the darkness, the Lord of the Undead stepped into his realm.

“My liege,” one of his most faithful shadows, Beru, greeted him with a deep bow as his king graced him with his presence. Endless soldiers stood on their knees behind the generals, awaiting his order.

"Heal her bruises. Make sure she's not in any pain. Igris," his voice, enough to make all shadows tremble at the sound, rumbled deeper through the air as he turned to address the other general. “Bring him to me.”

The silent knight vanished and returned within the blink of an eye, dragging Lee Minsung’s headless corpse beneath his claws and presenting him like a gift. Jinwoo stood tall with his hands stuck inside his pockets, his gaze piercing, unforgiving.

The raging desire for vengeance rose within him once more, and this time, he knew the perfect way to satisfy it.

“Arise.”

Read the deleted scene here

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astroxrion · 1 month ago

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How to Get Rich Using Astrology:

Jupiter in Aries

You become wealthy by taking bold, fearless action. Your luck shows up when you jump into new ventures without overthinking. To maximize it, follow your impulses and stay physically active to fuel your drive. Trust your gut to lead you to opportunities—your courage will always pay off.

Jupiter in Taurus

Slow and steady wins your race. You build wealth by investing in long-lasting assets like real estate, luxury goods, or businesses rooted in stability. Your luck comes from consistency—don’t rush. Focus on building practical skills and surround yourself with comfort to stay grounded and attract abundance.

Jupiter in Gemini

Talk your way to fortune. Networking, communication, and versatility are your wealth magnets. You thrive when juggling multiple ideas or projects. Keep learning and sharing knowledge—publishing, teaching, and media can be major income streams. Stay curious, and your quick mind will always find new avenues.

Jupiter in Cancer

Nurture your wealth by creating safe, supportive spaces. Real estate, family businesses, or caregiving professions attract abundance. Your instincts guide you—follow your feelings when making financial choices. Emotional security and loyalty to your vision will naturally lead to long-term success.

Jupiter in Leo

Be the star and wealth will follow. Your creative self-expression, confidence, and charisma attract success. Don’t hold back from showcasing your talents. Performance, entertainment, and leadership roles are your money-makers. Embrace your spotlight—your passion inspires others to invest in you.

Jupiter in Virgo

Details are your gold mine. Build wealth by mastering your craft and monetizing practical skills. Your luck shows up when you organize, refine, and serve others. Focus on health, productivity, and precision to attract consistent growth. Efficiency and helpfulness will always be rewarded.

Jupiter in Libra

Partner up to prosper. You thrive in balanced collaborations, art, and aesthetics. Wealth comes when you build harmonious connections and focus on fairness in business. Style, beauty, and diplomacy can be lucrative—your charm naturally draws in support and resources when you keep the peace.

Jupiter in Scorpio

Wealth comes from embracing depth and transformation. Investments, psychology, and uncovering hidden truths bring fortune. Don’t fear intensity—use your passion to fuel ambitious goals. Face your fears and work through challenges head-on. Your resilience attracts power and financial stability.

Jupiter in Sagittarius

Think big, travel far, and expand your horizons. Your luck shows up when you take risks, explore new cultures, or share wisdom. Wealth grows when you align with your truth—publishing, teaching, and global ventures are key. Keep your spirit adventurous and follow your passion for freedom.

Jupiter in Capricorn

You build wealth through hard work and discipline. Authority and respect are your assets. Structure your goals, stay practical, and climb steadily. Professionalism and commitment attract long-term success. Patience is your power—master the grind, and rewards will follow in time.

Jupiter in Aquarius

Innovation brings wealth. Think outside the box, embrace tech, and build communities. Your luck shows up when you challenge norms and pioneer new ideas. Networking and social causes can be profitable when you stay true to your vision. Share your insights to inspire change—and success.

Jupiter in Pisces

Dream your wealth into reality. Creativity, compassion, and spirituality attract abundance. Follow your intuition and tap into your imagination. Healing work, art, and helping others elevate your life. Let go of rigid plans and trust that flowing with your dreams will manifest prosperity.

Get an Astrology Reading With me : https://www.tumblr.com/astroxrion/784631769533136896/o-my-readings-the-rion-code-o?source=share

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physalian · 7 months ago

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3 More Character Types the World Needs More Of

Or at least, I do.

1. The denied redeemed villain

I need this. So badly right now. So, so, so many “redemption arcs” are half-assed and carry undertones of guilt by the heroes, gaslighting them into thinking the villain “wasn’t all that bad” right before they make some big heroic sacrifice, as if that’s ever enough to make up for the damage that was done.

But you know what I never see? A villain who’s done some awful shit, wakes up to reality, tries to apologize and… is denied. No, it’s not enough to be sorry. No, you’re not absolved of your crimes just because you cry really hard on your knees. Yes, you have to work for it. Yes, even if you work for it for the rest of your whole life, those you hurt are not obligated to forgive you.

Example that sadly did not happen in canon: Enji Todoroki

2. The liar revealed who loses

This fucker lies and cheats his way into his lover’s arms (and liars revealed are always men, because their love interests are always women put in the place of “but he tried really hard and you need to forgive him uwu” unless it’s gay). Similar to above, no, you do not get rewarded just for feeling sorry.

This character builds an entire relationship (and it’s specifically romance that I take such an issue with) on a lie. They are not who they say they are, specifically, they lie about their identity because they know their lover would not let this happen if they knew the truth.

It’s one thing to lie about something inconsequential, or to lie about something unrelated, but to lie deliberately to present yourself as the perfect suitor—and these are never little white lies, these are usually entirely false identities, or secrets so damning that risking the truth could mean arrest or even death—just. Why?

Yeah, okay, you never thought you’d get this far. Cool. You don’t have to tell her the truth, but you have to leave before you trick her into sleeping with you.

It’s just. So squicky. And the lesson always is that he deserves love, that he makes up for it with everything else, that he’s just got a winning personality. She always forgives him, even if they fight about it, it’s so, so predictable.

Examples that did not lose: Aladdin, Evan Hansen

3. The paragon who loses faith

I don’t know that we need a whole bunch of these characters, but so many paragons are painted as heroes with unshakable loyalty to their causes and I’d love to see a devolution of character where they just can’t keep smiling and pretending it’s alright. That there is a limit to how much shit they can take.

They don’t have to go full villain, but maybe they just stop caring, maybe they get cynical, maybe they just don’t show up for work the next day, maybe they’re not there when they’re needed the most.

There’s a few stories I can think of where the masses realize they’ve screwed up and show the hero that their faith has been rewarded (Nolan Bats being one of them) but I mean really a hero who just cannot take it anymore, throws in the towel, and walks away knowing it’s the hardest thing they’ve ever had to do.

Example: (kind of) Captain America

—

Sorry this list is kind of a bummer. It’s a bummer kind of week.

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #writing tips #character development #character design #archetypes

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navydoves · 3 months ago

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Blood Bag — Chapter 1

"Shh, drink." ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

✎ᝰ. summary. you’re a vampire, you need blood. sylus is the most powerful man on this side of the planet. he has what you need. ✎ᝰ. cw. you’re a vampire/sylus is a human, yearning sylus, depressed sylus, lonely sylus, luke and kieran are side characters, not unrequited but maybe a little, ANGSTY, erotica, lots of pining here bro, sylus will get more pathetic as the chapters go on TBH

✎ᝰ. wc. 9.7k ✎ᝰ. a/n. alright this is gonna be a several part series (nothing over like 3 or 4), because this baby is heavy packed with story. the story is told in sylus’s pov and this first chapter is a lot of character building for sylus. some things are written in-between the lines here and it’s something you’ll just have to figure out as you read more.

also apparently i have a tag list of one? woaahh, crazyyyy.

@phisen hey girl whats up

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ to be in power means to wear the crown of the wind - ruling unseen, yet felt everywhere. there is a jurisdiction through those in power; created by them, and mandated by their people. with great power comes great responsibility, but with great power comes great reward as well. some sovereignties relish in riches or authority because that was the reward of power. owning, succeeding. other sovereignties revered obedience and the autocratic nature of their title, because that too was the reward of power. authoritative, commanding. the only reason empires fall, and people scatter is because their sovereignties could not hold up the weight of their responsibilities. it is the well-established, deliberate ones that have continuous reign. but we live in a world filled of trade-offs; so, while reckless sovereignties get to be reckless because their trade-offs are rebellion and destruction, what do the sensible sovereignties get? loneliness. loneliness is their trade off. the most revered sovereignties are only that because they are the most sound and practical. they pay for longevity with isolation, and not by choice, no, but by necessity. trust is earned. happiness is earned. in order to stand today where he does today, the standing sovereignty of onychinus has lived by this philosophy for centuries. besides his two (rather immature) underlings that have pledged their loyalties to him, there is no other soul that has taken up space in his life. sylus was all too venerated as a leader to care about abundance anymore. every trade was always carefully scrutinized by him to ensure that he and his organization received complete satisfaction; but the only deal sylus has never acknowledged is the deal he made trading his heart for his position. since the first day of creating onychinus, he unknowingly sold off the heart once given to him for the reason of structure, for protection. protection was now evermore a necessity than before, though. while threats of danger always loomed in the empire that was the n109 zone, the recent outbreak within neighboring empires was causing tension. the n109 zone was strictly regulated and monitored as per onychinus's rule, so they barely even felt a scratch from the epidemic, but that was all the more reason to invade them. originating from a lost civilization called linkon, the outbreak was said to also have vanished to time. as their empire fell so too their people and the horrifying disease they carried with them. horrifying by today's standards, that is. what was formerly called their "disease" is now more modernly known as vampirism. vampires weren't creatures, no, as they stemmed from humans and could also carry human genetics - but they weren't human enough to be considered normal. back when their first began as a sub-gene (or "subspecies") of humans, they were accepted rather easily into normal civilization. differences were put aside for the sake of community building as "sovereignties" and "empires" didn't exist as we know them today. but as the saying goes, "one bad apple spoils the bunch." veering off the animal supply stashes the vampires kept stored within their solitary caves, a few rogue vampires decided that the next best thing to animal blood was human blood. it was a very practical thought - humans were much more well-nourished and they had more blood to take. surely, their blood was better than pig's blood. surely, the one or two humans that would be sacrificed would understand that this is for hunger. and surely, their communities would understand that they were doing justice to the greater good. and surely enough, it did not end well. the incident in which vampires betrayed the hospitality shared between them and humans for the sake of blood was dubbed "the first bite." at the time, no one had no way of knowing it - but the bite of a vampire wouldn't take a life; rather, it would alter whoever was bitten to turn into a vampire as well. when this revelation was made, things were more than "not well", they were catastrophic.

the details of it are spared now in history books, but the way of the word says that for the better part of the eon there was enough bloodshed to coat forests red.

in the end humans won was what essentially a war with their biggest ally being the sun. most vampires were innocent in any betrayal, but the frenzied attacks that came after the first bite were targeted at the entire sub-gene of vampires, causing panic and retaliation. an unfortunate set of circumstances, really, but since their supposed extinction their existence was only to the world through tales. a cornerstone story of betrayal and human triumph.

that was until now, though.

it was only a few decades ago that a new surge of vampiric traits emerged untraceably in humans. the sun was scalding to their skin, their complexions ghostly and gaunt, their bodies rejecting normal meals. this rise was declared a state of sovereign emergency and due to mistrust and anxiety welling within people, this was where tensions between empires began.

n109, being the biggest trader and distributor of modern weapons and protective gear, were in high demand. the issue was, sylus was not a man who was willing to bargain that easily with other empires even for the sake of an outbreak. what about him and the people he took care of? even if these people are criminals, mobsters, drug dealers, outcasts of society, they were still established in his area. to put into simple terms, sylus was and is a hardass. he could be called greedy and intransigent by as many news outlets as the world wanted, but he was stern and consistent in his ways. which is why he is the sensible sovereign others cannot be.

he gave up his heart for this position. he gave up half his soul to be where he is. and he'll be damned if he loses it all once again. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ "boss says no, sorry!" luke chirps from behind his mask. he gives the merchant a small shrug, completely resigned in his words.

"nothing we can do it about it!" kieran chirps in the same tone. the merchant in front of them furrows his brows together in clear disdain. the impatient expression that he wore on his face for the past two hours only evolved into a newfound emotion of anger that threatened to burst. the twins exchange a knowing glance at each other but then quickly refocus their attention onto the greying, tall old man in front of them. "why not?" the merchant asks with restrained tension in his voice. the binders of death reports and files he's lugged over city lines for the simple purpose of showing the head of onychinus were now useless. "do you understand what you're denying right now? it's aid! it's humanitarian assistance! what gives anyone the right to deny people life?" the twins exchange another glance. "we aren't denying anything, sir" kieran responds amusedly while flicking his finger back and forth between him and luke. "we are simply the boss's messengers. nothing we can do about it." "yeah, yeah," luke agrees while crossing his arms, "don't go being all bitch-y to us. take it up with the boss." the merchant clenches his fists until his knuckles turn visibly white. the anger was almost a little humorous to the twins, but they kept their faces in check - even with the crow masks on. "how the hell am i supposed to take it up with him if he won't even see me?! why doesn't he bless negotiators with his presence especially after we've gone through days of his intensive security procedures? is he mad?" kieran stifles a laugh so luke decides to answer for him. "don't take it so personally. boss doesn't er... 'bless' people with his presence if he doesn't believe the conversation is worth his time. you're the fourth outlander this month with a proposition about weapon trading for the outbreak. guess what boss said the other three times? i think you have a good idea." "and so how exactly are us smaller states supposed to acquire artillery to fend off these vicious vampires?! the n109 zone has more than enough weaponry to go around without becoming insufficient themselves." "how would you know that?" kieran asks suddenly, his giggles gone in an instant. luke tilts his head at the merchant and shakes it in displeasure. "you're very bold to assume the business of the n109 zone, especially when the case files you've brought us clearly skew the deaths in your area. the elderly dying of regular, human sicknesses is not an issue. yet many of the death files you've brought make it sound like the 'sickness' was vampirism. you can't half-truth your way into a conversation with boss." the merchant shakes his head rapidly and clutches onto the binder of cases. he flips it open and swipes through the papers with haste, determined to explain and prove himself to the twins for the sake of his dignity. "you don't understand, of course you don't! you haven't read the files fully! the elderly-" "nope," luke interjects, "we're not here for a debate. like we said, boss gave orders and we're relaying them. when boss says no, you take a leave." he pats kieran on the back once with a small laugh, an indication telling the brother he had to get the guards this time. kieran sighs softly and steps aside for a moment while luke continues his argument with the merchant. he clears his throat, steps into position, and flails his arms while making cawing sounds to the air.

the immediate embarrassment that flooded kieran was almost enough to make him stop but the incoming of mechanical birds hidden away in the corners of the estate told him he did enough. the birds swooped in and pinched the various corners of the merchant's clothes before dragging him away with disgusting strength. "w..what's happening? get these birds off of me!" he yells while scrambling to catch his flying papers. the twins simply watch the scene with a bit of awe in their gaze. the snail trail of reports falling from the binders, the panicking merchant that were glad was finally out of their hair, and the mechanical crows all flying and pulling in uniform fashion. they giggled. "see? i told you our training on the birds worked," luke cheesed while nudging kieran, "they know our calls now, we're like crow papas to them." kieran stares at his twin for a moment and just very subtly shakes his head in disbelief. "you're weird." "you too, crow head."

"look at what you're also wearing on your head right now." "hey... no bickering! boss wants us to report back to him soon. let's get the crows to pick up and throw away the papers." kieran sighs in surrender and nods. it didn't take long for the mechanical bird army to come flying back from around the corner and into the common room the merchant waited in. with a few more embarassming squawks from the twins, the birds begin picking up the left-over, tattered piece of papers that had clearly gone through a lot from the journey to the n109 zone. "hey luke," kieran mumbles while tidying up the papers on the long, matte-coloured table nearby. "maybe we shouldn't throw these out? boss didn't get to see most of what that guy brought. it might be good if we bring it to him." luke stands straight and tilts his head. "why's that?" "well if these are legitimate death files from states that are suffering from vampirism, then it'd be good private intel for boss to examine. maybe it'd help him gain more... yknow... intimate insight on what's happening beyond the n109. not just bullshit TV news and all that hargon-jargon." "i mean..." luke murmurs while scratching the side of his mask. it wasn't like sylus to give time of day to outsider intel. he preferred getting it his own way, impractical or not. but death reports were a new one. "if he doesn't want them then he can just throw them out. no harm no foul?" kieran nods in agreement and turns back to the papers in hand. time to go find boss.

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"come in," sylus murmurs while not sparing the door of his office a glance. his eyes were trained on the case of guns that was sat up on his desk. he takes a long sip of his herbal tea while tracing his fingers over the cool metal that shaped each ridge of his babies. but his attention was quickly stolen away though, as the noise of ruffling of papers emerged through the door.

"hey boss," kieran greets first while holding the door open for his brother. they both had a handful of messy, floppy papers in their hands that almost threatened to slip out of their order again. sylus quirks a brow as the twins set down the papers causally beside his gun case and step back. "what is this?" he asks with a neutral yet slightly annoyed tone. he slowly closes the gun case and looks up at the twins with a boring expression. he looked exhausted, almost. "death reports from the merchant that came in earlier," luke chuckles nervously, "he dropped a few pages as he left, and we thought you might like to see them." sylus furrows his brows slightly but not out of annoyance. this wasn't like the twins, to bring him something from the negotiators that popped in and out of his estate. "why? didn't i tell you two to dismiss him? why do i need his papers?" "well you don't need the papers," kieran adds on, "but we've never received death reports from any state or empire up until now. it's like an inside look on the effects of vampirism going on. we know you're old boss, but you're not old enough to remember the first vampires, right?"

sylus crosses his arms and looks to the side briefly. "no," he simply answers. "how do you know these aren't faked in some way? or completely illegitimate? what if they're from some other empire that isn't that merchant's place of origin?" the twins look at each other and shrug. kieran speaks up first. “well we don’t. we know some of them are but the rest looked real when we went through them.”

luke follows up. “look boss, you don’t have to give it a second thought if you don’t want to. you look pretty tired anyway, have you been getting any sleep?”

kieran stands on his tippy toes to peer over sylus’s desk. a wave of gratitude washes over him as his eyes catch a glimpse of the familiar green liquid in sylus’s cup. “hey, you’re drinking the herbals we gave you. they’re good aren’t they? you’ve been needing something to calm you down, boss.”

sylus glances over to the steaming mug on the edge of his desk. with slight hesitation he picks it up and brings it to his lips for a small sip. the twins watch him quietly, almost in awe that sylus was actually enjoying something they suggested. the cup finds its way back onto the desk as sylus picks up the reports right next to them. he heedlessly flips through them, eyes scanning every few words on every other page but not fully registering any of the contents. with a sigh, he throws them back onto his desk and waves his hand.

"this is an afterthought to all the weapon modifications and security checks we're running right now. these fucking… vampires - they're making my job harder than it needs to be. and now i have people coming in and out the n109 zone like it's a game of hopscotch, begging for my mercy like im some sort of fucking saint." sylus squints his eyes and bares his teeth in frustration. the empire, the organization he built up from the ground wasn't charity - even in times of crisis.

all these people were cruel. a life so distant to him now still prominently held the ache of rejection in his chest. why does he have to help them? who helps sylus now?

sensing the frustration and indignation welling up in sylus, the twins quickly step forward and snatch the reports off the desk to put on a side table, away from sylus's immediate gaze. "boss, hey, hey, take a deep breath," luke coos, "you're so tense today, is everything alright? when was the last time you slept?"

kieran glances between his brother and sylus and frowns behind his mask. "it's been more than today, you've been at your wits' end for a long while now, boss. we can't remember the last time you… you weren't…" kieran trails off, feeling as if he were over-stepping in his words. he steps back as a subtle sign of submission, but sylus notices the sudden tension between his underlings. he sighs and thuds back onto his desk chair. his head was buried in the large palms of his hands as an exasperated groan left his lips.

"look… it's not something the two of you could understand unless you were in my position," sylus murmurs into his palms. he pulls away from his hands and lays back in his chair, arms tense on their respective rests. "don't go worrying about me when you both have your own responsibilities to adhere to. the n109 zone, onychinus, me, i wouldn't have lived this far if i wasn't okay enough. you two are naive to these feelings. you have your youth, each other, and aren't constantly endangered by your line of work. i make sure of that."

"and you have none of that?" luke mumbles rather somberly, his head tilted down to the floor.

"of course not," sylus replies, "you two have known me long enough to know that. now -, " sylus stands to full height from his chair and briefly looks at the twins before focusing elsewhere. the obvious dejection in their postures made him feel bad, but knowing it was because of him made him feel worse. yet for some reason, an apology, explanation, or anything of the sort couldn't come out of his mouth to reassure them." - i'll need you two to leave. i need some time to myself. have the guards initiate lockdown and get ready for bed. the estate should be quiet."

the twins don't bother picking up their heads and simply nod at sylus's words. luke leads out and kieran follows him through the office door. the tense air they were just suffocated in stalked them even through the corridors of the estate, far from where sylus was. as they pressed for an elevator to descend, kieran turns to luke and lets out a small noise to get his attention. "what do you think?" he asks rather neturally.

luke returns kieran's gaze and takes a moment. "i think boss is depressed."

not long after the twins left his isolated office, sylus returns to work inspecting the weapons on his desk. they were placed so gently in their matte-case after their polishing and refinement, which scratched an itch in sylus's perfectionist brain. these were new prototypes that underwent intensive scrutiny before landing in sylus's hands.

the only difference about these prototypes was that they weren't regular technological maintenances on older weaponry; but rather, modifications made on the best artillery within onychinus. this case of guns were only scrap pieces of what was currently in network within his bases. and this was what other nations were at the door begging him for. weapons made specifically to fend off vampires. alloyed in the coldest type of steel, onychinus' series of vampiric artillery was nothing short of effective as they were nothing short of perfection.

sylus slowly grazes the edges of his guns with his fingertips, reveling in the sleek feel of them before picking up the smaller of the three. he holds it up, points the gun at the end of the room and stills in his stance. the gun was snug in his palm and surged power through sylus's veins. it felt good, it felt more than good. he produced perfection again and that accomplishment was especially honorable when knowing that the rest of the world was in trying times while he, he was succeeding. a brief but telling smirk tugs at sylus's lips. he relaxes and puts the gun back in its mold in the case. while closing the top of the case, his eyes flit to the side to the scattered reports on his side table. he should really get rid of those, he thinks. they're a ridiculous eyesore, he thinks. something as inevitable as death shouldn't be used as a guilty-trip, he thinks. but his hands betray his thoughts as they reach out to the discarded pile. in a similar fashion to earlier, sylus skims through the papers with mild interest and moderate annoyance. he wasn't sure why he felt a boiling upset in him whenever he was reminded of the outside world, but his cryptic mental problems were of no use to figure out when he had real-world problems. the pile almost reached its end when sylus's attention was piqued by something ... familiar? he wasn't sure what exactly was familiar about this report. it wasn't the name, nor the date and place of birth. it wasn't the occupation nor address; nor was it the reason and specifications of death. it actually wasn't any personal details of this person, he noted, but rather something more tangible. their face. her face. sylus bores his eyes at the rectangular photo of the woman on the top left of the report. he isn't sure if he's ever seen her before, but no other face in the reports had warranted a reaction from him like this. his eyes scan over the full document once more before narrowing at the place of birth. philos. if there was one nation sylus hated with vigor it was philos. hate was a strong word for him. even to his mortal enemies he wouldn't say he hated them - more like pitied them for their passion of hating him. philos was the only exception from this moral code of hate, though, as the birthplace of sylus's hate was from philos itself.

he quelled his anger quickly and focused back on the woman’s face. what was it about her that provoked his interest and why did the fact she was from philos leave him unsettled? the questions floating around in his head were suddenly frustrating, causing sylus to grit his teeth and throw the paper back onto the desk.

as if he didn’t have enough stress and paperwork in his life. as if philos hadn’t meddled in his life enough.

he groans softly and firmly picks up his weapons case off of his desk. he strides to the middle of the room and held the case up, eyes scanning his surroundings for a familiar bird.

“mephisto,” sylus calls with a scratchy voice, “take the case back to base.”

a dark crow flies out from the corner and caws as it’s claws grip onto the heavy case with concerning strength. the mechanical bird flaps its wings and glances down at sylus, its beady red eyes tracing his figure.

mephisto, in a way, was the only thing that could be above sylus.

the bird flaps in place for a moment before flying toward the office door with its package. sylus watches mephisto with a twitching lip, a few more words pending in his head.

“and mephisto… tell base those guns fucking suck.”

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the atmosphere was quite mellow. sunday was the best day to visit the bar; all the nerduwells and wannabe vigilantes in the n109 zone had exhausted their energy for the week, leaving the streets and establishments somewhat peaceful.

somewhat.

the recent epidemic of vampirism in neighboring sovereignties caused a spike of anxiety even here. even if the n109 was one of the most established empires in modern day, humans were prone to worry about what-ifs.

what-if n109 defenses weren’t enough to stop an army of blood-thirsty vampires?

what-if the security checks done on visitors overlooked someone?

what if the demand for the n109 zone's involvement in the ongoing epidemic increased, resulting in them making enemies with former allies? what if, what if, what if? but sylus didn't have the energy to worry about the what ifs. he only worried about what is. what is happening in onychinus's bases? well that would be massive weapon modification and revamping. what is sylus's role in the ongoing vampiric invasion? his only role is acting as the head of onychinus and as a protector of the n109 zone. what is currently happening in the main estate sylus worked in? well that would be a reinstation of a better, more thorough built-in security system.

which is why sylus was stuck here in a nearby bar that he frequented. well, frequented is a strong word - he more so popped in and out from time to time and only racked up a tab when he really needed it. the bartenders knew him, of course, and upon seeing the laundry list of a tab he was currently racking up, they felt a little concerned. but sylus was in no mood to talk, drinking was his conversation right now.

one shot empty meant give me another. two shots empty meant give me another. three shots empty meant give me another. four-maybe this language sylus was speaking was limited... but the bartenders understood it well. sylus puts down another shot glass and groans. "give me another. balkan this time, no chasers." "the balkan isn't meant for straight consumption," the bartender informs rather straightforwardly, "we can offer you finger foods with it, on the house." sylus flits his intense gaze from his glass up to the bartender. the frown on his lips and the twitch of his eyebrows communicates more than the empty glasses this time around. the bartender turns to his female co-worker. "balkan, no chasers." the 57th shot is when sylus called it quits. a man of his stature, strength, and age could not be toppled over easily. dragons drank for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on occasion. he was just reliving those days, it seemed. sylus stands and rubs his eyes in exhaustion. he wasn't sure how long he'd been sat at the bar for but the crowd that was here when he first stepped in was now entirely replaced. his gaze was only slightly distorted, but it was enough to make him stumble here and there. he reaches into his shirt pocket and slides out his black card with his fingertips, but is met with refusal from the bartenders. "we have your card on file," the female bartender smiled. "would you like us to call your drivers to take you back to your estate, sir? your renovations are most likely done by now." sylus raises an eyebrow at her. fuck, he must've mumbled on about his current pathetic life affairs to these poor workers and had somehow given them his driver's numbers. but the usual slight sense of embarrassment that would creep up on him was sputtered out by intoxication. he nodded slowly at the girl and sat back down as she left to the back for what he assumed would be a weird call to his chauffeurs. he waited for a period of time completely unknown to him. was the alcohol really screwing with his head this much? 57 was lightweight to him most days, but these days as of late weren't like most days. sure, the vampire epidemic had been going on for a few decades now, but the true climax of the crisis was just now beginning. meaning the true number of headaches sylus got was also increasing. there was a direct correlation to him. he looks down at his hands and frowns. in a drowsy, hazed state, a clear and lucid thought parts all other muddled words. what have i become? his mind goes back to the nonsensical fog that was there prior. it was only until he heard the familiar voice of the female bartender telling him that his ride was outside that he finally focused. he stood, strode assuredly through the doors of the bar, and exited the establishment with none of the emotions he amassed inside left behind. after a short, silent car ride, his destination was reached. the security system of the estate was fully renovated once sylus stepped inside. new DNA sensors, identification scans, ID processors, infrared lights, and an abundance of other authentication protection devices were established. all of which sylus knew by heart. he was the one who had ordered these to be built, after all. this type of security was what he wanted in the near future for all the vulnerable spots within the n109 zone. vampires aren't going to thrive in his empire if he has anything to say about it. sylus only makes it a few steps into the estate before he's beckoned. "boss, boss!" luke and kieran chirp from around the hall. they almost topple over each other trying to get to sylus first. "boss, look at these new ID cards base gave us!" luke giggles, "we had to take a whole shoot for these but they got our best angles!" the twins hold up two ID cards each, one with their masks on and one with them off. it was almost endearing to think that only sylus knew what they really looked like.

"yeah! and because of them, our faces can be sensed without taking our masks off! these new scanners were really worth the money!" kieran adds on with an obvious smile lilting his voice.

but the excitement in the twins' voice quickly die down as they noticed sylus's hazed, apathetic stare toward them. they slowly lower the ID cards and avert their gaze from such a dreadful sight.

"boss?" luke murmurs, "you alright?"

sylus keeps quiet. his eyes were half-lidded and pink and his stance was uneven. he looked a little annoyed but was mostly uncaring of what the twins had to say. the tension that always followed sylus was back now, and at his silence, the twins back away and apologize profusely before vanishing around the corner.

"boss is drunk," kieran simply remarks, childish joy gone from his voice.

sylus turns back to the corridor and walks himself to where an elevator was awaiting his arrival. he steps in, clicks a floor button, and was swiftly taken up directly into his bedroom. his button-up came off first and then his belt alongside his pants. he then slips out of his boxers, shoes, and then socks, all before stepping into his grandiose bathroom for a shower.

while sylus's mouth was quiet this entire time, his head was anything but. a looming sense of forlorn simmered in his chest as his thoughts journeyed him through regret. being in this position with his much power was what he wanted from day one as a baby dragon. and with that dream ripped away from his former self, why did it feel so terrible now to pursue it?

maybe this outbreak incident of vampires was what was needed to remind him of how vulnerable he is. his trade-off for stable, consistent power was this dread that he was feeling now. he once flew through skies free as a bird, now the closest thing he had to free flight was mephisto. maybe that's why he likes crows. they take the flight he can no longer chase. the shower turns off 45 million thoughts later and sylus steps out just as dazed as he stepped in. those shots were something persistent. even his tolerance was withering away, it seemed. he groans softly as he grabs a towel and dries his limbs. every movement felt ache-y and sloppy, but his body was soon dry enough to slip into his robe. before continuing his routine, he takes one good, hard look at himself in the mirror. that was him, surely, but why? why did that have to be him? sylus, leader of onychinus and protector of the n109 zone, a sovereignty of power and advancement. those titles felt isolating, for some reason. but that wasn't anything new. isolation was nothing new.

before he could vomit at the dizziness caused by focusing his eyes too hard, he steps back from the mirror and rubs his head. slowly, sylus's body moves out of the bathroom and into the main part of the bedroom. he slugs toward his bed and sits on the edge before fully twisting his body on the mattress. he doesn't bother lugging the blankets on top of his body, in fact, his skin was scalding. even the robe felt uncomfortable tied around his body like this, but he thought against removing it.

a familiar sense frustration grew within him again. the mere thought of being uncomfortable in his own body was unsettling, it only served his insecurities about becoming vulnerable. he slowly picks up his hand and rubs the side of his face.

"what the hell is this feeling…" he mumbles to himself.

with a resigned sigh, he lets his hand fall back to his side. he closes his eyes and tilts his head back on his pillow. a mixture of exhaustion and pain simmers within his body as he submits to fatigue and let's sleep sweep away his foggy mind.

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the n109 was special in the fact that there was no morning. everyone had their own sleep schedules, but the entire empire was nocturnal, in a sense. sylus himself didn't need much sleep. unlike most humans that needed seven to eight hours per night, he only needed about three or four to fully function, but he could also go days without it. that's why when sylus woke up eleven hours after his night of drinking, he felt a little confused. he squints at the clock on his bedside table to fully ensure that he wasn't imaging the time. no, it had actually been eleven hours. damn, his tolerance was really degrading. he pushes himself off the bed and steps into his slippers. he simultaneously felt better and worse from the night before. his headache was gone for the most part, but the heat under his skin was still there. actually, his skin was so hot that it was a bit itchy. sylus scratches at his face for a few moments before deciding it was somehow the consequence of drinking so much. the alcohol boiling in his body was probably making his body temperature rise, causing this weird sensation. he walks to the bathroom, hoping a cold shower might help mediate this problem. in the back of his head, the myriads of labor waiting for him today laid. he had to run inspections on his new security system to ensure its upkeep, and once he was satisfied, he would go to base to discuss a more widespread implementation of it.

but despite being awake for all of four minutes, it was seeming like nothing was going to plan today. sylus steps into his bathroom and disrobes himself with one tug at his belt. he moves to the shower and turns on the water before staring at himself in the mirror. as he waited for the temperature of the water to drop to the coldest setting, his eyes traced his bare form in the mirror, top to bottom, over and over again. it was almost like he was judging himself. but something catches his eye on his third round of scrutiny. he steps closer to the mirror and leans into his reflection, eyeing down his skin with suspicion. he narrows his gaze on his neck and almost flinches back in shock as he spots something inconceivable. four scarred over circles on the side of his neck, a bit darker than his normal skin tone. a vampire bite. his hands quickly come up to grasp at the patch of skin. he runs his fingertips over the blemishes, but he feels nothing but smoothness there like normal. the bites were healed, but they weren't there the night before, he would know.

vampire bites didn't heal that quickly, but sylus's body was strong enough to recover in record time. in fact, most his scars disappeared after a day or so - but that only further supported the idea that these bites happened recently. most definitely in the eleven hours he abnormally slept. this realization makes sylus stumble back until his back presses against the bathroom wall. "is this some sort of joke? are the twins doing this?" he mutters to himself in disbelief. "how... there's no possible way a vampire could've gotten into the n109 zone, there's no possible way one got into my... my fucking house." a wave of fear washed over sylus. fear was an emotion long forgotten by his brain but in this moment, with the possibility that the security of the entire n109 zone was jeopardized, he felt true fear. quickly, he swipes his robe off of the floor and turns off the shower. he leaves the bathroom and scours his room with intensity, throwing various furniture and items around like a man gone mad.

where was the little piece of shit? how was he supposed to know at what point a vampire got into his estate - bypassing all his new security - and then feasted on him like he was free meat. the mere idea of his privacy and defense being knocked down so easily after everything... everything he's done, it was insanity. there was no vampire in his room, obviously. he figured that as soon as he flipped the bed upside down only to find his bedframe. but there was the entirety of the estate left. in fact, there was the twins left. the thought of the two suffering from their transformation shot panic through sylus, causing him to fly toward the elevator in his room and bang its button to beckon it. at least his body was strong enough to repel the actual mutation of vampirism, and even then, he was suffering obvious side effects. but the twins? they were just boys to him; they weren't anything close to being capable of handling that type of pain. sylus rides the elevator down a few floors to where the twins' room were and then bolts out at soon as the doors open. please, please, please. luke. kieran. bang. bang. bang. "luke, kieran! are... are you guys in there?!" bang. bang. bang. "luke! kier-" "boss, what the hell?!" sylus turns his head toward the end of the hall where luke and kieran were standing. they wouldn't lie, sylus was scaring them a little. a wave of relief washes over sylus as he sees their normal, healthy forms. albeit, they were flinching a little but they were normal. "you two..." sylus whispers, "you two are okay, right?" the twins glance at each other and then turn back to sylus. they nod. "y...yeah?" kieran stutters unsurely. "why? did something happen?" sylus tenses but shakes his head profusely. he lowers his arms off their adjacent bedroom doors and steps slowly toward them. "no, no, nothing happened. i just... had a bad dream about you two. i... wanted to make sure you guys were safe." the twins make another glance to each other. "really boss?" luke remarks, "you had a nightmare? that's never happened to you before. are you sure you're okay?" sylus almost wants to smile at luke's naivety, but he remembers the situation he is in. "that's what you're focusing on?" kieran chimes in, sounding rather happy. "boss is back to caring about us! yay! we don't have to worry about being orphan crows anymore!" luke shoves kieran's side with his elbow, reprimanding him for so openly talking about their fear of abandonment to sylus like this. "ow!" sylus watches the two for a moment, thanking the skies that they weren't harmed. but this revelation opened up a new basket of questions. why did this vampire only target him? were they only trying to take him out? before he could ponder on these questions for any longer, he once again reminds himself that it was only him who knew about this - as far as he was aware. at the very least luke and kieran didn't know, and he intended to keep it that way. "guys," sylus murmurs with tension creeping up in his voice. he tries to quell it, but he couldn't exactly ignore the fact that he had been bitten. so fucking stealthily too. "guys, i'm going to need you two to stay in your rooms for today. i... have to run security checks on the estate and i just need... i just need to go through everything alone. no distractions." "hey we won't dis-" "please," sylus pleads, "please just listen to me. your chores at base today are cancelled, stay in your rooms." the twins seemed genuinely shocked at sylus's uncharacteristic begs. for the first time in a while, the despondent aura that sylus held was gone, now replaced with something they couldn't name. they felt an urge to listen. "okay boss, we'll stay in our rooms," kieran murmurs. luke doesn't verbally respond but nods. they passed by sylus and both headed into their respective rooms, leaving sylus alone in the hall. with a deep breath, sylus looks to the elevator and smiles in anger.

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desperate was the understatement of the century. sylus was in absolute shambles. he checked every fucking camera outside of his estate and nothing came about. he checked every security verification, every sensor, every authentication that was implemented in his estate and still nothing. but his estate wasn't his only concern. he called base to inquiry about the border security checks and for a list of every single person who entered or exited the n109 zone within the last two days. every single name on there was investigated on thoroughly, and still nothing. he was running on fumes at this point. despite his long, restful slumber, restful was the last thing sylus felt. the horror that ensued upon seeing his bites and then the fury that followed it were draining to his already exhausted body. but he could get no peace until he figured out what the actual hell was going on. the good news was, there didn't seem to be any reports of vampire bites within the n109 zone, as well as no reported cases of vampire sightings. that meant whoever was doing this wasn't attacking other people.

maybe not yet, but sylus would rip their limbs apart tortuously before they even got the chance.

this also meant this vampire was probably the only vampire within the n109 zone. statistically speaking, if there were a group of vampires that had infiltrated the empire, someone or some security check would've at least raised one warning flag and sent off a tip-off to base. but there were no such reports at base. in the same way the twins being safe drove sylus equally mad as he was relieved, these new findings did the same. "so you're telling me..." sylus chuckles incredulously under his breath while flitting his gaze between the various screens in front of him, "that little bitch snuck into my land, my territory, and into... ha... my bedroom... to bite me and only me. eager way to assert your dominance... going straight for the top dog." sylus was talking to himself as he had been the last several hours of investigating. he was equal parts fearful, frustrated, impressed, and an innumerable of other feelings. how was he supposed to catch what was seemingly a new breed of ghost vampire? and how was he supposed to feel secure in his position - in his home - knowing that a vampire had snuck into the n109 zone and infiltrated his estate, all while bypassing security. the disbelief of a smile on his face morphed into a grit of anger. sylus stands up from his chair, almost knocking it over with force, and clenches his fists. the security room in his estate was dark and was only illuminated by the white and blue lights that came off of the camera screens. this new room was a part of the mansion upgrade, and yet all of its capabilities served fruitless. "fuck, i can't do anything. i can't... do anything. how can't i do anything?!" sylus's voice was getting progressively louder and more frustrated with every realization. arguably the most powerful man on this side of the world couldn't do anything. he begins to pace. "i can't let anyone know," he murmurs to himself, "fuck, if anyone finds out then my entire empire comes down. if it was found out that a vampire infiltrated the n109 zone and my estate under my watch, it'll be absolute mayhem. i can't. fuck, what am i supposed to do?" the fumes must've been working overtime in sylus's brain, because an idea that makes him halt pops up. "base." he rushes to the intercom by the computerized table in the security room and makes an urgent call to the base of onychinus. he waits for a few seconds anxiously but soon hears a familiar voice. "yes, sir?" one of the heads officers of base answer, recognizing sylus's call. "all the vampiric prototypes you have, and i mean every single weapon, send them over to my main estate. i'm giving you all 2 hours maximum to send them or else i'm coming down there myself and ripping all your contracts in front of your faces. then i’m kicking you to the curb."

“but sir, i thought you said you weren’t satisfi—“

“send. them.”

the resolution in sylus’s voice was something not to be trifled with. the voice on the other end keeps quiet for a moment but then responds the next.

“they will be there in the hour, sir.”

the officer was wrong. they were delivered in the half hour.

the sheer amount of prototypes that were hauled down to sylus’s security room was impressive. sylus watched every single second of the process until every shipment that base brought with them was stashed in the room. they were organized by weapon and then by size, having all the small handguns in one corner and then all BMG sniper rifles in another corner. the room was an eyesore of metal cases, but each case housed a weapon that could potentially kill that vermin of a vampire with efficiency and ease. the sight brought premature retribution to sylus's soul. god forbid he comes face to face with the poor creature. he'll commend them for being so stealthily and intelligent but then kill them in the next breath he'd take. killing so intimately was not sylus's forte, but that's what he felt reduced to at this point.

after base made their final rounds of delivery, sylus was left alone in the security room with his new weapons of vengeance. he steps forward toward one of the cases in the silver section of the weaponry. silver was said to be a vampire's weakness, but also hard to source. carefully, he opens one of cases housing a silver assault rifle and admires the shine on the barrel. it came with silver high-caliber bullet tips and a silencer. in one go, he found his main weapon. sylus smiles to himself and stands with the case, leaving the rest of the cases in the security room for now. he would put those to use at some point, but overloading himself with weapons around the estate would only cause him more trouble. he needed one good gun. he now has one good gun. despite mumbling to himself for the past few hours and feeling like he was slowly going insane, sylus was now quiet in the ride up to his office. his vulnerability was now masked by his armory of weapons, and he would put all of them to use if needed. walking into the room, sylus places the case down on his desk and looks around suspiciously. being paranoid was new too, wasn't it? slowly, he strides around and pulls one of the cabinet drawers to take out a small handheld mirror. he's refused to look at himself since he first found the bite. he raises the mirror and angles it toward his neck, right over the area where the bite was. the scar was almost completely gone now but the discoloration was just faintly there. he could almost visualize the arch of the vampire's teeth sinking into his skin and making him bleed a dinner out for them. it makes him shudder and groan in frustration. quickly, he places the mirror down and swallows. as much as she wanted to get to the bottom of this now, he needed to wait. there was no finding an untraceable vampire. he sighs and slowly lowers himself onto his desk chair. the heat and dizziness that plagued him that morning was practically non-existent now. other than his frustration, sylus felt no different physically. it brought him some sense of reassurance to know he couldn't easily be transformed, but not everyone was like him. in fact, luke and kieran were still practically hidden away in their rooms because of that very fact. "mm, god im exhausted," sylus rumbled with a hand rub to his temples. when his eyes adjust open again they catch a glimpse of something on his desk. he furrows his brows and reaches out for the stray paper, bringing it up to his face. it's that woman again. the one from philos. the one dead. he frowns. "you're torturing me too, yknow?" he chuckles hollowly, "why can't i seem to... know you? you should know your people were horrible pieces of shit. were you a horrible piece of shit like them? you probably were, everyone there was. everyone but..." he trails off, a distant memory in his head failing to reach him. "i don't know actually. hopefully you weren't as miserable as the people of philos. you're too..." he trails off again and stares at the woman's picture. "too kind-looking."

sylus continues to stare at the report for a few more moments before realizing he was talking to himself again-or rather, to a piece of paper. a death certificate. he places the paper down and tilts his head back, softly laughing at himself. "i've gone fucking crazy."

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over a week had passed since the initial incident. every "morning" to "night", sylus spent his time obsessively watching the cameras in his home and scouring the area with his rifle. the twins were quarantined in their rooms for hours on end at a time, and neither of them got a straight answer as to why. right now, sleep was not an option. losing his empire was more important than losing sleep, and this one son-of-a-bitch was threatening the safety of his entire sovereignty. sylus's days dragged on endlessly with routine checks and guarding keeping his body awake at every hour. as much as he hated to admit it, the lack of sleep was genuinely getting to his already muddled brain, making it harder to think properly and function. his human body had limitations his former self didn't, it seemed. his movements were fussy and staggered. he thought it had been days but what if it had been weeks since the bite? was he really worried about something that happened so long ago? he could no longer be sure. but the safety of his empire, of luke and kieran, of his life was not a joke. sylus makes his 73rd round down the same hall that his office was in. the mess inside was cleaned sometime during his manic state, but he couldn't properly remember. his legs grew tired and ache-y from all of his patrolling. it felt like he was being tortured but all of this was his decision to do. slightly defeated, even more-so exhausted, sylus slid down the wall of the hallway and held his silver rifle tightly in his hands. he could still patrol with his eyes of course, just right here. his eyes moved back and forth from one end of the hall to the other, slowly, attentively, drowsily. he kept his sharp ears open for any noises but all he heard was the ambience of his estate. he had worn himself out to the bone. sylus was more susceptible than he thought. his eyes closed.

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"boss! boss! boss wake up! boss!"

sylus's eyes shoot open to see luke and kieran standing over him. their gloved hands were firm on his shoulders and arms as the two shook him with vigor. "boss! there's someone in the estate! boss!" a surge of panic and adrenaline pump into sylus's veins. he quickly stands to his feet and tightens his grip on the gun. "where?! where?! tell me, where are they?!" "we caught them!" kieran yells. "they were in the security room, but we brought them to your office and caught them!" luke adds on. sylus's eyes widen. he figured the twins brought whoever the hell this was to his office because it was the most heavily secured placed in the estate, so the idea of this perpetrator being just a few doors down made sylus triumph. he would thank the twins later. "stay right here. don't even think about moving an inch." this newfound sense of both relief and excitement empowered sylus and every footstep he took toward his office door. slowly, carefully, he unlocks the door with his facial and finger scans before ensuring the twins were still in their same position and then clicking it open. the gun was held up, ready to fire at any given moment once he saw the source of his torture behind his door. the door opens fully and then closes behind him. his eyes scour the area before landing on the anomaly in the room.

a person.

a girl. you. tied up and blinfolded in the corner of the room, unmoving but breathing. he grins and inches closer to you until a mere few feet away. "thought you could play around with me?" he gruffs. "you don't know what you've gotten yourself into. who are you?" you don't answer. he notices your breathing is slow and a bit labored, which was strange given your circumstances. what was stranger was the complexion on you wasn't gaunt or grey-out like a vampire at all, but you still weren’t supposed to be here. sylus narrows his eyes at you and grits his teeth. if you weren't going to answer he would get the answers himself. he leans down to you and pulls the blindfold around your head off with an aggressive yank. the moment it's gone you look up at him, eyes half lidded and drained of energy. soulless. empty. sylus knew that type of look in someone's eye. the look before death. "who are you and how did you manage to bypass my security?" sylus repeats, tone just slightly softer. "answer me or i'll torture it out of you." he watches you open your mouth only for no noise to come out. you were obviously struggling, but with what? sylus didn't know. sensing there was no immediate threat, sylus lowers his gun and knits his brows together in confusion and agitation. "what is it?" he asks.

no answer. "are you playing some type of game? you bypass my security, sneak into my estate, and what? now you're dying? fucking joke right?" you open your mouth again but no noise. this time around, sylus spots it. your teeth, sharp canines on both the top and bottom rows. vampire. a low chuckle escapes him. this was near unbelievable. "vampire. you're the goddamn vampire who bit me and somehow got away with it for all this time. i should thank you, though, you taught me im not as weak as i thought i was and that you're not as strong as i thought you were." you twitch slightly and cough. "b...blood... p...please..." you sputter out in an extremely hoarse voice.

sylus was almost taken aback by your words. you were asking for blood. from who? from him? he didn't believe you had the audacity, but it seems like you did. "blood? blood?" he laughs heartily and clutches his chest. "what makes you think i want to feed you and keep you alive? do you hear yourself?” the surprises just kept coming as tears fell from your face. your clenched expression and obvious pain were a sight to behold, a sight that sylus couldn't exactly bring himself to enjoy. he didn't like seeing torture, if he killed, he did so instantaneously to avoid torturing anyone. but you looked like you suffered just as much as sylus had. he frowns in disgust at his empathy but it was all quickly replaced by keen interest. he squints his eyes at you and feels an unsettling sense of familiarity crowd his chest. where... where did he know his feeling from? sylus quickly stands and rushes over to his desk to grab the rogue piece of paper that never left from there. he brings it back to your form and holds it up to compare the faces. it was uncanny, unreal, unbelievable.

you were the woman in the death reports? nothing made sense anymore. maybe this was the final stage of insanity. but before sylus could even register another thought he hears your voice again, this time more broken and desperate. "blood... p..please blood... please." he stilled. what was he supposed to do? at this point he knew he couldn't let you die, not with all this mystery around you, but what he supposed to do?

you cry out again, using all of your left energy to plead. "pl..please... blood... please! p..please!" he slowly puts down the paper and stares at you. despite knowing this was you in the death report, he still couldn't shake off the feeling he knew you from somewhere. he could almost feel you. deep inside his chest somewhere he felt your presence there.

you weren't some ordinary "person" that was for sure.

he almost thought against it, but his body moved before his brain could catch up. slowly, he crouches down and inches toward you up until your face was hovering over his shoulder. he cups your head from behind and pushes you further into his form. "shh, drink."

a/n: thanks if u made it this so far, lol. chapter 2 soon!

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